Page 38 of Out of Bounds
Everything seemed to be working out for the best, right? Wrong! That stubborn-ass man was refusing to sign the divorce papers. The copy that I left at his house had somehow disappeared. He claimed one of the kids had done something with it. His ass was lying. He was stalling after hepromisedthat he wouldn’t. My lawyer kept insisting that I run an ad in the paper to light a fire under his ass, but that was embarrassing as hell. Instead, I decided to try for a different approach. This morning, while on my commute to work, I reached out to him. I told him I would like for the two of us to sit down for dinner and discuss a few things.
I mean, that wasn’t a complete lie. Aurora’s birthday was coming up, and we still had a party to plan. When he set a time and a restaurant, I knew I had him right where I wanted him.The plan was to get all dolled up and have his ass drooling before slapping the signed papers down on the table. Us reconciling or any thoughts of it was a thing of the past, so for somebody whosworethat they understood the relationship was over, he was dodging those papers with all of his might.
Pulling my Porsche into the roundabout of the restaurant, I grabbed my bag off the seat and exited the vehicle. “Welcome to Louisiana Bistreaux,” the valet greeted.
After handing him over my keys, I sauntered into the restaurant in search of my “alleged” husband. And I say alleged because in my head, the two of us were already divorced. I was simply waiting for his signature that he was refusing to sign.
Spotting him in the center of the room with a table full of fresh pink roses had my eyes rolling to the ceiling. I hate to ruin his night, but I wasn’t here for that. Strutting over to the table, I ran my finger across the edge before taking a seat.
“Damn, Masai.” He breathed whimsically. “You look breathtaking. I love that new hairstyle.”
Now you like my hair. Boy please.
“I know I do.” I smirked and glanced down at my outfit. The restaurant that we’d met up at was casual dining, so instead of going all out for the night, I’d thrown on a pair on camouflage cargo pants, a denim button-down that I’d rolled up into a crop top, and a pair of burgundy YSL heels. Kreed preferred me with long hair, so as afuck youto him, I’d gotten my hair cut into a bob with the back feathered.
“You don’t look too bad yourself. Looks like you could use a retwist.” I jabbed, making Kreed jut his chin forward and laugh.
I was lying. The man looked good, but when didn’t he? He had on a tan and brown Amiri jogging suit, the iced-out pendant with our initials on it rested right under the collar of his shirt. He looked damn good and smelled even better. But I wouldn’tdare tell his ass that. He lost the privilege of me hyping his ass up when he gave something that belonged to me to another bitch.
Sitting back in the chair, Kreed stared at me. I couldn’t lie if I wanted to. His intense gaze would always do something to me. This was my soul mate, my lifeline—essentially, he’d been my peace for years. His presence alone would probably rattle me for the rest of my life. That was the type of effect he had on me.
“You must miss me or something? You invited me to dinner. The last time we talked, you was telling me how I wasn’t shit and you would never speak to me again.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” I chided.
In my defense, he had the kids and I was home alone. My thoughts got the best of me, and before I knew it, I was on his phone in the middle of the night, calling him everything under the sun. Well, moon. He took it, though. He sat on the other end of the phone and let me get everything off my chest without so much as a peep. I must’ve talked until I tired myself out because next thing I know, I’m waking up with the call still active and his light snores in the background.
“Masai Dolla, I’ve had you for years. You’ve beenminesince day one. Don’t you think I can spot a lie?”
“I don’t miss you, Kreed,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing.
He didn’t lie. I had been his for years. Fucked up thing was I’d give any and everything to gobackto being his. I did miss, Kreed; missed him immensely, but I can miss him and be separate from him.
“Yeah, aight…” He chortled. The server coming for our drink order put a temporary halt to our conversation. When she walked off, Kreed rested his elbows on the table. “What’s on your agenda tonight? You gone give me a few hours of your time or is this strictly business?”
“Depends on how much business you’re willing to discuss…” I tossed out casually.
“Fuck you mean by that?”
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I folded my arms across my chest. “Why are you stalling with the divorce, Kreed?”
“Why you tryna leave me, Masai?”
“You know why!” I hissed. “You fuck?—”
“Whiskey neat and a strawberry Hennessey margarita,” the server announced as she lowered the drinks on the table.
“Before you walk off, we can go ahead and order.” Kreed rattled our usual dishes off to the server, and no lie, I hated that this man knew me the way he did. He’d gotten my order down to the science, so much so that I just rolled my eyes.
“I could’ve ordered for myself.”
“Why would I ever let you do such a thing?”
“Are you baiting me, Mr. Dolla?”
“Nawl… not at all. I’m sharing a meal with mywife. Is that a problem?”
“Yes, Kreed it is.” I huffed. “You said you wouldn’t fight me.”
