Page 14 of The Birthday Girl
The soles of Tyriq's sneakers slapped against the wet pavement, each stride pulling him farther from the condo tower he called home. The morning air was crisp, but sweat still slicked his temples. He checked his phone mid-stride. Twenty missed calls from Danielle. Fifty from Shanice. He cursed under his breath and shoved the phone back into his pocket, quickening his pace as if he could outrun the memories of the night before.
His hand drifted up, brushing the scar that cut from the crown of his skull to the center of his forehead. Fifty stitches. That was his penance. The cops had called it a mugging after he fed them the lie, but he knew better. It was the price he had to pay for all he’d put Tahlia through in less than thirty days.
He lengthened his stride, lungs pulling in sharp breaths of chilly air, but nothing removed the pressure in his chest. Shanice’s name glared in red across his call log, and he wishedshe would go away. What she did to Tahlia on her birthday was unacceptable. She didn’t deserve that.
As punishment, Tyriq hadn’t spoken to Shanice since the night she crossed the line.
They had shared two years of secrets, and she blew it all up with one swipe of her finger. Tyriq knew why. She wanted him to tell Tahlia about their son. She had been pressing him for months.
Tell her. Tell her. Tell her.
She’d demanded many times, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. He loved Tahlia, and he couldn’t bear to watch her face splinter when she realized the man she’d built a life with had been living another one behind her back.
His shoes struck the pavement harder, the sound echoing his frustration. He told himself Shanice hadn’t meant to ruin him, but what kind of mother gambled with her own child’s peace for revenge?
Only a trifling one.
Shanice had proven just how dirty and selfish she was. Tyriq knew he should’ve walked away from her years ago.
But Danielle… that was different. That was on him.
His jaw tightened at the thought of her. He could still see the day she walked into his office, a tight-fitting bondage dress clinging to her frame with no bra straps on her shoulders, and no panty lines beneath the fabric. She had booked the appointment under the pretense of needing counsel, but the truth revealed itself the moment the door shut behind her.
Without hesitation, she stripped down to nothing, straddled his lap, and kissed him with so much passion that the little common sense he had vanished in an instant. What began as harmless flirting at family gatherings and too many drinks had morphed into something he couldn’t undo.
Tyriq knew better. That mistake, he couldn’t explain away. Danielle was Tahlia’s sister before she was anything else, and he had known it even as he gave in. And now, after the baby, she acted as if she was entitled to everything her sister had built, as if she deserved it.
Tyriq would never have set foot in that baby shower if Danielle hadn’t forced his hand. She had him by the throat with the proof she’d been sitting on, and she knew exactly how to squeeze him. He couldn’t risk Tahlia finding out the truth, not when Danielle held enough dirt to destroy their entire relationship.
So, when she told him he’d better be there, he didn’t argue and walked into the shower carrying more than just his obligation. Danielle had made it clear that her silence had a price, and it stretched well beyond diapers and onesies. Expensive handbags, jewelry, and whatever else she could dream up had found their way into her demands.
Tyriq brought gifts for the baby to keep the peace and gifts for Danielle because he had no choice. Each box and bag he set down in front of her felt like another chain tightening around his neck. He hated her smug smile, hated the way she looked at him like she owned him, but until he found a way to flip the game, Danielle’s blackmail kept him exactly where she wanted, obediently trapped.
What he hadn’t accounted for was Tahlia showing up. Danielle hadn’t mentioned her sister would be there, and it didn’t make sense that they’d asked Tahlia for anything when he’d already provided more than enough for the baby. Between the money he’d funneled and the extras Danielle demanded for herself, there was nothing left that child needed.
Rage burned under his calm expression. His breath sawed in and out, but his mind kept circling the same truth: his dick made him stupid.
Tyriq never meant to hurt Tahlia. Not like he had. Despite her awkwardness, she was the only woman he loved. Always had.
Tyriq remembered the first time he laid eyes on Tahlia. She wasn’t the kind of woman who invited conversation. While her friends laughed loud and filled the room, she sat with her arms folded, her expression icy. Her beauty was obvious, but it came wrapped in silence, and a stare so cold it gave him chills.
When their eyes met, he thought he caught interest, but later he realized it had only been the edge of her indifference. Talking to her felt like dragging words out of stone. Every answer was clipped and every glance measured, as if she was cataloging his every move.
It was awkward, almost uncomfortable, and Tyriq couldn’t get enough of it. Most women leaned in when he turned on the charm. Tahlia leaned back, unimpressed, and the distance made him want to close it. Cracking her shell became less of a challenge and more of an obsession.
His friends told him to leave her alone. They said she looked crazy, that nothing good could come from chasing after a woman with eyes like hers. Eyes that promised to do more damage than devotion. Tyriq heard them, but he didn’t care.
He loved that she looked untouchable, loved that being with her felt like handling fire with bare hands. She was cold, dangerous, impossible—everything about her made him want her more.
Up ahead, the street narrowed, and the park’s iron gates lay wide open. Tyriq slowed, sweat rolling down his temple as he glanced over his shoulder. The street behind him was empty, unsettlingly so. The stretch was usually alive with joggers and dog walkers at that hour, but that day, it was just him and the echo of his breath. Even the birds had gone quiet.
Tyriq rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the creeping sensation of being watched. He cut left onto the path that dippedbeneath a cluster of ancient oaks, their branches netted with mist as thick as smoke.
Twenty yards ahead, a black SUV rolled up and stopped, idling at the curb beyond the gates, its exhaust pipe coughing white smoke into the morning haze. Tyriq’s lawyer brain cataloged the make, model, and tint percentage, noting the windows were darker than state law allowed.
Choosing not to psyche himself out more than he already had, he was about to turn up his music to drown out the anxiety when a text pinged through from a sender labeled:TAHLIA.
Come home. Now.
