Page 100 of Misconception (Unrequited 2)

“We don’t have to do it tomorrow. You can tell your parents first. But I think he’s right about this.”

She turned away, her eyes darting down to the records in the jukebox. “But Mo, I haven’t—”

“Haven’t what?”

She drew in a deep breath. “If we make a big announcement, then it becomes real and I—”

My hand slammed down on the glass of the jukebox. I was surprised it didn’t shatter from the force of my frustration. “Thisisreal. Goddamn, Michaela, what do I have to do?What?”

She blinked up at me. If I expected tears in her eyes, I would have been mistaken. I knew her heart wasn’t always surrounded by an impenetrable wall, but more often than not, around me, it was.

“What I feel for you is real, Mo. Me living here is real. Our child we made is real. But our marriage? Neither of us even wear rings. We’ve told very few people. I can’t even remember most of our wedding. To make a big announcement when I’m only coming around to the idea of being your wife…it doesn’t feel right. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you or I don’t adore you completely. Ido. But I have been married to a famous man before and—”

With a huff of disgust, I walked away, throwing my hands up in defeat. “I’m getting sick of being punished for shit Devon Chambers did. I am not him.”

“I’m not chasing you, Moses. You need to stay here and talk to me.”

When I turned around, she rested her hands on her belly and leaned her hip on the jukebox. “Did you hear anything else I said besides the last sentence?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I shoved both hands through my hair. “Yeah, I did. I adore you too, Mic. That’s why this is so frustrating.”

She approached me slowly, laying her palms on my crossed arms. “I’m here because I want to be with you. Just give me a little time to come around to the idea of our relationship becoming public. I know you hate being compared to Devon, and that’s not what I’m doing. If you were anything like him, I would have burned rubber getting away from you. I just want what we have, what we’re building, to be private for a while longer. To make sure, when we use that word—married—it means what it should.”

“What should it mean?”

She slid her palms up my chest. “It should mean forever—not a whim we had one night.” And ripped my heart out. We were a whim to her. To me, we were a decision I’d made consciously, and would never regret, no matter how much it hurt.

And it fucking stung like nothing else ever had.

“All right. I’ll give you time.”

What else could I do? Walking away would never be an option.

She rested her head where her hands had been, her arms looping around my waist. “Just a little time, Mo. Let’s enjoy how good this is right now, okay? I think we can hide our relationship for a while longer anyway.”

I held her and danced with her to another Nina Simone song, wondering, once again, how I’d gotten here. I was a fucking rock star. Women threw themselves at me. But the only one I wanted refused to fall.

She kissed my chest, and murmured, “I really do adore you, Moses.”

My arms tightened around her, and I inhaled her candied almond scent. As maddening as Michaela was, I really did adore her too. And that was exactly how I’d gotten here.

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