I let myself be led away. I grab a bottle of Blue Moon from the cooler. I drop into the seat next to his and chug it.
“Slow down.” Tyson pulls the drink out of my hand.
“I’m so sick of everyone saying that. I’m fine. Worry about your damn self,” I snap, then reach over and grab his glass and down the caramel colored liquid in one gulp. I wince as the liquor burns a trail down my throat.
“This isn’t like you,” he says.
“You don’t even know what that means,” I inform him.
He looks at me sideways. “Wha—?”
Stone and his little perfect perky young pretty are out of the hot tub and head our way.
“I need to pee,” I announce. “My bladder isn't what it was before three kids.” I use the arm of the chair to lever myself to standing, but sway as I do.
“Let me help you,” Tyson says.
“No,” I whisper angrily. But it’s too late.
“She’s really drunk,” Celine pretends to whisper, as she drops into a chair around the small table I’m sharing with Tyson.
“Aren’t you going to call her Captain Obvious, too? Or is that just for the girls you fuck?” I ask. I giggle, but no one else does.
“What did you just say?” Tyson asks.
“Oh, grow up, Tyson,” I snap at him, and then spin on my heel with a loud burp.
Halfway across the yard, I kick my shoes off, so I can walk faster.
I get to the bathroom and shut the door behind me and suck in deep breaths. I slide down the door and drop my head on my knees.
When my heart isn’t tap dancing on my sternum anymore, I open my eyes and use the counter for support to get up. I reach to turn on the taps, and, for a second, I don’t recognize my own hands.
In the months since I started rebuilding the shattered foundation of my life, nothing has changed more than they have.
They tell the story of the new me in a language that’s universal, but in a pattern that only I understand. They’ve become my visual anchor to the present.
The three diamond eternity rings stacked on to my right forefinger remind me that I gave birth to three little lives that will always be mine to cherish.
The tattoos that run on either side of my left middle finger read “Weh nuh ded, nuh dash weh” in my mother’s Jamaican patois, reminding me that as long as I’m breathing, there is hope.
On the inside of the bare ring finger of my left hand, my name is tattooed. And that reminds me that now, I belong only to myself. That my second chance is only one heartbeat away. I just have to not give up.
Now, if only I could find a way to murder that woman Stone brought here tonight and get away with it.
I ignore the stab of pain, the sense of betrayal, the melody that hurt plucks out on my heartstrings with the reckless abandon of fingers dancing across a guitar’s bridge.
I told him to move on.
So, why does it make me breathless with pain to find that he has?
I know that this is for the best. It’s just that… Stone Rivers stripped every shred of protection I put around my most tender places. And, my stupid heart hasn’t learned any of the lessons I’ve tried to teach it. It wants what it wants and when it comes to Stone, it has the allegiance of my body, too.
Feeling fortified and strong again, I head back out. I’m not going to sit there and watch Stone with another woman all night. I don’t need this shit. Stone can have his stupid little girlfriend.
With my equilibrium back in place, I walk back out to the backyard.
Memory Lane
Stone
Hayes and Confidence left a few minutes ago to relieve their babysitter, and he whispered, “You’re so fucked,” when he hugged me goodbye.
He was right.
Regan’s expression as she walks out of the house is a little terrifying. She’s grinning, but it’s more like a predator baring their teeth than a smile. Her dark brows are drawn low over eyes that look like they’re ready to shoot lightning.
I’ve always known she’s possessive and even though I feel a trickle of unease at the way she’s watching Celine, it’s nice to know that she’s jealous.
Because I am, too.
Of her brothers, of her friend Dina—even her clothes have earned my envy tonight. They all get to touch her, talk to her, tease her. And I have to