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PROLOGUE
“What are you saying, Lil?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion as he presented the question.
“I’m saying…I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore. I’m ready to move on,” I repeated softly.
He stared at me, eyebrows in a jumble, mouth hung open. “Can you…baby, I don’t understand. You just wanna throw what we have away after twelve years? Why?”
I shifted my gaze from where he sat across the dinner table from me, letting my eyes tour the gorgeous dining room I’d thoroughly enjoyed decorating. This house—his house—had been my home since nearly the beginning of our relationship. I’d miss it.
I’d miss it a lot.
“Marlon, please don’t act like we haven’t already discussed this. Don’t pretend you’re blindsided.”
He rolled his eyes, reclining in his chair while loosening his necktie. “Oh, I see. It’s the marriage thing again. This is your way of forcing me to marry you, huh?” The statement was punctuated with a smirk.
“No, I’m not trying to make you do anything. I’m simply informing you that I’m leaving.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this shit. You’re trying to blackmail me! Lil, this is beneath you!”
“No, I’m not trying to black?—”
“You know my situation! You know why things are the way they are! I love you, but I can’t marry you!”
“I love you, too. And you’re right. I do know your situation. I understand the position you’re in. I always have. I’ve just decided I no longer want this for myself. I can’t do it anymore.”
“So, you just gon’ leave? Really, Lil? You’re leaving me?”
“Yes. I’m-I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry?! You walk out on me after twelve fucking years and you’re sorry? Fuck you, Lil!”
The volume of his voice made me flinch. I don’t think I’d ever heard him yell in all the time we were together, especially not at me. Now, that hurt. “What do you want me to say? Sorry is all I have, and I mean it. I’m so sorry. It’s not that I want to leave. It’s that I have to.”
“Nah, that’s a lie. If you wanted to stay, you’d stay. It’s black and white. There’s no gray to it.”
“For you, maybe, but for me, there’s hella gray along with a whole ton of mixed feelings and guilt. I love you, I really do, but I gotta go.”
“Then go! Fucking go!” he shouted.
With tears in my eyes, I stood from the table, moving around it to stand next to the man I’d shared a bed and life with for more than a decade. I dug a set of keys from the hip pocket of my jeans, placing them on the table next to his abandoned fork. Then, with a leaden heart, I took a deep breath and headed to the room I’d used as an office, retrieving my luggage and purse before leaving behind all the furniture and décor I’d bought and the memories I’d made in this house and with this man.
1
“Ijust want to say I’m proud of you. I’ve been waiting for this day to come since you first introduced us to his tiny hand ass,” my sister, Memphis, said between bites of pasta.
“Mm-hmm, same. I never liked Marlon,” my sister, Umber, agreed before gulping down some water. “You really dated down with him. Like, way down.”
“How did I date down?” I asked Umber. “He’s an accountant with good credit.”
“And tiny hands. Don’t forget the tiny hands,” Memphis reminded me.
“And he’s sort of built like a bad bitch,” Umber pointed out.
“Well, I thought the boy was a little off with the way he would sit around the house in a suit and tie,” our father interjected. “I know he’s supposed to be a professional, but shit! Who watches football while dressed like a funeral director?”
“That nigga,” Memphis cut in.
I had to smile at this little impromptu roasting session. Marlon wasn’t an Adonis, but he was kind to me, and his love was calm, steady, and safe. With him, I knew what I was getting—no games, no pretenses, just honesty and mutual trust. So, I said, “I know y’all hate him. I love him, though. We were good together for the most part. Things just…I don’t know. They never felt quite right.”
