Page 93 of Serenity

After leaving Duke’s place, I returned to my condo, which felt less like home and more like a storage space for the museum of artwork and miscellaneous souvenirs he and I had collected during our travel abroad. It felt like the earth had swallowed the sun, leaving me behind in a land of nothingness. Obscurity. Darkness. It shrouded my world and turned what was once vivid and vibrant into a monotonous mix of black and white with few gray areas.

There was no escaping him. His presence dwelled in my home, in the apparitions at the spa, in my favorite restaurants. We weren’t broken up. I never said those words. I just–fuck. A host of shit had since risen from that evening together after the run-in with Julie—Mya. Whatever.

That bitch seemed far too delighted to have ruffled my feathers. “Give me a few seconds of your time. I’ll tell you all about it.”

What the fuck did she mean? What needed telling? Confusion and frustration did a cha-cha slide in my mind.

Myaquanna.

What the hell was he thinking marrying her?

Annoyance aside, giving myself space away from the situation granted me the necessary time to truly feel all my feelings. Feel and release. No compartmentalization. Duke could use a lesson or two in somatic therapy to aid in his bottled feelings as well.

I was livid. Not because we’d run into his ex-wife. Not because of what she said. But because his old drama was creeping into my world. Our world. The world we’d created for ourselves full of passport visas and new adventures. We deserved a chance at romance, absent the theatrics. Duke needed to handle that shit.

There was so much I didn’t know.

“Knowing a person’s romantic history can be enlightening. Especially in a new relationship.”

Robyn was right. I needed a thorough review of Duke’s past to ensure it didn’t interfere with our present.

I didn’t know when the hell I’d see him, but whenever that time came, new boundaries would be erected, and changes would be made. Wherever we’d go from here, Myaquanna’s ass couldn’t come.

One week later.

Pacing the living room of Sadie and Supreme’s home, my fingers raked through the messy bun atop my head. With most of my friends unhappy and single, I sought the advice of my happily married sisters-in-love. Taking relationship advice from a single person with little relationship experience never settled with my spirit.

After the whole Juliette or Mya thing at Duke’s place, putting space between us seemed the best course of action. And while I’d granted myself ample time to feel and release, I hadn’t come any closer to a resolution about how to move forward.

Involuntarily, I missed him. We’d grown accustomed to each other’s presence. More often than not, I was at his penthouse than my own home. Being at my condo now left me with mismatched feelings, as if I didn’t belong in my own home. The sting of his absence had been unprecedented.

He’d called me the following evening I left the penthouse, asking if I wanted to talk, but mismanaged thoughts held my tongue hostage. I had nothing to say at the time. I couldn’t tell if I was upset with him or his ex. Choosing silence allowed me to sort those feelings appropriately without lashing out at the wrong person.

“I’ll reach out to you when I’m ready to talk.” Vaguely, I’d offered the text. Seven days later, I still hadn’t followed through on that promise. The breaking of said pledge left my heart in a vacuum. I missed my man.

“What more is there to say, Reni?” Sadie propped her legs up on a footrest and sat back in her seat. “He told you everything, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Do you want to continue the relationship?” Tori asked.

“I don’t want it to end. I just don’t need this nigga’s past knocking on his door or spilling into our relationship.”

“Too late for that,” Sadie mumbled, sipping a cup of mint tea and palming her swollen belly.

“Had I known about all this, I would’ve—”

Tori scoffed. “You would’ve what? Didn’t you say he told you what he did on the first day you met?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Ain’t no but. Willful ignorance, Reni. Where were your follow-up questions? That was a red flag he freely offered. Where was the due diligence, boo?”

“He’s a good man, Savannah,” Sadie tossed the line from Waiting to Exhale.

“What is it that you want from this thing you’re doing with him? If not marriage, what is the end goal? Have you discussed any of this with Duke?” Tori asked on a heavier note.

“No.” Breathing heavily and ignoring her former questions, I plopped down on the sofa beside her and popped a salmon crustini bite into my mouth. The savory notes of smoked salmon paired well with prosciutto, crème fraiche, and a pinch of caviar. Even the rich bitch hors d’oeuvres didn’t hit the same under emotional malnutrition.

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