Page 42 of Session 33

“Our cars,” she pointed back to a black Dodge Charger just like mine, except instead of black interior, hers was red.

She asked my name, and I told her. She said hers was Elisa and she was visiting from Miami. She asked for my phone, and I handed it over, liking her boldness. She typed in her number.

“I’m at The Tampa EDITION. Call me if you want to do something,” she said, her tone insinuating something sexual.

I joked, “The Tampa EDITION? So, you’re rich, rich.”

She giggled, and a friend called her name. She left, saying bye, and I watched her walk away. When I got back in the car, I stared at her number for a while. The interaction was the first time in a while I’d felt good about myself, like my old self. I didn’t delete it.

I drove to Angel’s, my thoughts still on Elisa. Angel was asleep in bed when I got there. I showered quickly, then climbed in beside her.

Sleep didn’t come easy. My mind kept spinning, thinking about how badly I was fucking up, even if it was just in my head. It wasn’t like I’d done anything wrong. Not really. But it felt wrong—keeping Elisa’s number.

I stared at the ceiling. Angel shifted beside me, murmuring in her sleep, and I turned to look at her. She looked so peaceful, her face relaxed, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Our baby was growing inside her, and here I was, lying next to her, feeling myself over a five-minute interaction with some woman I didn’t even know. What the fuck was wrong with me?

Chapter Thirty two

Fuck. How did people deal with guilt on an everyday basis without jumping off a building?

I sat on the couch, staring at my phone, my thoughts running in circles. I couldn’t stop thinking about the number I’d stupidly saved in my contacts—but I couldn’t even remember the bitch's name to delete it. Her name being in my phone felt like a ticking time bomb, a reminder of how close I’d come to fucking everything up. The thrill I’d gotten from the encounter had been intoxicating—a flash of my old life. The days when I didn’t have to think about anyone but myself. But was it worth how I was feeling now? Hell no.

"What the hell was I thinking?" I muttered under my breath, running a hand over my face. Stupid. If Angel found out, she’d fuck me up. I was an idiot for even entertaining the thought, especially after I’d just gotten in a fight with Silas about not being that guy anymore.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, the door creaked open. I looked up to see Angel walk in. She looked beautiful, as always, but now she always looked exhausted. Pregnancy was kicking her ass, but I was grateful she was going through everything for our baby. I’d make sure she and my child never wanted foranything. I quickly plastered on a smile, hoping she wouldn’t read me. Was guilt visible?

"Hey, baby," she greeted, her voice soft but curious. "What's going on?"

I stood up, meeting her in the foyer, blocking her view as she took off her shoes. "Hey, pretty," I replied, walking over and pulling her into a tight hug. Her scent calmed my nerves. It felt like I was holding onto the one person keeping me from spiraling out of control.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at me, a frown on her face. "You okay? You seem... off."

For a second, I hesitated. The urge to spill everything, to snitch on myself, was strong, even though I hadn’t really done anything. But the fear of losing her kept my mouth shut. "I'm good," I lied, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Angel raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but willing to let it slide. “I have a surprise for you,” I said, taking her arm and leading her to the living room. Her face lit up when she noticed the setup I had arranged—lavender-scented candles, a massage chair, a foot bath, and all the necessary tools for a pedicure. The professional pedicurist I’d hired stood by—a young gal from one of the nail schools everyone in this one Facebook group recommended. Pretty, thick, skin the color of caramel. She smiled warmly.

"What's all this?"

"Just thought you could use some pampering," I said, trying to sound casual. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

She smiled, a small but genuine smile that made my heart ache with guilt. "It's sweet, Cassius."

I shrugged. "You deserve it," I insisted, guiding her to the chair. "Let them take care of you. You need a break."

As the pedicure began, I tried to relax, sitting back down on the couch. But my mind kept racing. What was that bitch’s name? I wouldn’t feel better until I could erase that mistake before it turned into something more. Sure, I had other women’s numbers in my phone, but this was different—intentional.

I watched Angel close her eyes, letting the tension slip away. I felt a pang of something—jealousy, maybe? She seemed so at ease while I was barely holding it together.

"What's wrong?" Angel's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I looked up, startled. "What?"

She sighed, her eyes searching mine. "You've been acting strange. Extra attentive. It's sweet, but... is there something you're not telling me?"

Panic flared in my chest, but I quickly smothered it. I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. "Just wanted to remind you how much I love you," I said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "That's all."

Angel didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she let it go. We continued the evening, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy. During dinner, I kept the conversation light, talking about the future and our plans for the baby. But every word felt like a lie, a cover-up for the secrets I was keeping. The tension between us was palpable, and I hated it.

After dinner, as we lay in bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was on borrowed time. I held Angel close, trying to find comfort in the warmth of her body. But my mind kept drifting back tothat stupid number in my phone, the one mistake that could unravel everything.

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