Page 20 of War
Eight
At least the swelling went down. Now all she had to do deal with was a black eye.
Technically, it wasn’t black. It was more like a fuchsia, purple mix. It definitely looked like a bruise and as much as Faith would love to claim how much of a beauty guru she is, she couldn’t explain away a black eye due to a new eye shadow.
So she beat her face until she couldn’t beat it any longer. Makeup took a bit longer to do in the mornings but when she was done, Faith looked like she stepped onto a movie set and not a boxing ring.
The infamous fight took place several weeks ago and Faith returned to work, business as usual, without saying a word to her employees what happened. It didn’t matter if she told them all of the sordid details; they found out from word on the street and demanded Faith told them everything.
Swearing all of them to secrecy, Faith told them everything but couldn’t play back the footage because it was now in the hands of the NYPD. That was fine by her. She didn’t want to review any tapes and accidentally see the footage.
Now it was a new day.
Eli was scheduled to come home later that night after spending the weekend in Houston. A full, two-day weekend.
With Elena. And her mother.
Faith swallowed the bile that threatened to come out of her throat. It wasn’t fair to Eli. He’d called every night and even FaceTimed her from the hotel room he shared with Nick. He even took pictures of where he was and sent them to Faith, telling her he wanted her to come with him next time.
The next time…
…the next time…
...the next time.
Faith rolled her shoulders to release the burdening tension between them. For as long as she lived, she would have to deal with the fact Eli had another family. She was going to be Elena’s stepmother. Elena would spend summers with her siblings. Her children might even go visit her.
No, on second thought. That would never happen.
Faith glanced up at the clock. Eli was going to arrive later that night. She was already running late after dropping the children off at their respective schools. She had a full day at the salon with two weave installs and a press and curl. She didn’t need to be distracted any more with Simone, her bastard child, and if Eli was still sleeping with Simone.
If you don’t trust your husband, you need to let him go.
Amy’s words were like a broken clock to Faith, no matter how much she put it on snooze. Eli had given her plenty of reason to never trust him and now she had to? For why? To keep the family together? To keep up public appearances?
When the couple separated before, Faith could remember how thirsty Eli’s fans were the moment they heard about his separation. Women left comments on his Facebook and IG pages, practically begging him to give them the chance to blow him.
When Faith confirmed the announcement, she only received condolences.
Faith was about to leave when she noticed a photo in the hallway that caught her attention. It was when they both were still in high school. Eli was incredibly skinny, had a long ponytail, and wore baggy clothing that was passed down from his brothers.
Faith, meanwhile, was dressed out of Saks Fifth Avenue. She wore the best FUBU, Baby Phat, and Rocawear her daddy’s money could buy. They came from two different worlds but it didn’t matter. Eli spoiled her like it was going out of business. He never had any money so he would make cards, mixtapes, and record Faith’s favorite shows so she could watch them later.
He would text her first thing in the morning, after a difficult class, and late at night. When she was struggling in Calculus, Eli asked Nick if he knew of any college students who could tutor for a small fee. Faith ended up passing Calculus with an A.
Faith could admit she was overly hard on him. Eli had given her everything and she was still struggling to trust him. Could she really overcome Elena being her stepdaughter? Even she had to ask herself where was the limit.
“Hey,” Eli walked inside the home.
Faith didn’t hear Eli come inside. “Hey.” She glanced at her husband and felt her heart stop. Dressed casually in jeans, a fitted shirt, and Timbs, Eli was New York personified. A small platinum cross hung from his neck and a backwards Yankees baseball cap covered his head.
He was her bad boy. She was his good girl. They were destined to fail. They were determined to make it work. Against all odds.
“I thought you would’ve been gone already,” He said. His eyes perused over her attire of tight jeans, black sweater, and matching boots. Her hair was now long and hanging down her back. Her makeup was soft and light. She looked like Nefertiti herself.
“I was running late after dropping the kids off school so I’m about to head out now.” She picked up her Chanel purse. She smelled Eli long before he’d approached her. He stood right before her and glanced over at the same picture she looked at.
“High school,” he gave a small chuckle, “we were ghetto fabulous. I was the ghetto part.”
