Page 6 of Sweetest Temptation
“I was so in love with you, Jerome… I let myself believe you were still the man I married, even after the first time you stepped out on me. But that man doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe he never did.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, like he thought a carefully chosen apology or another empty promise might crack the door back open. But I didn’t leave it ajar. I slammed it shut last year.
“I tried to prove that I was sorry by holding up this divorce. But all you did was give me pushback.”
“Nigga, you don’t get to play the fucking victim in a story you destroyed,” I added, my voice cold now, and my gazeunwavering. “You made your choice, and I’ve made mine. Have a nice day.”
Before he could muster another lie, a little girl with a smooth chocolate complexion and two pigtails in her hair came running down the courthouse steps. She stopped next to Jerome, clutching onto his legs, and looking up at him with big, bright eyes. I didn’t have to ask who the little girl was because she was a spitting image of her father.
"Daddy, are we going home now?" she asked, her innocent voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
My heart sank. The sight of her, so small and innocent, brought a lump to my throat. Jerome glanced at me, his eyes pleading silently for understanding. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. I looked at the little girl again, her eyes wide with curiosity. She was beautiful, and in that moment, I felt a pang of something I couldn't quite identify. It wasn't jealousy, but a deep-seated ache for what could have been, for the family I had once envisioned.
I didn’t stay to hear Jerome’s reply to his daughter. I turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. But I knew one thing for certain: this was still my path to freedom, and I had to keep moving forward regardless of the painful reminder of his infidelity being in physical form.
I climbed into my silver Mercedes GLE 63 S and headed to my bakery. As I cruised through the streets, Mary J. Blige’s “Not Gon’ Cry” blasted through the car’s sound system. I sang my heart out like I wrote the lyrics, turning my ride into a mini concert.
“That’s right, Mary. We not gon’ cry over these no-good-ass niggas no mo’!” I yelled over the music, my voice cracking just a little.
Mary was my girl. She would always get me right. Whether I was in a “fuck a nigga” mood or a “I love that nigga” mood,my girl never disappoints. I loved her music. She had a concert coming up soon, and the tickets sold out before I had the chance to grab some for Nyala and me. I was so bummed because it was my dream to go see Mary perform. As I continued to jam, my phone rang, cutting into my performance. I glanced at the dashboard display, and I saw it was my cousin, Seraphina.
“Hey, Phina, boo?” I answered just as I whipped my ride through the traffic light before pulling into the parking lot where my bakery was located.
“I was calling to see how you were doing, and to see if you had changed your mind about the divorce.”
“Why would I do that? My husband cheated and had a baby with another woman. Why wouldn’t I divorce him?” I tightly gripped the steering wheel, feeling my knuckles cracking under the pressure. The weight of the revelation felt like it was crushing my chest.
“Is he going broke?”
“Phina, what does money have to do with it? The nigga stuck his dick in another bitch and created a little human. Is that not a cause for a divorce?”
I love my cousin, but she was saditty.
“Wasn’t he taking care of you? You were living in a big house and had that big diamond on your finger. So what… He slipped up and had a baby. It’s not the end of the world. Geesh! People make mistakes, Nova.”
“Mistake? Phina, do you hear yourself? And I don’t need a nigga to take care of me. I ammorethan capable of taking care of myself. Get off my phone. You can stay over there with your cheating-ass husband, who treats you more like a maid instead of his wife. I'd be damned if I stayed married to a serial cheater!” I yelled.
I couldn’t stand Seraphina’s husband. He thought because he was rich and took care of my cousin that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.
“That’s not true. I just like to cater to my husband, Nova. And he didn’t cheat. That whore seduced him.”
“Yeah, okay. Look, I have to go,” I said, ready to get out of the car and go inside my bakery. “I’ll call you later,” I stated, lying, before disconnecting the call.
Seraphina was my favorite cousin, and I loved her to death, but sometimes she got on my nerves with how stuck up and green she could be to the real world.
I grabbed my purse off the passenger seat and climbed out of my car. It was still early, so most of the nearby stores were closed. The bell above the door chimed softly as I walked inside. The familiar scent of freshly baked pastries enveloping me like a warm hug. The early morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the cozy space.
I paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the rows of golden croissants, delicate macarons, and rich chocolate cakes displayed behind the glass counter. I smiled, feeling a sense of pride and contentment. All around me were tables that sat about twenty-five people comfortably. Zanova’s Tasty Treats is my dream come true, a labor of love that I have poured my heart and soul into. And for the past eight years, it has become one of the most popular bakeries in Melville.
As I stepped behind the counter, I was greeted by my store manager, Denise. “Good morning, Boss Lady," she said cheerfully, already handing me my vanilla espresso. "How are you today?”
“Good morning, Denise. I'm doing well, thank you. How about you?"
"I'm great, thank you," she replied. “It’s Friday, so it's going to be a busy day. But we are ready for the rush as always." She smiled.
“Great. Is Trish in yet?”
“Yes. She’s in the back changing, and Ziva just went to the back to get some more cake boxes. Oh, and the contractor called. He said he emailed you some samples of some tiles,” Denise stated, sounding off with things I needed to know.
