“Here I am,” I force myself to reply brightly, sitting down at my laptop. “Come to distract me from my job again?”

“Not this time.” Yari walks over, her expression serious. “Billie resigned.”

“What?” I close my laptop and stand. “What do you mean resigned?”

“Resigned, as in, take-your-job-and-shove-it resigned.”

“But why?”

“I had to,” Billie says from the open door, her face tear-streaked and splotchy. “It’s over with Paul.”

Yari and I meet her halfway, and she’s in our arms before the first harsh sob spills from her. God, I hate the sound of a broken heart. I’ve heard it so many times from women in my family who exchanged their bodies for hope of a better future, only to be disappointed time and again. From friends who trusted the wrong men—who gave them everything they wanted thinking it would make them stay, only to watch them leave. Heartbreak is a habit for some women, one I promised myself I’d never form.

“Tell us.” I walk Billie over to sit on a sewing table and slip my arm around her shoulders. “What happened?”

“I came in this morning, and he told me we had to end it.” Billie swipes at her nose with a trembling hand.

“Here, honey,” Yari says, digging some Kleenex out of a nearby drawer.

“Thanks.” Billie blows her nose and bites her lip. “He said his wife found out about us.”

“Oh, my God.” One hand covers my mouth and the other my heart. “How?”

“I don’t know.” Billie shrugs and closes her eyes tightly. “But he said when she confronted him about it, he confessed everything and said it was . . . a fling. Nothing. He told her I was nothing.”

Another sob shakes her chest and crumples her face. She hiccups the next words.

“He told her it was a slip-up, a mistake that only happened once.” Billie’s laugh is void of humor, full of hurt. “We’ve been together over a year. He took me to Aspen for our anniversary. How could he lie that way?”

“He’s a liar,” Yari says, her voice brittle. “He lied to his wife, and he lied to you. It’s what he does. I know you’re hurting, but it’s for the best, Bill. You can do better than that. Better than him.”

“She’s right, Billie,” I say, a little more gently, but no less direct.

Billie nods, her usually neat red hair mussed and falling around her shoulders, as if she’s been running her hands through it. “I almost feel like I knew it would have to happen like this. Like I brought it on myself.”

“How do ya figure?” Yari asks.

Billie settles curious green eyes on me for long seconds.

“What?” I ask. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“At my birthday party,” she says. “You said be careful what you wish for. Why’d you say that?”

I blink at her, searching for some explanation that would make logical sense to them. “No reason.” I run a hand over the back of my neck. “Why? What did you wish for?”

“A baby. I wished for a baby to force his hand, to make him choose,” she whispers. Her eyes fill with tears. “I know it’s the oldest trick in the book, but I stopped taking my pills.”

“Bill, no.” Yari’s horrified eyes stretch wide, flicking between me and our friend. “Are you pregnant?”

“No.” She looks at me again. “His wife is.”

My heart drops to my feet. I don’t know what made me say that. I don’t always know details, but sometimes I have impressions or a strong feeling. Whatever gift I inherited from MiMi, it’s not perfect or precise like the night I sensed death near and assumed it was for Kenan, but it was actually warning me about Simone.

“I wished for a baby to make him choose,” Billie says bitterly. “I guess I should have specified a baby for me to make him choose me. You were right, Lo. I should have been careful what I wished for.”

I can’t answer the questions in her eyes to any satisfaction, so I redirect the conversation. “So you resigned.”

Billie watches me for a few more seconds before nodding. “I can’t work for him anymore. Not after this. I’ll start pounding the pavement, I guess.”

“You have a business degree from NYU,” I say wryly. “And four years working for one of the hottest houses in fashion. We’ll find you something.”

“What if it’s not finding something,” Yari says, her bright eyes flashing between us, “but making something.”

“What do you mean?” Billie draws her brows together. “Me? Make something? You know I can’t sew or design or even cross-stitch. The only head I have for fashion is a business mind.”

“Right.” Yari jogs over to the table where my things are and holds up my sketch pad. “But I happen to have a friend who is very good at making things.”

“Me?” I point at my chest. “No, I’m not ready to strike out on my own. I’ve still got a lot to learn from JP. Maybe in a year or so.”

“I think you underestimate yourself,” Billie says, borrowing some of Yari’s excitement. “We could do it, Lo. We could start our own label.”

“And your podcast has become so popular,” Yari chimes in. “We could totally leverage the influence you’re building through it.”

I’m about to tell them what a horrible idea this actually is, when Paul walks in.

Brave, foolish man.

“Billie, could I talk to you for a minute?” he asks, fixing his eyes on her and deliberately avoiding the glares Yari and I hurl his way.

“No, Paul.” Billie looks at him, and I hate the weakness creeping into her eyes when their stares connect. “There’s nothing left to say.”

“I disagree,” he replies, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat. “Uh, ladies, maybe you could excuse us for a minute.”

“Uh, Paul,” Yari snaps, stepping in front of Billie to partially obscure his view, “maybe you could go fuck yourself for a minute.”

“Look, I’m still the CEO of this company, dammit,” he says harshly, “and you can’t talk to me like that. I will not abide insubordination.”

“Insubordination?” I ask, a dark chuckle rolling out of my mouth. “You have five seconds to take your ass back upstairs or your wife gets a call from me tonight with the truth, not that shit you told her to cover your ass.”

“Billie, if you could—”

“One,” I say, stepping beside Yari to completely hide Billie from his view.

Red mottles his winter-pale skin and he frowns. “Look, I can explain—”

“Two,” Yari says, her arms folded over her chest, her hip cocked out.

“You want a recommendation, don’t you, Billie?” he asks, a cruel light in his blue eyes. “How far do you think you’ll get in this industry if everyone knows you tried to sleep your way to the top?”

I walk over to him until I’m so close I can smell what he had for lunch.

“Oh, you got threats now, Paul?” I ask in a dangerously soft tone. “You don’t want to threaten her, because when you threaten her, you threaten me. And when you threaten me, I attack.”

“You can’t hurt me,” he sneers, but a vein of nervousness runs through his voice.

“You sure about that?” I ask, using artificial sweetener for my smile. “You do know why we no longer use Chase, right? He crossed me, and it only took one conversation with JP to ensure he wouldn’t be coming back. Maybe it’s time JP knows you’ve been fucking his employees.”

“You’re crazy,” he says, fear darkening his eyes.

“Yes, which is why if I were you, I’d run. I’m crazy enough to take great pleasure in destroying your career, that sham of a marriage, and anything promising in your future.” I angle my head to Yari behind me. “What number were we on, Ri?”

“Three,” she spits.

“Oh, yeah.” I scowl up at him. “Three. Four. If you’re still standing here at five, I start destroying shit.”

With a growl that may as well be a whimper, he turns on his heel and strides from the room.

I turn back to my friends and grin.

“Chicken shit,” I say with a cackle. I high five Yari and go to do the same with Billie, but the tears in her eyes stop me. “Oh, honey. He’s not worth your tears. You can do better. You’ll find someone better.”

“I know that.” She sniffs and gives us a tremulous grin. “But my heart has to catch up to what’s right.”

I caress the small square hidden in my pocket, its words tucked away on a shelf in my soul. Doing what’s right sometimes breaks our hearts. Knowing it’s right doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I know that firsthand.

44

Kenan

“He fakes left,” I tell August as we leave the practice facility. “You’ll have to guard him tight, and he’s a beast off the dribble.”

“I got it, Glad,” August replies, hefting his gym bag onto his shoulder.

“Don’t give him much room. Push him back so he has to take a lower percentage shot at least.”

“I watched the same film you did.” August pauses before we go our separate ways, his car on one side of the parking lot and mine on the other. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. This is the best season start we’ve ever had. This is our year, bruh. Why are you so uptight?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I know you got it. Just a lot going on, I guess.”

“Everything okay with Simone?”

August and Iris have been supportive and know the demands I’ve been juggling between the season and having Simone living with me.

“Yeah, she’s good, man. Thanks for asking.” I chuckle. “And being here for her is exactly what my mom needed. Ken and I were worried about her after my dad died, but taking care of Simone has given her a new lease on life. Dr. Packer says Simone’s much better.”