He quickly bit back, “Because he shares this place with his mother, who deserves privacy!”
I jumped at that. Things went quiet for a few moments and I hoped Stenton was cooling his hooves. I just wanted both of them gone at this point.
“I’m sorry for that.” He exhaled again. “Listen, Jenna. Go home. I’ll meet you there and catch you up on everything.”
“I can wait for you.”
“No!”
“Stenton!” Jenna wheezed. “What is going on? Why haven’t you welcomed me in? Is Zoey there? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course she’s here. It’s her place, but they’re sleeping. It’s late. I’ll meet you at your place.”
“Stenton, please. It’s a two hour drive. We can drive together.”
“That won’t be necessary. I need to stop off at my place for a few things.”
“Fine!” she hissed and from the sounds of it stomped off.
Stenton closed the door and steeled in place, not turning to face me. All I could think about was how guarded Jordan and I were, living in a refurbished warehouse that no one would automatically assume was a large luxury apartment. How she was able to walk up and knock on my door without resistance. But of course this was the phenomenon; she was Stenton’s woman and had access to his life. Why he created a barrier to it for Jordan and me and I didn’t understand.
That aside, I had more pending questions, issues…dilemmas. Those feelings of inferiority had returned. Jenna’s arrival reminded me of his choice. His decision. Stenton had chosen her and not me. I was about to cross the line, allow myself to be a secret lover all under the guise of nothing or no one being bigger than Stenton and Zoey. I had allowed myself to believe that giving myself to him while he belonged to someone else was fine because…again, we were Stenton and Zoey. We were soul mates who could never free each other from the magnetic pull of our chemistry. Bullcrap! Stenton didn’t want me. If he had, he’d’ve chosen me long ago.
Stenton finally turned to me, wearing an apologetic expression. “Look, Zo—”
“Why are you here?”
“Come again…?”
“Why did you come here? When Quincy died, why did you ask Srey to call me? Why disrupt my resolve of there never being an “us” instead of calling your uncle, Sarah…or…or Maggie for instance? Why call me? Why continue the charade of “Mess with Zoey’s Head?”
“Zo—”
“DON’T!” I screamed, then decided to lower my voice. “Don’t Zo me. Don’t call me. Don’t bother me anymore, Stenton. Just let me go. Let me be. Let me live, and you be a good man to the apparently good woman you just kicked out of your “son’s home.”
I walked off to my room. In a fit of anger, I snatched the bedding from my mattress, throwing them into the corner, exerting more energy than necessary. I didn’t hear from Stenton for the rest of that night, didn’t want to or expect to. But perceptively, I knew he was gone. And that bitterness I’d developed for him in Rio de Janeiro increased tenfold.
Chapter 9
November 2012
~Zoey~
“Could you remind me once again why we’re here?” I attempted to speak low and without moving my lips, thinking Jordan wouldn’t hear, and neither could anyone on the other side of the door.
“Because we were invited,” my mother replied in the same manner, avoiding my imploring eyes.
If we weren’t on the steps of Jenna’s modest Englewood colonial, I’d give Sarah Barrett a small piece of my mind regarding her stubbornness and imperceptible need to support this man and his shenanigans. And I was even tempted to start until the door swung open.
“You’re here!” Jenna noted and grabbed Jordan into her arms as if she had some level of familiarity with him.
Of course we made it. You wisely called Sarah Barrett instead of me to get me here.