Hesitantly, Tynisha agreed and took off with Alton behind her. He waved his goodbye from a distance. He must have caught on to how close I was to swinging on his ass. He’d always said I was extra sensitive when it came to Zoey. I believed sometimes he took shit too far.
“So, Stenton,” Zoey turned to me, drawing closer, making her aroma that much more enjoyable. “How are you really? I know the season ended horribly for you and Philly has been so hard on you…”
She was referring to the shitty second half of last season after All-Star weekend. The one so bad we didn’t make it to the finals. The months that I fell into the bowels of depression and deservedly so. The period of time I’d secretly called on her mother to support me in a way I’d never known possible. It was when I’d awakened sick to my stomach every morning thinking of how Zoey fucked another man.
I didn’t want to uncover the period of that pain.
I placed my hand on her thigh. “I think it’s time to go get that sippy cup,” I’d hoped that didn’t sound as suggestive as it felt.
It was almost one in the morning when we entered her apartment, Zoey asked, “Can I get you a drink?” without pausing, reminding me I was on her turf without my son.
“Sure.”
“Mauve okay?” she asked. I wasn’t a brandy man. I’d guessed she kept it stocked from the time she had it for the first time while with me. I was shipped a case of it from Azmir Jacobs after my last MVP appointment to congratulate me. Everybody knew he was a brandy aficionado. The least expensive bottle ran at $300 a canister. It was rumored that he’d been in the market for pairing with a line. If he got one with Mauve, it’d be epic. “Hang on…I have tequila here, too…some Maracame Gran Platino. How about that?” she yelled from the kitchen while I was still in the foyer. She remembered.
“That’ll work.”
“Cool. Make yourself comfortable,” she called out.
I made my way into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. I could tell she’d made changes in the décor since JR’s birthday party. Or maybe since the furniture had been rearranged, the vibe of the room felt different. Either way, I was in a woman’s home, a woman who clearly had class and sophistication. And while I was sure I’d paid for that elegance, it didn’t seem like mine. It was all Zoey and Jordan’s. In my wild thoughts that I tried to keep contained, I wondered if this was how other men felt while here. If they felt the same sense of privilege and were as impressed as I was. Again, I had to keep my thoughts in check. I wanted to be with Zoey this night. The more time in her presence, the more I grew to need to be intimate with her. I believed it could somehow anchor me.
“Here you go, Mr. Rogers,” Zoey announced as she set my drink on the coffee table before me on a coaster. She set another glass across from that one for herself, but then muttered, “I need to get out of these shoes and romper. Give me a minute and I’ll be right back.”
I grabbed my drink and relaxed back into the plush sofa, admiring the setup of the room. I glanced at an adjacent corner where she had Jordan’s toys neatly stacked. I figured when he played in here she’d set them up for him. There were a few framed family photos on the shelves above the fireplace mantel and the tables throughout the room. I saw her parents with Jordan, Jordan alone, Angela and her family, Ruth, and even Zoey with classmates.