Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
The first thing he always did when running out was turn his head to look for his daughter.
“That’s Daddy!” she squealed. “Hi, Daddy!”
Her squeal was adorable, and her joy was infectious. I smiled and waved with her as Javier blew a kiss. He always did this—blew her a kiss, then smiled as he jogged toward the lineup—but there was something about it today that caught me off guard.
Maybe because right after doing it, he looked me in the eyes with that same smile and bobbed his head.
Or maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.
I tore my eyes away when Deke Bishop was called to the floor and the arena burst into an uproar. That was the thing about my future brother-in-law. Everyone loved him. I was positive that 90 percent of the audience were specifically here to see him.
Deke jogged out with that cocky smile of his, waved at the crowd, and then looked our way. He pressed two fingers to his lips, kissed them, and threw them in the air, eyes locked on Davina.
She kissed her fingers to return his love.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Y’all are so in love. It makes me sick.”
She bumped me with her shoulder, blushing. “Don’t be a hater.”
“I need to tell you something.” I glanced at Davina after pulling my gaze from the jumbotron.
She turned her head, finding my eyes. “What’s up?”
“Luther emailed me.”
Her face immediately twisted into a frown. “And said what?”
“He said he moved to Atlanta and has a job with some tech company. He also said he saw me in the crowd during one of the games, with Aleesa, so he assumes I’m in Atlanta, too, and wants to meet up. He claims he’s changing his ways.” I rolled my eyes.
Davina gave me a careful once-over. “You’re not considering it, are you?”
“No—girl, hell no!” I practically shrieked and was glad Aleesa was tuned out, too busy watching the players run back and forth on the court.
Vina’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Good. ’Cause he doesn’t deserve any of your time anymore. He lost that privilege the moment he disrespected you.”
“I just don’t get how he found my new email address,” I said, watching one of the Ravens miss a layup. The crowd groaned in unison.
“Did he say what kind of tech company he’s working for?”
“No . . . but I do remember him always talking about hacking and how easy it was to find someone’s information.” I shuddered at the idea of him digging deep into the web just to find an email address for me. “I should’ve known better.”
When I left Luther, I had changed my phone number and abandoned my email address to make a new one that didn’t have my first or last name, and I had been glad that I’d never given him Mama’s address.
Mama had met him once during a dinner at Luther’s and my place and had told me the next day that she didn’t like him. That was in the beginning of our relationship. I remember being so upset with her for being judgmental and not accepting him, but now I could see why she’d said it.
She’d seen something in him that I couldn’t see. Something . . . dangerous. Davina said something when she met him, too—that there was something off about him. But my sister, though fiercely protective, knew when to back off. She told me I would see the truth eventually.
Luther would tell me that my family was crazy for thinking so badly about him, and I let him manipulate me into thinking my family actually were the crazy ones.
“If I were you, I would delete his email and act like you never saw it. Your life is way better without him in it, sis.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “You’re right.” I whipped out my phone, went to my emails, and surfed until I found it. “Deleted,” I said after hitting the trash icon. I don’t know why I hadn’t done that sooner. That action alone brought me so much relief.
But that same night, while alone in the guesthouse, hearing crickets chirp and the wind rustle, I took it upon myself to search for Luther on Instagram.
I hadn’t done this in years, but there was something niggling at my brain, begging to see if he had changed. His Instagram handle was the same. LuthTooReal.
“Stupid username,” I mumbled.
His most recent image was of him posing with a group of men. They all wore the same pastel-blue shirts with a logo on the chest.
CordTech.
The next image showed him dressed in a suit, standing in front of a church, with the caption Praise God and the prayer-hands emoji.
Last I checked, Luther had too much of a god complex to consider religion.
Another image showed him sitting on the beach with the caption trying to let go of regrets.
That’s when I closed the app.