Chapter 1
Long Island, New York
New Years Eve
“I told you the motherfucker was cheating!”
Zaire White’s voice was like a cold dash of water over Kat’s already chilled body. The “motherfucker” in question was Damien Rochester, Kat’s college sweetheart turned husband of three years, the father of her six month old, and the only man, outside of family, she’d ever loved. He’d also just left his new and quite identifiable, metallic gray Jaguar XF in the parking lot and headed into an apartment complex sans briefcase. For a few seconds, he’d paused at the double doors and looked around in a manner Kat found suspicious, before pushing the door in and disappearing from her sight.
Stunned, she continued to watch the empty space her husband had vacated. Kat and Damien had gone through their eight year relationship happy and with hardly a fight, but the last half of the year had been strained. The birth of Sophia Nicole Rochester had been a precious event, with Kat bawling when she’d first laid eyes on the seven pound, blue-eyed angel who’d stolen her heart. Damien, too, who rarely wore his emotions on his sleeve, had teared up as he looked down at the new addition to their family. What followed, however, had put a significant damper on their relationship.
As first time parents, Kat and Damien had been so nervous about doing right by their baby girl that they’d allowed their parents, mainly Sophia’s grandmothers, reign on teaching them how to raise her. Like ancient dust in a mummy’s coffin, old family wounds had been stirred and before long, bad blood surfaced. Kat had thought that years and the birth of a grandchild would have cooled the dislike the two matriarchs had for each other. It hadn’t. The last straw had been watching the two throw veiled insults at each other over everything from race to parenting skills, or a lack thereof. By the time Kat and Damien sent the overbearing matriarchs back to their respective dens, there was a dent in the relationship.
That was the reason why Kat was sitting in Zaire’s new car, in the parking lot of a high rise apartment complex, hoping her best friend was wrong.
“Just because he went into some apartment complex, doesn’t mean he’s cheating!” Those semi-reassuring words came from the backseat, where Curtis “Princess” Rivera sat. Princess had been her friend since college, when she and Damien had gone to a frat party at a local club and found him being harassed by a group of jocks. The obnoxious jackasses hadn’t been thrilled about Princess being out, proud, and so hot in that J.Lo. mixed with Nicole Scherzinger way they hadn’t known he was a guy until he threw it in their faces. Damien and his best friend, Gavin Locke, had stepped in and between the two of them, they’d broken a few tables and chairs and a few jocks over them. Since then, Princess had been half in love with Damien and Gavin, and completely biased in their favor.
“Damn, Z! I swear, you’re just bitter at all men after that Gavin episode you instigated. If a man so much as looks at a girl, he’s cheating. Never mind they’ve never met, or he’s gay, or maybe his ass is cross-eyed like a mofo! Cheating! That’s the first thing your fucked up mind goes to.”
Whipping around so fast her long braids fell around her neck and face and giving Princess all sorts of cut-eye, Zaire snapped, “First of all, don’t talk about shit you don’t know! Second, this isn’t the first time this idiot’s come to this same apartment complex and I bet he’s at apartment 13C visiting that bleached-blond slut, just like Angie told me he’s been doing for the past month!”
Kat flinched. She’d recognized her husband coming in later and later, but had been too afraid to truly question it. Once, she’d mentioned it and he’d responded that he was closing a deal for the company. He’d closed deals before, and hadn’t been gone for so long. Still, Kat had been afraid. She
Long Island, New York
New Years Eve
“I told you the motherfucker was cheating!”
Zaire White’s voice was like a cold dash of water over Kat’s already chilled body. The “motherfucker” in question was Damien Rochester, Kat’s college sweetheart turned husband of three years, the father of her six month old, and the only man, outside of family, she’d ever loved. He’d also just left his new and quite identifiable, metallic gray Jaguar XF in the parking lot and headed into an apartment complex sans briefcase. For a few seconds, he’d paused at the double doors and looked around in a manner Kat found suspicious, before pushing the door in and disappearing from her sight.
Stunned, she continued to watch the empty space her husband had vacated. Kat and Damien had gone through their eight year relationship happy and with hardly a fight, but the last half of the year had been strained. The birth of Sophia Nicole Rochester had been a precious event, with Kat bawling when she’d first laid eyes on the seven pound, blue-eyed angel who’d stolen her heart. Damien, too, who rarely wore his emotions on his sleeve, had teared up as he looked down at the new addition to their family. What followed, however, had put a significant damper on their relationship.
As first time parents, Kat and Damien had been so nervous about doing right by their baby girl that they’d allowed their parents, mainly Sophia’s grandmothers, reign on teaching them how to raise her. Like ancient dust in a mummy’s coffin, old family wounds had been stirred and before long, bad blood surfaced. Kat had thought that years and the birth of a grandchild would have cooled the dislike the two matriarchs had for each other. It hadn’t. The last straw had been watching the two throw veiled insults at each other over everything from race to parenting skills, or a lack thereof. By the time Kat and Damien sent the overbearing matriarchs back to their respective dens, there was a dent in the relationship.
That was the reason why Kat was sitting in Zaire’s new car, in the parking lot of a high rise apartment complex, hoping her best friend was wrong.
“Just because he went into some apartment complex, doesn’t mean he’s cheating!” Those semi-reassuring words came from the backseat, where Curtis “Princess” Rivera sat. Princess had been her friend since college, when she and Damien had gone to a frat party at a local club and found him being harassed by a group of jocks. The obnoxious jackasses hadn’t been thrilled about Princess being out, proud, and so hot in that J.Lo. mixed with Nicole Scherzinger way they hadn’t known he was a guy until he threw it in their faces. Damien and his best friend, Gavin Locke, had stepped in and between the two of them, they’d broken a few tables and chairs and a few jocks over them. Since then, Princess had been half in love with Damien and Gavin, and completely biased in their favor.
“Damn, Z! I swear, you’re just bitter at all men after that Gavin episode you instigated. If a man so much as looks at a girl, he’s cheating. Never mind they’ve never met, or he’s gay, or maybe his ass is cross-eyed like a mofo! Cheating! That’s the first thing your fucked up mind goes to.”
Whipping around so fast her long braids fell around her neck and face and giving Princess all sorts of cut-eye, Zaire snapped, “First of all, don’t talk about shit you don’t know! Second, this isn’t the first time this idiot’s come to this same apartment complex and I bet he’s at apartment 13C visiting that bleached-blond slut, just like Angie told me he’s been doing for the past month!”
Kat flinched. She’d recognized her husband coming in later and later, but had been too afraid to truly question it. Once, she’d mentioned it and he’d responded that he was closing a deal for the company. He’d closed deals before, and hadn’t been gone for so long. Still, Kat had been afraid. She
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