“Oh, spare me.” The mask falls away, and Qwest’s ire is on full display. “You wish me well because you got nothing to worry about. I’m not a threat to you, and you know it.”
“You think I don’t feel threatened by you?” My scoffing laugh bounces between us. “Many of Grip’s family, friends, and fans would dance in the streets if he dumped me for you. Do you know how many people have told him that being with me discredits the work he does for the Black community? And that you ‘make sense’ and I don’t? That if he wanted to have a real impact, he would choose you?”
“But none of that is Grip,” Qwest says. “You and I both know how he feels about you, that he doesn’t give a damn what any of them thinks. All I hear in everything you’ve said is that he’s willing to tell everyone to fuck off for you, and that’s gotta make you feel as secure as hell.”
She’s right. When it comes down to it, as tired as I am of all the outside voices and influences, I don’t doubt Grip’s love for me. I’ve had moments where I let the negativity get to me, but at the center is a rock-solid faith in our love.
“Besides,” Qwest continues, a touch of malice in the look she gives me, “you saw something you wanted that wasn’t yours, and you went for it. I probably would’ve done the same thing. Game recognize game.”
I see what she’s doing—provoking me—but the thought of her claiming Grip when he was never really hers festers under my skin.
“You’re mistaken,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.
“Oh?” Qwest furrows her brow as if she’s clueless about what I mean. “How am I mistaken?”
“He was never yours.” I force myself to look into eyes that hold more knowledge of Grip than they should.
“He was mine when he was in my bed.”
“He’s been in lots of beds, but there’s only been one woman in his heart.”
“And that’s you?”
“And that’s me.” I hesitate, swallowing cruel words for kinder ones. “Look, I’m trying to be gracious here, Qwest. Don’t make me be mean.”
Her harsh laugh scratches over my ears.
“Well, the next time you feeling all gracious and shit,” she spits through a bitter smile, “and want to lend your man’s dick out, let me know, ’cause honey, I wasn’t done with it.”
She steps closer, her perfume invading my space as quickly as her slim body.
“You may be the only one who’s ever ‘been in his heart,’ but I wouldn’t have known it by the way he fucked me.”
The sharp reminder of their past intimacy slides under my ribs like a stiletto and makes me draw a stilted breath.
“Like I said, game recognize game,” she says. “The next time you want to throw Grip in my face, Bristol, be absolutely certain you can handle what I’ll throw back.”
Why am I even doing this? Why engage with her this way? I know I have nothing to worry about, but I keep letting this damn possessiveness get the best of me, and I’m tired of being jealous for no reason. With a weary sigh, I scoop the hair back from my face. The arrested expression on Qwest’s
face confuses me until she reaches for my hand, holding my ring finger up to the light. Hurt floods her eyes as she studies the large square canary diamond Grip placed there.
“So it’s true,” she says quietly. “He’s marrying you.”
I don’t know what to say. I just stare back at her and wait for her to drop my hand. She forces a laugh.
“Well that was fast.”
“Fast? If you call ten years in the making fast, then yeah.”
She pulls a stream of braids over her shoulder and fingers the sleek strands. Her expression says she doesn’t give a damn, but I’m not convinced, and my heart hurts. I want to hate this woman. She slept with Grip. She led a social media shade campaign against me, but it’s the hurt I see just beneath the surface that keeps me from the dislike I want to give in to.
“I’m sorry, Qwest.” I know she wouldn’t want my pity. I respect her too much for that, and the barbs we just exchanged assure me she doesn’t need it. I can’t be sorry that Grip is mine, but I am sorry she ever thought he would be hers, sorry for my part in letting her believe that even for a few months.
“You said it—you’re the only one who’s ever been in his heart, who ever got past his bed.” Quest’s glassy eyes fix on my ring finger. “The rest of us he fucked, but doesn’t give a damn about.”
Without another word or glance, she turns on her heel and walks away.
Chapter 24