I laugh, shaking my head.
“And I love you back. I’m so grateful. Thank you, truly, for holding space for me.
“For so long, this man made me feel invisible. He overlooked a million tiny labors I did to keep him happy and our house feeling like a home.
“That single call reminded me he doesn’t miss me as a person—he misses the perks of being married to me. Magically, the dishes were always clean and the microwave was spotless—am I right, friends? The towels washed themselves, and there was never any dust.
“Well, you know what? All you folks out there who feel ‘blindsided’ when she asks for a divorce? She’s been making all the magic happen. All the invisible labor. She’s the house cleaner, short-order cook, personal admin, and laundry maiden. She’s been doing it all, unappreciated.”
Magically walked out that door, too.
Left mine after twenty-five years. Never looked back. Best decision I ever made.
Baybee, he didn’t know his mate from his mom.
Men know what they’re doing. Weaponized incompetence!
The gaslighting…
My face when I got the word my divorce was finalized??
And yet he’s baffled.
“Yes! Hello, the divorce didn’t come from out of nowhere. He had almost ten years to change and didn’t.
“Y’all, I couldn’t see it back then, but I was slowly disappearing with every unnoticed act. Now, I couldn’t be happier to be a walkaway wife. In fact, IwishI’d left sooner. Phew!”
A huge weight lifts off me, and I feel like I’m breathing easier.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go, but I’ll leave you with this. Exit immediately if you’re unhappy, and if you choose to find someone else, make sure that person is willing to give the help, support, and love you need.
“For me? I want someone who’ll show up, you know? He’s got to meet me halfway and keep the romance alive.”
I sing that last part, shimmying my shoulders for the divas.
“That’s all for now. As always, pause, peace, power.”
An hour, two dress changes, one very apt “grateful for my Calming Water Sounds playlist” journal entry, and three almost-called-Linc moments later, I’m at the mixer. It’s in a private room at a swanky downtown hotel, and I’m rubbing elbows with Ellswood’s crème de la crème, chatting and looking fierce in a tailored black velvet gown with a plunging neckline and a thigh-high slit, cinched unbreathably tight with a diamond-encrusted belt.
Also, I’m bored out of my mind.
It’s not that there aren’t any decent-looking guys in attendance. No, I’ve talked to a few who actually have potential—CEOs, pilots, construction directors—all great conversationalists, above average height, and physically fit-ish. Thankfully, no AI Lincs or undercover casting directors.
That I know of.
Honestly, Idris Elba, Aaron Pierre, and Morris Chestnut could be begging me for a date and dessert, and I wouldn’t even blink right now. Unloading on Julian left me feeling lighter, bolder. But all I want to do is leave, find Linc, and let go.
“Ebony?”
I turn to see Nelly—or rather, Cornelius, Julian and Donovan’s youngest brother—standing behind me. Compared to Julian’s razor-sharp confidence, Nelly’s got this laidback energy with an easy grin and relaxed posture, like he’s always a few steps ahead of the crowd without trying. His towering height and playboy aesthetic don’t hurt either. Still, my stomach drops.
Panic shoots through me, and I wonder if he’s seen today’sDivorcétante Chronicles, or if he’s just living under a gold-plated rock.
“Hi,” I say sheepishly, my focus darting past him to a man in the distance, phone aimed in our direction…Is that the PI again? Who ishe following?
I quickly scan the crowd, hoping to spot a familiar face from Whisk & Whistle, but really, it could be anyone.
Nelly clears his throat. “Listen, Ebony, I just want you to know I don’t agree with how my brother treated you.”
