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“He said he needed to talk to me because he gave the parole board my name and number.”

“I’m sorry. He did what?” Lisa asked, sounding offended.

“He told them I was his wife and gave them my information as somebody they could contact.”

“And he did that without asking you?”

“Apparently.”

“See, that’s the bullshit I’m talking about,” she snapped. “That nigga ain’t been home a full week, and he already tryna drag you into some shit.”

“He said he wasn’t tryna get back together or anything like that. He just needed me to answer if somebody called asking about him.”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Lisa snapped. “Why the hell would Kentrell give his parole officer your information without asking you first?”

“Because according to him, we’re still married, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” I explained.

“That nigga got some fucking nerve. He doesn’t want a marriage, but he wants to use you whenever it’s convenient. You better had told his ass to go to the Eastside of Hell and stay there,” Lisa fussed.

“You know I did and he got pissed and we started arguing. When I tried to walk off, he grabbed my arm, and that’s when Tae pulled up.”

“Oh, shit. What happened?” She asked.

“He pulled his gun and asked who the fuck was he to be putting his hands on his woman and Kentrell’s stupid ass called me his wife.”

“Gabi, I told you this shit was gone happen.” She groaned.

“I know I fucked up, Lisa. You’on have to keep reminding me,” I replied, wiping my face.

“I’m not tryna beat you down, but you knew better. What did Tae say?”

“Nothing. He left the shop, and when he came home, he walked right past me. He won’t even look at me.”

Lisa sighed. “Baby, you gotta give him a minute. Especially after finding out that way.”

I leaned against the couch, fighting back another round of tears. Lisa knew everything about my marriage to Kentrell. She’d been there when I made the stupid decision to marry him to keep from testifying against him, and she’d spent years telling me to get a divorce. I’d convinced myself that because he was locked up and we hadn’t been together, the marriage didn’t matter anymore. Now because of my actions, the man I loved was upstairs refusing to speak to me.

“That’s not it,” I admitted. “Kentrell had been calling me, and Tae asked who it was and I told him it was nothing,”

“Jesus Devanté, Gabriana. So he gave you a chance to tell him, and you lied?”

“I was scared, Lisa. Things were finally going good between us, and I didn’t wanna lose him.”

“Well, now you might lose him anyway,” she replied. “Look, call an attorney Monday and get that divorce started. As for Tae, tell him everything when he’s ready to listen. Don’t make no more excuses.”

“I will,” I promised.

“And stay the fuck away from Kentrell. Whatever he got going on with his parole officer ain’t your problem.”

We talked a little longer before ending the call. I knew Lisa was right, but giving Tae space was easier said than done when all I wanted was to make things right between us.

I eventually went upstairs and found him coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. His locs were damp, and he barely glanced at me before walking toward the dresser.

“Baby, can we please talk?” I asked, stepping into the bedroom.

“Gabi, leave me the fuck alone, bruh,” he snarled.

“I know you’re angry, but that marriage isn’t what you think. Kentrell and I haven’t been together in eight years. We only got married because he didn’t want me testifying against him, and—”