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“I’ll take an iDrive to her place and meet you there,” he says and I end the call.

Shae reads my perplexed and upset face. “Let me guess. You’re not staying,” she says disappointedly.

“He’s coming to pick me up.”

“I love you but I don’t care what you say. I’m talking to Keyshauna about you.”

As much as I hate to even think what she believes is possible, I also know me. I’m not happy. I want to leave Langston. I’ve convinced myself that I would a million times but something stops me and it’s not love. This is not natural.

“Okay,” I relent.

When we pull up to Shae’s duplex, Langston is in my Jeep and waiting. He has a key, so the engine is running. He doesn’t even bother to get out when we pull up. Shaking my damn head, I rush inside and grab my things. Before I walk back outside, Shae hugs me.

“Love you,” I tell her.

“I love you too and thanks for going with me tonight.”

When our embrace ends, she stares for a moment, clearly wanting to say more, but she refrains. She simply hugs me again then holds her door open for me to exit. With what feels like a heavy load on my back, I amble to my ride and get in.

“We belong together, E. Whatever is in your head, let it go. I love you and no one will ever love you like I do,” he says. I don’t know what words or reaction he’s expecting, but I feel nothing but disgust. The tiny hairs on my arms are at full alert and I feel nauseous. “Did you hear me?”

“I did and I have a lot to think about.”

“But you’re not going to leave me though, right?”

“No,” falls off my mouth and I quickly open my door and actually throw up. My mouth, mind, and body are battling and it just manifested in vomit.

“Damn! Are you okay?” he asks.

“Not even close to it.”

I have no more words, none. There’s nothing else to say, especially since my damn mouth keeps voicing the opposite of what I want and think. He keeps talking and I tune him out and remain mute. He eventually takes the hint and shuts the hell up.

When we make it to the condo, I take an extra-long, extra-hot shower in the guest bathroom and pray he’s asleep by the time I make it to our bedroom. No such luck though. He’s up and propped against the headboard when I walk in. Shaking my head, I walk over, snatch two pillows off the bed, and walk back to the guest bedroom. Thankfully, he doesn’t follow.

After laying frustratedly in the guest bed for another two hours, I drift to sleep only to be awakened by him getting ready for work a few hours later. I intentionally remain in here until I hear him leave. All alone, I amble out of bed, drag myself to our bedroom, complete my morning routine, minus another shower, then get dressed. I prepare my instant latte and lunch, then head out.

The last two days have been torture with this insufferable man. My sleep was horrible again last night. After arguing with Langston, I returned to the guest room only to toss and turn because my mind kept replaying the last year with Langston. For the life of me, I couldn’t and still can’t come up with one reason why I can’t leave him. Not one. Shae might be right about other forces at play and that thought petrifies me.

Have I been living with a man capable of putting roots or something bad on me?

Could Langston really do that to me?

My God, I need to do something fast.

Before walking into the call center, I send Shae a text. She’s probably in court and will answer me when she can.

Me: Talk to your coworker. I want to meet her if she’s open.

After turning my phone on silent, I clip my badge on my jeans, grab my bags and latte, then head in. My shift starts in fifteen minutes, giving me enough time to clock in, place my lunch into the breakroom, and relieve my bladder. I make it to the floor right on time and sign in. I have a call within two minutes of attaching my headset.

“911. What’s the location of your emergency?”

The first two hours of my shift are pretty normal, a few usual callers and minor emergencies. When a shift starts off slow like this, we’re all very careful not to speak on it. It’s bad luck. If anyone comments on it, we get slammed in a bad way within an hour of the comment. It never fails.

“I’m going to grab some coffee. It’s slow as hell,” Mr. Robert says and we all glare at him.

“Mr. Robert!” Tami exclaims and he raises his hands in defense.