A Stone Cold Love In Miami

J A M A R

 My vision was blurry and I groaned, feeling for the soft body that was usually beside me. My arm found nothing but the cool sheets and I rolled over, blinking blearily at the alarm clock on the bedside table. I slept in later than normal. Just then, I heard the sound of running water from the shower mixed faintly with the familiar cadence of Margaret's humming. Tugging the blanket off me, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching out and yawning. Bright sunlight filtered from underneath the bedroom's closed door, another reminder to get my lazy ass up.

Smoothing my hand over my durag, I got up and opened the ensuite's door to enter the bathroom.

"Morning, baby," I called as I stood in front of the toilet and yanked the front of my boxers down to take a leak.

The sound of the running water shifted and Margaret stuck her head out of the side of the shower curtain. Her face was bare and her hair was covered with a shower cap, but damn did she look adorable.

"Hey, morning, babe," she said with a smile and I leaned over to peck her on the lips before she ducked back behind the curtain. I finished peeing and flushed the toilet, then turned to wash my hands at the sink.

"So, babe," I said, turning on the faucet. "I was thinking we should go out on a date soon. It's been awhile."

"Yes, I'd love that," Margaret piped up enthusiastically.

"A'ight, cool. Lemme plan a lil something-something-"

Margaret's phone ringtone blasted from her makeup bag on the edge of the sink, cutting me off mid-sentence. I reached for it and picked it up to see Private Caller. Margaret stuck her head out and before I could say anything else, she swiped the phone from my hand, flinging water droplets.

"Oh, don't answer that, babe, it's either my boss calling or some scam call, I've been getting a lot of them lately." She ignored the call and put her phone face down on the shelf of towels beside the tub, then disappeared behind the curtain again, her humming low.

A sickening feeling went through my stomach, like a lead ball slamming into my gut. I didn't move from my stance at the sink as I stared at the ugly deep green bamboo curtain Margaret had picked out and then at the shelf where her phone sat while she hummed, oblivious. As much as Margaret loved to preach about transparency and shit like that, she was also a very private person. We didn't answer each other's phones regularly, but if the other wasn't available then we sometimes did. The only people who really called her were a couple of her work friends and her boss. While I'd met her colleagues a few times when Margaret had gone out for drinks with them, I'd never met or talked to her employer.

Margaret had told me her boss was Brenda Thompson, some middle-aged white woman. What if she was lying? What if the private caller was someone else entirely? I couldn't ignore the alarm bells going off in my head or that gut feeling that tells every man when shit ain't right. I knew I'd been slacking in the romance department, but really, a nigga was busy hustling. Even with constantly being on the go, I still sexted Margaret when we were apart and I made sure to give her the business in the bedroom, at least three times a week. I was always putting in effort to keep shit fresh and try to keep her on her toes, but lately it was a lot less heavy than when we'd initially started dating. But that shit was normal, wasn't it? It's not like I had a guidebook or an example I grew up with to help figure out the mindfuck of continuity that was a serious relationship.

Nah, I had to be tripping. When I envisioned Margaret cheating on me my brain just shut down, the visual impossible to conjure up. All that came to the front of my mind was Margaret with complete adoration in her eyes whenever she stared at me or the way her face lit up with a beaming smile when she had dinner ready for me after a long day and chilling with Caleb. She'd never given me a reason to think she was that kind of woman to be doing me dirty behind my back.