How far had she and Langston gone by now? Were they still wrapped up in each other, or had she already fixed her hair, reapplied her lipstick and driven home to me?
I leaned back in the taxi, scrolling through the suit photos my mom had sent earlier. [Sweetheart, take your time choosing. When the day comes, the wedding will be perfect. I'll make sure of it.]
***
As expected, by morning, Yvonne was beside me again, acting like nothing had changed. She watched me with that soft, affectionate look, as if I was the only person who existed.
I picked up my phone and pressed play. It was a video from Langston. No sound, but the images were enough. His hands tearing at her clothes. Her body arching into him like it was second nature.
The way she let him have her—without hesitation, without restraint. A beast in human form. That was how I had seen him at first, but maybe she was worse.
Yvonne stretched beside me, rubbing her eyes, smiling like she had just woken up from a perfect dream. “Jordan, you don’t have to work anymore. You went to jail for me, so of course, I have to take care of you. I’ll support you from now on.”