Lonely Hearts Won't Break

ONE｜ALONE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is intended for a mature audience. It contains adult themes, coarse language and sexual content.

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Summer solstice was beginning to get to the both of us, maddening me, silencing her. Every beam from the sun shining down from every angle held such an undesirable and uncomfortable warmth that had me stuffing my hands in the pockets of my shorts and shifting on my heels. Neither of us could avoid it, no matter how much we wanted to. The heat of the moment was inescapable.

"You sure you wanna do this?"

Layla sighed and lowered her eyes away from my face. Her thick curls fell over her glasses, her expression was hidden. Her silky caramel skin glimmered as she stood frozen. I was blinded by her beauty, always, but even more so her audacity to ignore me. But when she slowly stepped down from the curb and lifted the leather strap of her purse over her shoulder, I got an immediate yes I hoped would be a no.

"So that's it?" I asked with a shrug, becoming more and more impatient. "We're just done?"

"You act as if we're getting a divorce, Dallas."

"Shit, we might as well!"

It was then I was reminded with a cough that our neighbor Ms. JoAnne was sitting on her stoop. She was always out here scanning the block with her legs crossed, blonde hair pinned back underneath a huge hat, cat on her lap and a glass of iced tea in her hand. The lens of her shades may have been tinted but I could see her piercing blue eyes cornered on us. The lady was nosy as fuck, a fed.

"Lower your tone," Layla gritted and glanced over at Ms. JoAnne, forcing a smile onto her lips.

"You all okay over there?" she called out as if we weren't separated by a stairwell.

"Yes, we're fine. Thank you," Layla's smile became wider and just straight up awkward before she turned her head back to me. "Can we not be that black couple making a scene? You know the cops would pull up in less than as second if someone calls them and arrest you in a heartbeat."

"Man," I rolled my eyes and stepped back toward the foot of our stoop to take a seat. By now my joints were burning from going back and forth, up and down every set of stairs with Layla's heavy boxes weighing down my arms. "This is fuckin' Harlem and fuck these white folks. We were here first!"

"Oh my God,"

Layla quickly turned around to peel down the door of her rented moving truck, mumbling stupid ass this and dumb ass that under her breath while I squinted my eyes over at Ms. JoAnne.

"My lawyer will be sending you the paperwork within the next week," Once the door was locked, Layla wiped her hands down her denim shorts and gave me one last glance. "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be. Look over it with your law-"

"I'm not signing any of that shit," I shot back, cutting right into her plead. "Did you even think about Noor? We're supposed to pack her up and ship her off every other week across boroughs like some damn luggage? She's a child, Layla."

"People co-parent all the time. You act as if this isn't something we can do."

"Supposed to," I said lowly. "This isn't something we're supposed to do. We vowed, for better or worse, that we would make this work. For richer, for poorer, we would stand side by side and weather the storm. You ain't right here by my side, Lay. You're walking away from our home, our life together, our family - the three of us together as one. You're giving up and..."