Page 65 of Jace
Yes, I was betrayed by my ex. I’m still being assaulted by one of the most wicked modern crimes. But I didn’t shed tears for David. Not from the moment he aimed that video at me.
I cried because it meant…
I couldn’t be with Jace.
I knew during my first week working at Delta’s, when I silently watched Jace perch on his stool by the door. Wearing a black suit, straining over muscles. Reading an alien romance. Smiling and turning its pages. Swiping away a quick tear over something tender in his book…
That I would fall in love with him.
I took a picture of that moment.
And developed it that night.
I sleep with his photo inside my pillowcase.
This doesn’t feel like deception: me and Jace. This feels like destiny deferred.
And now I have to summon everything inside me to act like I’m not madly in love with Jace while I stare down the little semen sack I was married to.
“Jace, please let me handle him. He’s here for me.”
“But how doyouknow he’s on his way? You can’t greet him at the door, all angry. We can’t let him know we’re following him.” He zips his suit pants. “I’ll be at the door. You’ll be in your studio. That’s what he’s going to find.”
His phone plays “Thunderstruck” again. He shakes his head. “I gotta answer this. It’s Delphine.” He puts the call on speakerphone while making quick work of buttoning his shirt.
“Hey,” Jace answers. “You’re on speaker.”
“Vivian?”
Instantly, I adore Delphine. She knows where Jace is, I am. She coos my French name, as it should sound. She defers to a woman first, as every smart woman does. That’s a queen.
“Yes?” I answer her, calling out to Jace’s phone on my table while yanking my hair into a ponytail.
“The merde… I mean, the shit is three blocks away. I am sorry. I cannot stop him. But tell me. Today, I followed him to a bar on Shem Creek. It serves greasy chicken scraps. It is all mensitting on their asses, watching sports, not playing them. You know this place, yes?”
“Donald and Dicks Wings?”
“Ouais. He acts as if he owns the place.”
I scoff. “Typical, but he doesn’t; his slimy cousin does.”
“This cousin,” she asks, “would he hide a server?”
My brows shoot up, struck by the most obvious, not obvious person. “Yes!” I tell her. “DJ, his cousin, is about as technologically sophisticated as a pile of smelly laundry. But he’s about as dirty too.”
I can hear the smile in Delphine’s smoky voice. “Ouais. It is mon intuition. Ruby will search his house. I will search his bar. We will help you.”
I grab a grateful breath, sighing to Jace’s phone as if Delphine and Ruby were here. “Thank you. I… I really appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
Blinking back tears, I’m overwhelmed by their kindness.
My mother used to call me an “emotional creature” and told me to be proud of it. She said a good photographer is open to deep feelings. It lets us feel a person’s story, not just see it.
I embrace my emotions, and Jace knows my heart-touched look, striding my way, pulling me into his arms. It’s been an emotional day for both of us.
“My king?” Delphine sings into our silence.
“Yes, my queen,” Jace answers her, sending reverent shivers down my spine.
