Page 1 of Three of Hearts

Chapter 1

One Month After RRABF

Quincy

“Niecy… hit submit.”

I saw the hesitation on my wife’s face, the fear of rejection evident in the way her hand lingered over the button on her laptop.

“Maybe we should skip next year. You know, give myself another year to prep and release more work.”

“Stop trying to talk yourself out of this. You belong in that room. I saw how your face lit up the minute we walked in.”

“Yeah, but…”

I grabbed her shoulders, softly kneading away the tension I knew was building there. From the minute I decided Denise was the one, I knew I’d be signing up for a lifetime of offering words of affirmation. Niecy was a magician with her pen, and yet she doubted herself so deeply. It had been like pulling teeth to get her to publish her first book, which, like I knew it would, became a New York Times bestseller. Reading and writing were her entire personality, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Anyone who knew better knew that women who read were the freakiest, nastiest little sluts on the planet, although after five years of marriage, I had only recently discovered just how far that side of her went. Six months ago, she got word of the inaugural Real Readers of Atlanta Book Festival, and instead ofsigning up to participate as an author, she wanted to attend first and meet all her favorite authors.

I wasn’t much of a reader, but of course I read all my wife’s work, and she had manipulated me into “buddy reading” a couple of her favorites, as they called it. She didn’t need to convince me to attend the event, though. I was down to do whatever put a smile on her beautiful face. I was more than happy to be the supportive husband dragging around her Hulken. What I hadn’t expected was to be in a room full of so many beautiful black women who were eye-fucking both me and my wife. The energy was unlike anything I had ever experienced, but I guess that’s what happens when you put a bunch of women who prefer reading porn to watching it in one room. I was one of the very few people in attendance who had a dick, and I had never been more aware of it. Aside from the palpable sexual tension radiating off everyone, the first day had been pretty uneventful for me. I followed Niecy from line to line, meeting all her favorite authors and always hitting my cue whenever it was time to pull out my wallet to pay for whatever she was buying from each table or snap a photo. She, however, was having the time of her life, but I don’t think either of us was prepared for the kind of fun that took place after the event ended.

“You nervous about possibly seeing her again?” I asked, my mind drifting back to that night and realizing that might be another reason for her hesitation.

“Nervous? No. Why would I be nervous?” she replied unconvincingly.

“Because I think… never mind.”

I didn’t want to start a conversation she wasn’t ready to have right before she submitted her application for her own table at next year’s event. I watched her click submit whileI simultaneously purchased our flight tickets and booked our hotel room. We continued our normal night routine: dinner while watching a couple of episodes of Snowfall, showers, and then bed where I devoured my favorite dessert. But both of us felt it. That unspoken yearning for something we had only gotten to sample once. Because Nikki hadn’t left either of our minds.

Chapter 2

One Month Ago-RRABF Weekend 2025

Denise

Itook a seat in the closest chair I could find once we made it to the hotel lobby. My feet were killing me. I blamed my mom for why I wasn’t a sneakers kind of girl. Heels and cute sandals were the only shoes she deemed feminine enough for my sister and me to wear. At the moment, I was saying to hell with femininity. I quickly removed my sandals and rubbed the bottoms of my feet.

“Give me.” Quincy motioned for my foot.

I propped my legs in his lap as his strong hands worked over both feet, making my eyes roll back in relief.

“I told you to pack some comfortable shoes, my baby.”

“These are my comfortable shoes,” I protested.

He shook his head and gave me that million-dollar smile I fell in love with the minute he tried to soften the blow of telling me the repairs on my car would cost more than my rent payment. He was a mechanic when we first met, and had he not been such a fine one, he would’ve gotten the middle finger after telling me the price of the repairs. Lucky for me, he found me just as attractive, so after the hottest, riskiest sex I’d ever had in the garage of that mechanic shop, my car was fixed for free.

I didn’t fuck him for the favor; I was just that attracted to him. The offer to fix it for free didn’t even come until I was aboutto drive away and look for a more affordable option. He swears up and down the only reason he offered to do it was because he wanted to see me again. Though I suspected he felt the need to pay me back for the “bomb pussy” I put on him. His words, not mine.

Either way, that’s how our love story began.

At the time, I was a struggling writer, working random gigs just to pay the bills. He was in the process of opening his own shop. Now, five years later, he had a chain of auto body shops across Detroit and had retired me from those random jobs so I could write full time. Sometimes I missed him coming home in his coveralls, his body painted with random streaks of oil, but he traded those coveralls in for suits, which were just as sexy. I’d always be grateful for him. He was the reason my biggest dream came true. He pushed me to publish my first novel, which ended up becoming a New York Times bestseller. He was everything I could’ve hoped for in a husband. Was our marriage perfect? No. No marriage is. But we loved and supported each other, and we had so much fun together.

“Heyyy girl!”

The voice came from the group of women walking toward us after exiting the elevator. I recognized a couple of their faces from the conversations we’d had while standing in line earlier that day.

“Heyyyyy!” I responded, not really knowing which one of them I was responding to.

“That’s a good man, Savannah.” The closest one to us praised as she pointed toward Q, who was still massaging my feet.