Perched delicately on the edge of the steel, ladder-back chair, Pressley Hamilton let her gaze sweep over the man seated before her at the back of the bustling coffee shop. To the untrained eye, she was the perfect picture of inner peace and effortless grace. In truth, a storm was brewing inside her--the negative emotions zipping around in her chest like firecrackers on the Fourth of July as her stomach bubbled and fizzed with unease.

No one had said that heartbreak would feel like this--like a million and one needles stabbing at her chest all at once. Or that her lungs would feel too heavy and weak to even gasp for the teensiest bit of air. With every word he had spoken, Pressley had felt her heart crumble and break. But of course, Terrell was none the wiser, courtesy of the cool mask of nonchalance Pressley had erected the moment he’d sat her down at the small table in the back.

“I’ve met someone else,” Terrell had said, shooting her a pitying smile. He’d then reached his hand out between them and placed it over her clenched fist, ignoring the withering stare she’d been shooting him. “But I want you to know that you did nothing wrong.”

She wanted to bash his face in.

Five years she’d wasted on this sorry ass negro, with his lack of ambition and unwavering complacency. When they’d met, he’d been in his last year of business school while she’d just entered her first semester. Now she was two years out with an MBA and her own business--the coffee shop he was so tastelessly dumping her in--while he was still ‘finishing’ his last couple of classes while she supported the two of them financially.

In all actuality, she hadn’t really minded supporting them both. In fact, up until 8:30 a.m. when the unfortunate morning had begun, Pressley Hamilton had wholeheartedly subscribed to the belief that one only got out of a relationship what they were willing to put in. You reap what you sow, and all that junk.

If she wanted the undying love, support, and commitment from Terrell, then she too had to provide unwavering support and affection. Sure it wasn’t easy, but nothing in life was and that was okay because she loved Terrell. And he loved her too..up until an hour ago.

Letting her eyes roam over his smooth caramel skin, loose 3B curls, and plump lips, she couldn’t help but wonder how she had allowed herself to be used for so long.   

In typical Terrell fashion, Pressley’s ex soldiered on, choosing to continue his unremarkable breakup speech despite the anger growing and bubbling inside Pressley as she glowered at him from across the table

“I want us to still be friends though, P,” he said earnestly, his ochre-colored eyes softly boring into hers. His hand gave her another reassuring squeeze. “You’ve been great but Melody--”

Pressley reared her head back, as though Terrell had suddenly reached out and slapped across the face.

Well, at least that’s how it felt.

Pushing away from the table, she quickly scrambled to her feet, ignoring the loud groans of the metal chair as it slid unevenly against the tiled floors. An accusatory finger found its way into Terrell’s face as Pressley ignored the urge to end his life for the second time that morning.

“You’re leaving me for my cousin?!” she screeched incredulously, her ample bosom heaving with the heavy breaths of her barely-contained rage.

Terrell let out a nervous chuckle as his eyes flitted across the faces of the startled patrons inside Morning Brew. “Step-cousin,” he clarified. “And it’s not like we planned for this to happen. We just...fell in love,” he finished with a brilliant smile.

Pressley felt her stomach lurch as the taste of bile settled on her tongue.

“How long have you been fucking her?” she bit out, attempting to reign in her anger so she didn’t scare any more paying customers.

Terrell had the decency to look shocked at the accusation as his mouth flapped open and closed like fish gasping for water. His smooth caramel skin flushed bright red before he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Pressley, I would never--”

“Save it,” she said, lifting a hand and cutting him off for the second time that day. “Let’s not pretend like you haven’t been fucking my cousin for god-knows-how-long while I’ve been breaking my neck to keep a roof over our heads,” she hissed.

Terrell opened his mouth again to refute her but something in Pressley’s eyes must have suggested otherwise, and he quickly shut it.

“If you want to be with Melody, I’m not going to stop you. But don’t come crawling back to me when she realizes just how useless you are. You have twenty-four hours to get your shit out of my apartment before I change the locks,” she finished before whirling around on her heels and stalking back to the front of the shop.

The sensation of a hand wrapping around her bicep stopped her in her tracks as Terrell forcefully yanked her back around to face him.

His face was red again, this time with anger, as he attempted to lay into Pressley. “Who are you calling useless? I’ve supported your ungrateful ass for the past five years while you chased your dream of opening this damn coffee shop!” he fumed, his light eyes gleaming with baseless anger.

In that the moment, Pressley Hamilton had never been happier to know that she’d been cheated on. Sure it hurt to be betrayed by two people so close to her, but as she looked at her now ex-boyfriend, she realized how much she was actually gaining by things ending between her and Terrell; things like her freedom, her sanity, and her future, now untethered to the sinking ship that was Terrell Johnson.

Prying his fingers from her arm, Pressley took a step closer to him to make sure no one else would hear what she had to say. “You didn’t give me a red cent, Terrell. The only support you gave me was crap sex and--as of five minutes ago--the ability to see you for who you really are. Now leave before you embarrass yourself.” With that, Pressley turned back around and continued her way back to the front counter to attend to the next waiting customer.

It wasn’t until Terrell finally tore his infuriated glare from the side of her face and stomped out of the coffee shop that she finally released the breath she hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding.

-O-

Twirling the phone cord around her finger, Pressley listened as her mother and sister prattled off the reasons why she was better off without that ‘no-good, unmannered, freeloader’--Carol Hamilton’s words, not Pressley’s.

When Moira, her manager, had sauntered into her office at noon to inform her about the phone call waiting on her up front, she’d expected it to be one of her numerous suppliers calling her to give her news of her next shipment of coffee beans. It was reasonable enough, then for Pressley to be quite surprised to instead find herself the unsuspecting victim of a 3-way phone call ambush.

Gosh if she didn’t feel like Cady Heron right now as her mother (aka Gretchen Wieners) and her sister (Karen Smith) listed off all the reasons why she’d been foolish to stay in her former relationship.

Word traveled too fast in this town.

“What kind of a man just lets his girlfriend--not even his fiance, though I really doubt he could’ve even afforded a ring if it didn’t come outta’ one of them cereal boxes--take care of him for five years without even trying to make something of himself? Huh?” Carol Hamilton spat, followed by an “mhm” from Pressley’s sister Ruby. “A no good bottom-feeder, that’s who! I tell you, Pressley Anne, I don’t know why I let you stay with that man--”

“Mama!” Pressley finally bit out, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. Her mother and sister had been laying into her for fifteen minutes now and she had finally reached her breaking point. “I understand what you’re saying--I do--but as I said, there’s nothing I can do about it now except try to move on with my life. Terrell sure as hell is.”

It was true. While Pressley had immediately blocked her ex-boyfriend on all social media accounts, she had decided to remained friends with and follow her traitorous cousin Melody. A mere hour after Terrell had stormed out of her coffee shop, Melody had changed her status to ‘in a relationship’ on all her accounts as well as changed her profile picture to a nauseating image of herself and Terrell engaged in a fierce liplock.

If Pressley was being honest with herself, the brazen display of affection had felt like a sucker punch to the gut and made tears cloud her vision. How could it not? Even if she wasn’t all that close to Melody, she was still family. What they’d done was wrong--plain and simple--and Pressley deserved to be just as hurt and angry as she wanted to be.

But she also had a business to run, and Pressley Anne Hamilton would be damned if she let that hussy and her newly acquired fuckboy mess that up for her. Which why after crying it out for a couple of minutes, Pressley had dabbed her tears away, swiped on another coat of mascara, and gotten back to work--until her mother called, that is.

“Say the word Annie, and I can come pick you up and we can pay Melody a nice little visit. I’ve still got my conceal-carry,” Ruby said, her voice low and sinister.

Pressley choked on her breath. “Ruby no!” she shouted into the phone. Glancing around, she caught the eyes of several startled patrons as they waited to place their orders at the til. Shooting a quick, apologetic smile, Pressley whirled around and brought the receiver closer to her lips.

“We are not shooting anyone, Ruby,” Pressley hissed. “Look, what Melody wants to do is her prerogative, but we are not starting World War III over Terrell’s dumb ass.” She paused. “Wait, I thought they revoked your permit after you tried to shoot your neighbor last year?”

Pressley listened as Ruby sucked her teeth. “Me and Mrs. Henderson came to an...understanding about that and she dropped the charges.”

Pressley shook her head. She didn’t even want to know what that meant. “Whatever, just promise me...no guns.”

Carol laughed as Ruby sucked her teeth again. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Thank you,” Pressly breathed into the phone, thankful she’d managed to pacify her bloodthirsty younger sister. “Things are getting a little busy here at the shop so I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

She was met with grumbles of “yeah you better” and “sure thing” before ending the phone call. Pressley hung the phone back on the hook before turning back around to head to her office and finish up some paperwork.

Weaving in between the patrons, Pressley didn’t realize her misstep until it was too late. Slipping on the wet surface of the checkered tiling--courtesy of the hot coffee that had just been spilled moments prior--Pressley found herself advancing towards the hard ground at an alarming speed. Before her face could get acquainted with the lovely linoleum flooring, however, Pressley felt herself being lifted and slammed back against a hard, firm chest.

“You alright there, darlin’?” a deep voice rumbled above her.

Pressley fought back the urge to moan as she felt the stranger’s deep timbre vibrate against her back through the fabric of her yellow, cotton sundress.

Like warm chocolate, the stranger’s voice poured over Pressley in a way that had her squeezing her too-thick thighs together beneath the wide skirt of her dress. Her toes curled inside her nude pumps and she fought back the urge to moan out loud.

Get it together, you wanton hussy, she thought to herself.

Quickly composing herself, Pressley smoothed down the imaginary wrinkles in her dress before opening her mouth and turning to offer her words of gratitude to the kind stranger for rescuing her from a most unfortunate and mortifying social demise. All the words she had planned to say soon escaped her, however, as her eyes landed on the Goliath that stood before her. Eyes widening in recognition, Pressley felt her mouth dry up faster than the Sahara as she gazed, flabbergasted, at one Ryan Andrew Morris.

Clear blue eyes gleamed as his full lips spread wide into a shit-eating grin. “Fancy seeing you here,” he drawled.