Free Millionaire Wives Club by Tu-Shonda Whitaker

him.
    “It’s Idris.” He pointed to himself.
    “I know who you are.”
    “Well, since you know who I am”—he looked her over—“can I get a hug?” he asked and pulled her to him before she could refuse. As Chaunci pressed up against his chest she could tell by the way he squeezed her and began to rock with her that she felt good in his arms.
    “Wow, you’re still beautiful.” He stood back and looked at her. “Damn,” he said more to himself than to her. “You really are breathtaking.”
    “Are you done?” She pointed across the room. “Because this conversation you’re trying to have with me, I’m over it and I need to leave.”
    He looked at her strangely. “That’s the nicest greeting you could think of after seven years?”
    Chaunci paused and blinked. It was official this motherfucker was still bold and crazy, but she had something for his ass. She popped her clutch purse open. “My apologies, perhaps I should’ve greeted you with this.” She slapped three hundred-dollar bills in his hand. “Now bug the fuck off.” She turned to walk away, but before she could go too far, Idris grabbed her arm and turned her back to him.
    “Wait a minute, wait,” he said.
    “I’m supposed to wait for you again?”
    Instead of letting her go, Idris pulled Chaunci to a secluded corner of the room. “What exactly are you saying by giving me this money?” He paused. “Did you have that baby? You took my money and still did what you wanted to do?”
    Every tear that Chaunci thought she’d cried out years ago filled her eyes, but she’d be damned before she let him see her cry. “Listen,” she said, doing her best to sound beyond confident, “beforeI take my fist and fuck yo’ big ass up, I’ma walk away from you.”
    He blocked her path. “Chaunci, I don’t believe this.”
    “Well, believe this. Fuck you.” She turned to walk away again and he immediately turned her back around.
    “Look, I’m sorry. I messed up, I know,” he said, “and the truth is I always wondered over the years.” He stopped and shook his head as if he’d just been hit with a ton of bricks. “Listen, I need you to understand that I was a kid then.”
    “And I need you to understand colic, motherfucker. And fevers, and teething, and crawling, and potty training, and school, and parent-teacher conferences and shit.” She poked him in his chest. “And I need you to understand how I stayed up at night and took care of our daughter while she was sick. Me, not you. And now that she’s old enough to realize she has a daddy, she spends her days dreaming about your ass, thinking you are Mr. Fuckin’ Mighty Man, while I’m stuck trying to explain where the hell you’ve been all these years.”
    “I didn’t know.”
    “You didn’t want to know.”
    “Chaunci, be fair here. I really need you to understand—”
    “Okay, and I really need you to understand this: Get the fuck out of my face.” She grabbed a drink from the butler’s tray and walked over to where Milan, Jaise, and a few others were sipping champagne and enjoying the jazz band.
    “Hey, girl. We need to talk,” Chaunci said, kissing Milan on both cheeks. She nodded her head at Jaise and waved.
    “Hi,” Jaise said dryly as she eyed the room. “I’ll be back.”
    Chaunci rolled her eyes as Jaise walked away. She looked at Milan. “Give me a moment, I need another drink.”
    As the songstress sang Phyllis Hyman’s “Meet Me on the Moon,” Milan sipped her white wine and drifted into a daydream.
    “If I asked you to go with me to the moon, would you?” a voice whispered, interrupting her deep thoughts. “Or am I too late?”
    Milan held her breath for a moment. She knew it was Kendu. Slowly she turned around and he was standing there. He was exquisitely beautiful, and her only regret was that he was somebody else’s husband and not hers. She did her best to smile, after all, technically he wasn’t the only one who was married. “I try not to