“Shit that took two years?” she asked in disbelief as she spun toward the door. She opened it, and he came behind her and closed it. Apparently, she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Yeah, Mo. The shit took two years. Two long-ass, hard-ass years. I wasn’t out fucking with no hoes. I didn’t move on. Every day I was on my shit, so I could come back for you … so I could get right for you!” he shouted. He was frustrated. She could see it rising in him, and the guilt she felt eroded her as she stood in front of him, half of the woman she had walked in as.

“You’re too late. It’s too late,” she whispered.

“How you let this happen, shorty?” he asked.

Match three, only it was Morgan’s fire that came alive.

“How did I let it happen? No, nigga, how did you let it happen?” she shouted as she pushed him. She opened one palm and slapped her other hand inside it as she spoke. “Bash was there for me, Messiah. He ain’t the best man. He has his ways, but he was consistent!”

“Bash.” Messiah scoffed and shook his head. “Fucking corny-ass college boy?”