Messari did as he was told, and Morgan looked down at her mess of a shirt. Her hair was disheveled, thrown up in a messy bun, and her shirt was now ruined. The boyfriend jeans she wore had melted stains of ice cream from the twins’ messy hands. It was definitely time to head out. Morgan was exhausted, and they hadn’t even been out that long. Having two babies was a blessing, but they wore Morgan out on a regular basis.

Morgan pushed the stroller through the mall and was halfway to her car when she saw him. In fact, she smelled him first. Ahmeek Harris wore Bond No. 9, and the way it mixed with the scent of his sweat flashed through Morgan’s mind as images of him on top of her body caused her to stop walking abruptly. Her entire body reacted to him. He was across the corridor, but just his presence made Morgan come alive.

An invisible lump in her throat choked her. What was he doing here? With her? Morgan was sick. She stood there frozen in her dirty shirt and raggedy ponytail. She prayed that Meek didn’t see her. The universe wouldn’t be cruel to her that way, but she knew he would turn her way. She knew the magnetic energy that made it impossible to stop looking at him would guide his eyes her way. He stilled on her for three seconds before Morgan turned. She had to get out of there. Away from him. Out of this infected space with this tainted air that made it hard to breathe, but before she could, Yara shot across the hallway that separated them.

Ahmeek turned away from his date and met Yara halfway, scooping her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“That’s my girl,” he said.

Morgan almost hated that her daughter loved this man so much. She was jealous. She wanted to be the one with her arms wrapped around his neck. She knew he smelled like Bond No. 9, and she couldn’t wait to snatch her daughter back because she would undoubtedly smell like him too.

“Who do we have here?”

Morgan’s heart ached when Livi stepped up beside Meek. She was flawless. Redbone, with a blunt-cut bob that was cut to perfection. Livi switched looks like panties, going from long to short hair by the day because she was pretty enough to pull off any style. A midriff off-white T-shirt and denim laced her. Morgan judged every inch of her perfection, from her toes to the top of her head. She rolled her eyes. She didn’t remember this girl being this bad. Their only other encounter, Morgan had such the advantage. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“This the queen of the world,” Ahmeek said. “You can finish looking for the bag you want. Let me handle this. I’ll catch up.”