The diner bustles with activities as I make my way into the farthest corner away from the door. I sight Clarissa behind the counter, hair pulled tight into a sleek bun with her lips moving rapidly as she attends to a customer. The smell of pastries, plus the aroma of freshly made coffee and the noise of the diners have my nostrils flaring in delight. I tip my hat and inhale the air of deliciousness, a feeling of nostalgia creeping up on me.

Settling into the only unoccupied booth, I cast one look out the window where people mill around in groups of twos and threes. Our school is a few minutes walk from here. My eyes narrow in on my car; my baby looking out of place in that spot between smaller cars. It still feels odd, almost surreal to know I have one. My fingers splay on the window, something warm stirs in my chest, I can't wait for our second ride as a couple.

A kid falls off his bicycle, his mum squats to help him up and he swats her hand. The pity rising to the surface dies at his action, a scowl forms on my face and the corners of my lips twitch. Her morose expression shows she is used to him rejecting her help and the subtle swiping of a finger across her cheek has my heart clenching. I saw the traitorous tear she was quick to wipe off, the smile she plasters on her lips as her son starts riding is easily identifiable as fake. My chest tightens, it bothers me and I don't know why.

I don't want a world where any of my kids refuse my help. Mothers know best, they are kids greatest allies, fathers too. Pa took me to my first dance, my driving classes started with him. His quiet presence, unsolicited advise with Ma's boisterous attitude are the perfect combination to make a marriage work. Or not. I chuckle. Brandon and I are far different from them but we make it work in our weird, crazy way. I love that man.

The woman's head raises, her eyes jerk in my direction, I avert my gaze and rest my hands on my legs, feeling guilty for staring too long. Damn this two-way glasses. I rub my belly through my blouse, a sigh escapes me. Brandon might have been on the right track in trying to discourage me from having kids, I don't want a baby until I have my degree but he went about it the wrong way. Children are gifts from God; little blessings.

My attention returns to the counter, where Clarissa hands a takeout to a customer with a smile. A smile that will vanish once she sees me. On cue, her head turns briefly in my direction and our gazes clash. I pull the hat over my eyes but she must have recognised me because her gaze returns slowly to my face, threatening to bore a hole into me.

Her frown confirms my suspicion, the smile I throw her way freezes under her withering gaze. I swallow. Okay. She is royally pissed. It will take more than a car ride to earn her forgiveness. But she should try and understand, I had my reasons.

"Hi." I jump in my seat and let out a small yelp at the sound of the voice. Faint laughter reaches my ear, my eyes fleet to Clarissa staring straight ahead, the cackle sounded like her. She is capable of laughing at my expense. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

My lips curl into a smile as my head turns to the owner of the voice, I nod. "It's alright."

The teen waitress smile matches mine, she pulls out the menu from the pocket of her pink apron and I stifle a chuckle. She must be new. All the items on that menu sit rent-free in my head. Having a bestie who works at a diner with a loveable boss has its perks.

"Can I order later?" My head tilts to one side to get a better view of the name on her tag. "Tabitha." She looks unsure but agrees to my request. I stop her from leaving to roll a twenty-pound bill between my fingers, her eyes widen and the business side of me takes over. "Are you in the mood to make twenty pounds?" Her mouth opens and closes, I take that as my cue to continue, "If you can get Clarissa to my table, it's all yours."

"No way."

"Yes way."

Sifting through my purse, I bring out a ten-pound note, use my phone to cover the face of the queen. Her brows crease with her eyes trained on the money. I can imagine the wheel rotating in her head, it is not a huge sum to someone like Brandon and maybe me by the virtue of my black card and marriage to him. But it looks like it might be to her.

"Down payment," I say and slide the ten-pound bill her way, "you will get the rest as soon as she joins me."

Tabitha's eyes round to saucers, she flashes me a grin that almost has me paying her off. The money disappears into her pocket, her red curls bounce as she hops to the counter.

A small smile forms on my lips as I watch Tabitha and Clarissa exchange words in low tunes. Her eyes narrow to slits, her lips pull into a thin line as Tabitha continues talking but she doesn't look my way. That stance means she won't budge but I hang on to the tiny glimmer of hope as the head of the tenacious teenager bobs and her hands' flail. The conversation would have ended as soon as it started if I had so much as dared to approach her. She barely gets upset but when she does, you have to watch out.

The male who enters the diner is redirected to another barista by Tabitha, I sink my teeth into my lip, shoulders slumped as I try to calm my racing heart. She won't budge.

Tabitha makes for my booth, I straighten up at her weak smile. "I'm sorry, she said no." I shake my head to stop her from returning the ten-pound note, instead, I top it up with the initial twenty-pound bill. Her eyes water, the quivering of her lips stops her from forming a coherent sentence. "T... thank you so much. Th... t... t... t... t... thank you. Thank you."

Waving off her gratitude, the heaviness in my chest dissipates at her bright smile and I place my hand on my breast at the warmth that radiates through me. At that moment, I have an inkling what Brandon felt after tipping Anaïs, the waitress in France.

Giving is nice, giving someone you don't know and might never repay you is better, the best feeling in the world. Second to hearing Brandon admit he cherishes me.

All traces of happiness vanish when my gaze clashes with Clarissa, I look away from the betrayal written all over her face. Questions I don't want to answer float through my mind, I let out a soft sigh. How will I feel if she doesn't tell me about her wedding? If I find out by mistake, maybe through someone else?

The questions drive a blunt dagger through my heart, squeeze it slowly and I sniff. My foot stumps gently into the ground, my eyes lower to my laps. I did her dirty, too dirty, the least I can do is let her be. But it has gone on for too long, it's past a week now.

Someone plonks into my seat, the hat on my head disappears, my speech dies in my throat and a smile takes over my lips when my head jerks in the direction of the pest.

"Hey, you."

There's something about Joshua, this bright light and happiness he exudes. On some days when I don't want to smile or the world seems dreary, he knows the lamest things to say. To get me to laugh. The initial surprise at seeing him here fades when he pulls me in for a brief hug I gladly reciprocate. When we pull away, he tips his-my hat and I burst into laughter, letting thoughts of my betrayal to my best friend take a backseat.

"Hey yourself," I mutter, my eyes scan his outfit. With the hat and skinny jeans paired with a denim jacket, he can pass off as a modern-day cowboy. "It's good to see you."

Josh flips his short, brown hair, I chuckle and show him how it's done by flipping the ends of my cornrows which swipe across his cheeks. He scoffs, I roll my eyes and snatch my hat to place on the table. His tattooed knuckles come into view as his fingers circle the hat, I squint at the Roman numerals written in black ink decorating his hand.

I don't understand the concept of tattoos, the long hours of torture you need to endure to get it. The knuckles tattoos are one of the most painful, almost too painful, the palms too, at least that's what Josh said. But he loves the pain. He claims to have more tattoos in places I can't see. In the past, I might have been eager to find them out, not anymore.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asks. "We were supposed to meet." I nod, but not today. Massaging my ring finger, I mutter a reply that has his head bobbing. "How's home?"

I cringe at the reminder of my white lie, he got the same story as Clarissa. Slipping the gold band out of my fourth finger before he will notice, I reply, "Fine. How are you?"

"Good. What kept you busy on Tuesday?" Josh asks.

"Chores," I say with a laugh.

It's the way he says it, his accent seeps into his words, makes it come off as Chewsday. My hand goes over my mouth to muffle my laughter, his brow arches and his hazel eyes tinged with gold flecks rake over me. The distance between us gives me a chance to analyse his features all over again, my head falls to one side as I drink in the sight of him.

He runs his fingers through his brown hair which falls over his forehead at intervals and I chuckle, he never uses gel, he likes his hair untamed. His lips are surprisingly full, pink and pouty, just like Brandon's. At the thought of him, I let out a sigh, stopping myself from further comparing him with my dark chocolate loving husband. It's a new habit I formed subconsciously, sometimes, it's the look or the attitude I compare when I see pictures and videos of other men. In the end, Brandon always wins. He's the best for me.

The gold of Josh's eyes gleam with mischief when he flicks a finger over my nose and my lips pucker. Once upon a time, I used to have a crush on him. While Joshua is boyishly handsome, cute, Brandon takes the crown. He is ruggedly handsome with eyes that see you, the layers you might try to cover up with words, I love and hate it sometimes.

My eyes lower briefly to my hand on my legs and I trace lines on my ring finger, already missing the feel of the cold metal. I slip off the necklace from my neck, the half heart pendant can be spotted from a mile radius. Thankfully, Josh hasn't noticed, I can't have two of my closest friends upset with me. Though I planned to inform him about my marital status later, I am relieved to see him here. I will put the jewelleries on after this.

"Have you spoken to Clarissa?"

"No," I say while shaking my head, "she is still mad at me." On cue, my eyes dart to her, my chest deflates and I place my purse inside my bag. "She won't even talk to me."

I stiffen when he covers my hands with his as a way of reassuring me, a grim smile plasters on my face when I look his way. I have always been okay with him doing that but I am married now. Things are different. What extent of touching is allowed with male friends? I am not sure I have the answer to that but I know I don't want another woman touching Brandon in this manner. With that in mind, I pull away from his grasp.

"Josh," I breathe out. One of his thick brows shoots up, the action reminding me all too much about a certain man plaguing my thoughts. My eyes dart to my phone, he hasn't replied my text. He will be in for a shock when he sees Josh, I giggle, I can't wait to see his face. "I have to tell you something, okay?" The urgency in my voice must have gotten to him because he nods without questions. "It's the reason Clarissa won't talk to me."

Understanding flashes in his eyes, he chuckles but it lacks mirth. "Since we are confessing, I also have something to tell you." I grimace. "But tell me, ladies first."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lick my lips and twiddle my fingers. My mouth parts open, Josh lets out a groan, his hands' circle mine and uncertainty fleets across his face.

"Hold on." He shuffles closer to me, the space between us almost inexistent and I find myself placing my bag in the centre to create a gap but he returns it to the table with a forced smile. His voice lowers to a whisper, "You remember when we were fake dating?" I nod, my heart skips a beat, I promised to repay the favour. "Can we do that now?"

Without notice, he strokes a side of my face like we are a real couple on a date and the corners of his lips turn upwards in a smile. My heart skips several beats, a frown takes over my face as I gently tear his hand away from my cheek with barely concealed anger. I don't like him touching me anymore. I don't want any man but Brandon touching me. The plea in his eyes causes my shoulders to sag, a sigh leaves me. I haven't even heard him out.

"What's going on?" I ask. He rubs his hands over his knees, I gulp. "Who are we scaring?"

Seeing him upset unsettles me, he is quite good at masking his fears behind his jokes and positive vibes. But his evident discomfort has my teeth sinking into my lip, I don't like this one bit. I came here for Clarissa, for her to see my husband, not this drama.

"I'll explain later. Please. Don't look," he adds when I make to turn in the direction his eyes dart to at intervals. "Laugh. Pretend I said something funny. Laugh." My head falls back with laughter, I place a hand over my chest, internally cringing at the hollow sound coming out from me. His shoulders relax, he offers me a small smile. "She's gone."

"Who?"

Lines appear on his forehead. "Tamara." I can't resist the urge to slap his forearm with a scowl, I told him she was trouble the moment he told me he liked her but he still chose to lay between her legs. "She keeps following me everywhere." When my brows raise, he lets out a laugh, I roll my eyes, I should have let her come for his ass. "I'm not her lover."

"That's not what you said when you wanted to get laid-"

"You have the most beautiful eyes, El."

His solemn declaration catches me off guard, our gazes meet, his eyes seem to pull me into a trance and my thought fades to the back of my mind. I blink twice, Brandon's words replay in my mind. Maybe he was right about Josh wanting something more than friendship, I don't know much about the male folks. I lick my lip, Josh's eyes follow the movement and fear trickles down my spine as my hand reaches out to grab my things.

Time to leave.

"Thank you." I stand abruptly, he mimics the move, towering over me with his height and I swallow. We are in a public place, he won't try anything funny but as we stare at each other, I can't push down the voice in my head crying out for me to leave. Now. "I-"

For the second time this evening, he cuts me off again. But with his lips on mine.

I freeze.

Joshua is kissing me. He is kissing me, Elna Amahle Stark, a married woman.

Brandon was right.

The thought of my husband lends my hands strength to push Joshua away but I am not strong enough for him. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him, I remain in his embrace, frozen with the shock of his lips moving over mine, refusing to take my unresponsiveness as a hint to stop. My chest tightens, I need him to stop. Now.

A faint gasp behind him finally sends a strong signal to my brain, I shove Joshua with Samson like strength and he staggers backwards, creating enough distance between us. Good for him or I might have done something crazy. I close my eyes briefly to keep the tears at bay and shake my head to stop him from offering me any form of explanation.

I don't need it.

My gaze lands on a flushed Clarissa who gawks at me like I committed a grave crime, maybe I did. I offer her a shaky smile and snatch my handbag and hat from the table, grateful for her presence. This madness might have continued if she hadn't come.

She blinks, her mouth opens but no words come out. Her eyes dart to the left, I follow the direction and my knees grow weak at the sight of Brandon. I take a step towards him but the emptiness in his eyes stop my feet. It's not his presence that frightens me but the way he eyes me before his lips curl into a smile like he expected this of me.

Clarissa clears her throat, Josh calls out my name and I bite the insides of my lip to stop from strangling him, he is the least of my problem right now. The man avoiding my gaze is all I care about right now, my husband. If he saw us, he shouldn't be upset, I was rigid.

"Baby," I hear myself saying, inching towards him but his gaze wanders to something else, more like, someone else. I don't care, I wrap my arms around his waist. "Brandon."

"Thank you, Clarissa," Brandon starts, refusing to return my hug. "You can go now."

With my hands still on his waist, I peek at his face. "Baby, it's me. Let's talk outside."

Everyone fades, my eyes are solely on Brandon who doesn't think me worthy of his attention. My fingers weave into his scalp, I tug on his hair but he remains calm, staring straight ahead and my hands fall to my sides. I take one step away from him to see the object of interest keeping his gaze captive and my shoulders sag when I find out it's Joshua.

In a voice lacking warmth, he says, "Hello brother."

My blood runs cold, my eyes finally land on Josh who has trouble masking his emotions. The corners of his eyes twitch, he bridges the gap between them and I gulp, eyes darting to the counter where Clarissa retired to. She offers me a small smile, my gaze returns to them. The two men with no love lost between them.

Hate sizzles in the air, Josh takes a step back. "Good to see you too, Brandon."