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Michaels.”
    The camera cut to Maurice asking Lauryn to marry him. Kenya snapped the TV off. “High-school sweetheart?” she said to the walls. “Somebody needs to get their facts straight.”
    In the silence of the night, when Kenya’s bed was really cold and lonely, she’d think of Maurice. What would have been if there had never been a Lauryn? Would she have been on the other end of that proposal? After nine years, she’d hoped to be over him, but every man she met, she compared to Maurice, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
    When Maurice was drafted by the Dallas Cowboys a few years back, Kenya had wanted to call and congratulate him. Dallas had always been their favorite team. But she hadn’t reached out to him. There was no need for him to know that she still cared.
    After he was injured during his fourth game of his rookie season, Kenya had wanted to send flowers or a get-well card, but she didn’t. Part of her had hoped his career would be over, because she knew that he loved football more than anything else.
    She hated it when her mind was filled with “what-ifs.” Kenya knew that she couldn’t change the past any more than she could predict the future. Maurice was the past, and according to ESPN, his future was with Lauryn. Why did it bother her so much that the sportscaster had called Lauryn Maurice’s high-school sweetheart? That was her title, though it didn’t amount to a hill of beans. She was the one who had ended up holding on to her love for him while he’d ridden off into the sunset, with Lauryn Michaels by his side.
    Instead of sitting in the house and feeling sorry for herself, Kenya called her best friend and old roommate, Imani, who’d just moved to Atlanta with her husband.
    â€œImani, it’s Kenya.”
    â€œWhat’s up, girl?” Imani said.
    â€œDo you feel like heading downtown? Let me introduce you to Atlanta.”
    Imani laughed. “I wish I could, but Roland and I are going to a jazz concert at the Foxy.”
    â€œThe Fox, you mean. Sounds like fun,” Kenya said, trying to mask her disappointment.
    â€œWant to come with? I’m sure Roland wouldn’t mind.”
    â€œAnd be a third wheel? I don’t think so.”
    In the background, she could hear Imani’s husband, Roland, ask, “Didn’t you go to school with Mo Goings?”
    Kenya cringed inwardly at the sound of Maurice’s name. “I’d better let you go,” she said.
    â€œKenya,” Imani said, “you saw SportsCenter, didn’t you?”
    â€œGirl, please. So what if I did? That was over years ago. I’m just surprised Maurice didn’t trade her in.”
    â€œYou still have feelings for him, don’t you? Don’t say you don’t, because I can hear it in your voice.”
    â€œYou and your husband had better get going if you want to find parking downtown,” Kenya said. “Maybe we can have lunch tomorrow. Oh shoot, I’m in mediation in the morning.”
    â€œI can’t believe you, Kenya Taylor. You’re still in love with Maurice, and you know that he is a lying, dirty, trifling dog.”
    â€œI know who and what he is. Just hearing that those two are still together . . . and they called her his high-school sweetheart. It got to me a little bit.”
    â€œBabe, ticktock,” Kenya heard Roland say.
    â€œI have to go,” Imani said. “But I’ll call you when I get back.”
    â€œHave fun with your man, and don’t worry about me,” Kenya replied. “I’ll be fine.”
    After hanging up the phone, Kenya picked up the Dr. Phil book again and started reading. Maybe there was something hidden in the pages of the book that could help her get Maurice out of her heart.
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    Monday morning, Maurice should have been sleeping in, or if he had to be up, he should’ve been soaking his sore muscles in a whirlpool. Instead, he