She looks at me, her brow knit in confusion. “Yeah, why would you ask that?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense.”
Her mouth gapes open.
Unable to hold back, I continue with, “Samantha, I know I might be just another dumb stripper to you, but you’re playing with more than just my life here. What did Natasha and Bianca ever do to deserve the hell you put them through?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You think I don’t know you asked for Slay to dance at Bianca’s party? And let’s not forget why Bianca broke off her engagement. And not to be outdone, you turned Slay brown.”
She snickers. “Is that why you’ve been acting so differently around me?”
That she doesn’t deny the accusations all but confirms my worry. She’s not interested in a relationship. Not a real one.
“We need to talk about the baby situation,” I say firmly.
“What would you like to talk about?”
Deciding not to broach the subject of paternity, I say, “How much you’re going to fight me when it comes to visitation? How much of a say I’ll have in their life? How?—”
“You can stop there. I’ve already told you I want you in our baby’s life. I want that just as badly as you do.”
“Except there’s always a motive with you.”
Samantha looks anguished by my jab. I want to scoop her into my arms and apologize, but I can’t. I’m just now seeing her for who she truly is. Nothing she says or does is real. She doesn’t care who she hurts or what the fallout of her actions will be.
She only cares about herself.
“Toxic,” she says softly. “I think you should leave.”
I get up from my seat and give her one last long, sorrowful look before exiting the room, my heart so full of pain I can hardly breathe.
It had to be done.
But what if I’m wrong about her? What if there’s a reason for all the shit she’s put people through?
As much as I long to believe that, I know Bianca and Natasha, and they’d never do anything to warrant such scorn. As much as I’d love for Samantha to be the woman I thought she was.
She’s something else.
TWENTY-NINE
Samantha
To think,for one divine moment, I thought things were going to turn out okay. I allowed myself to believe in love, and that for once, I wouldn’t be abandoned.
But Toxic saw in me what everyone eventually sees, it just took him longer.
I wasn’t born this way, and I hate what I’ve become. The ugliness inside me bloomed over time, transforming me into a monster.
And now, everything’s been taken from me, and I can only blame myself.
I exit the car my father sent for me and stand in front of a house I’ve never seen before. It’s a fraction of the size of my father’s, but the neighborhood is affluent, which means it probably belongs to someone who works for him. Someone meant to mediate this interaction.
As I go to knock on the door, I noticed it’s already cracked open. Seeing no reason to be shy, I walk straight in.
The house has an open floor plan, and off to the left, there’s a dining room table. My father is in front of it, leaning against the edge, his arms crossed over his chest.
