“Yeah.”
“You having second thoughts?” His tone was serious.
“No. I’m just wondering why nothing can ever be easy for me. All my life, it’s seemed like anything I didn’t care about came easily and anything I really wanted, I had to give blood, sweat, and tears. One thing I’ve always wanted in life is to be a mother.It’s frustrating that I can’t just do it the normal way. I don’t get to meet a man, fall for him, give him the ass without protection, and get pregnant. Nah, I gotta find the sperm, find the doctor, take the medicine, do the retrieval, and all of the other stuff.”
“I know it’s disappointing. You want me to come through? Take you to get ice cream? Or cupcakes?”
“Ice cream?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Ice cream always made Adrianna feel better. Thought maybe it was a femininity thing.”
“Hey, are you sure you don’t feel a way about doing this with me and not Adrianna? Y’all were together so long, Brix. I’m sure you guys talked about kids.”
“We did.”
“Is it a let-down to be doing this with me and not her?”
After a beat or so, he spoke. “It’s a privilege to be doing it with you, Ry. I’m flattered that you even considered me.”
“Shut up! You already know that I think you’re handsome. Plus, you’re kind, patient, smart, and generous. How many times am I gonna have to blow your ego up?”
He waved me off with a snicker. “Nah, I wouldn’t put Adrianna in your shoes even if I could. I’m doing this with the person that I’m supposed to be doing it with. I have a good feeling about this. And with your family genes and my family genes, this baby is about to be a basketball beast.”
I couldn’t help dissolving into giggles. “Ice cream sounds good. But it’s getting late. You need to get your rest. You have practice in the morning.”
He sighed. “Damn. I’m never gonna be able to make a move without you knowing what’s up, huh? The downside of being connected to CJ’s personal manager. We have the same schedule.”
“Yep.”
“I’mma listen to you, though, and get some sleep. Something tells me that we’re about to be on a wild ass ride and we’re gonna need all the rest we can get. You ready?”
Neither Brixton nor I said a word as I pulled up my shirt and exposed my stomach. I was on the one shot a day protocol. Brixton and I had already decided that when he was available, he would do my shot for me. I wasn’t sure how that was going to work. My doctor wanted me to take the shots at the same time every day, and Brixton’s schedule was unpredictable. But whenever he was available, I would let him do the shots. It made him feel like part of the process, and I wanted that for him.
When the needle was ready, Brixton went down on his knees in front of me. I swabbed the area with alcohol, then pinched some of my stomach chub. The needle was thin, but what was it about thin needles that they tended to hurt so much? Once the medicine was injected, Brixton leaned in and kissed the spot. My breath caught in my throat in an audible gasp.
“Grab your shoes and your purse. We’re about to go eat.”
“Go eat?” I repeated.
“Yeah, Ry. I watched Genesis go through this process. It’s not easy, and after a while, the hormones in the injections are gonna have you wilding.” He laughed and shook his head at what I presumed was a memory of Genesis acting out. “You don’t need to be on your feet in front of no stove. You deserve to be pampered. I set something up.”
“But you have a game tomorrow, Brix. You need your rest. It’s”—I quickly checked my watch—“almost seven.”
“A few hours won’t hurt me, lil mama. I’m thirty-three, not sixty-three. Besides, I’ll catch a nap after the shoot around tomorrow.” I was still hesitant. “Rowdy Ry.”
“Huh?” I looked up at him.
“Let me feed you.”
His eyes were so soft that I couldn’t deny him. “Okay.”
What Brixton had set up was the two of us being whisked away in his navy blue luxury truck to Heirloom Soul. It was the most talked about restaurant in the city by black folks who couldn’t get enough of the upscale atmosphere and mouthwatering Caribbean/soul food fusion cuisine. With his hand resting easily on my lower back, he led us through a side door, where we were met by a smiling young lady.
“Welcome to Heirloom Soul, Mr. Cole. We’ve been awaiting your arrival.” Her Jamaican accent immediately put me at ease, as did the aromas floating around us.
“Hey, how’re you doing?” Brixton returned her greeting.
“Great. Please follow me.”
