“Whew!” she breathed out. “Now that shit was hilarious. Now seriously, Gagey Pooh, tell me what’s going on.” She smiled, looking off-kilter as hell. “Come on, baby, tell me. I won’t be mad.”
My eyes widened as she slid the desk clear across the room, showing a strength, I didn’t know her little ass had. Every step she took toward me, I took three back.God, please don’t let me have to knock this girl out,I silently prayed.
“Paris, Mahasin, and I had a one-night stand months ago. We haven’t had communication since. She discovered she’s four months pregnant, and DNA results prove that I am the father,” I rushed out. I wasn’t ashamed of Mahasin or my daughter—I was more concerned about this deranged woman hitting me in the mouth before I could finish my sentence.
“So let me get this straight—you,” she started, pointing her index finger at me. “The same nigga who looks for a condom even if I just want a kiss, had unprotected sex with a bitch you didn’t know? Really, Gage? And now the hoe is pregnant? I hopeyou got a whole blood panel, because if you think you’re the first person her nasty ass fucked without knowing, you are sadly mistaken. Little bitch needs to be tranquilized.”
“Aye, watch your fucking mouth. I know you’re upset, and I’m not taking that away from you, but Mahasin and I both were reckless and consenting that night. She didn’t get pregnant on her own, and she isn’t going through this pregnancy on her own. Watch how you speak about the mother of my child.”
I meant every firm word that came out of my mouth. This was exactly why I didn’t want Paris to know anything about Mahasin—her anger always made her prejudge a situation before she had all the facts.
“The mother of your child? So that’s what she is now?”
“Yes. Look, Paris, I didn’t sign up for this to happen—I mean, logically I did, fucking unprotected—but hopefully you understand what I mean.”
She let out a bitter huff.
“My intentions were never to hurt you, and I am sorry for the way you’re feeling right now. But I’m going to take care of my child—and her mother.”
“It’s a girl?” she questioned, the words barely making it out of her mouth. “And why would you need to take care of… her? You’re supposed to only take care of your kid!” she yelled, throwing the remote at me.
“Taking care of my daughter’s motheristaking care of my daughter. She’s the one who’ll have the baby most of the time—enduring the sleepless nights, midnight feedings, and whatever else comes with the hardest job in the world. If I make sure Mahasin is good—financially, mentally, and emotionally, then she’ll be well-equipped to care for the baby in my absence.”
I understood and respected Paris’s feelings, but she had me fucked up if she thought she had any say in how I cared for my child. Still, I felt bad that she was hurting.
“Tell me how to fix this—for you… For us,” I said, motioning my hands between us.
She stared at me for a long beat. The anger in her eyes melted into something cunning… desperate almost.
“If she’s pregnant with your baby, then I want to be pregnant with your baby too.”
I stared back at her, confused as hell—unsure whether to laugh in her face or hit her in the head with the same remote she’d just popped me with.
“That’s not… Paris, that’s not how this works, nor is it an option.”
“Why not? She gets to have your baby—why can’t I?”
“Because this isn’t a competition or a joke, P.”
“So, you mean to tell me, Gage, I’m just supposed to be pushed to the side because you had one night of being irresponsible?”
“I wouldn’t say I was being irresponsible. Daring, maybe, but irresponsible…” I scolded, the heat creeping into my tone. “Irresponsibility would only come into play if I didn’t step up as a man and take care of them both. So, if there’s breath in my body, both of them will be good.”
“You’re saying that shit, Gage, like she could just quit her job, and you’ll take care of her for the rest of her life.”
“If that’s what she decided to do, then yes.”
Apparently, that response didn’t sit well with the beautiful, raging redhead standing in front of me, because she began trashing my office. If it was movable, she threw it. If it were stationary, she found a way to break it up anyway.
“Paris, I’m going to let you act out—rightfully so, because you’re overstimulated and lack the required vocabulary to express your feelings verbally. When you calm—”
“Oh, shut your ‘lining your luxury cars up in the parking lot by size’ ass the fuck up!” She interrupted me. “You cringe up if somebody serves you mashed potatoes, but you got the balls totellyour womanthat you’re prepared to take care of another woman because she’s having your bastard child?”
Hearing her refer to my daughter as anything less than the perfect reflection of me had me hot. I could’ve gone low, said some shit that would ruin her confidence for life—but I already felt fucked up that this situation even existed... for her. So, I chose not to add fuel to the fire.
Stepping over all the chaos, I headed out of my office, grabbed my keys off the kitchen island, and made my way toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Paris called after my back.
