“Damn!” someone said. I knew it was Jason.
“But don’t worry, girl. I want you to give him the best of theonlything you’ll ever have to offer a man. And seeing as I’m awell-renowned OB-GYN, and from my expertise this baby will probably come a week late, I won’t need him well-rested until January.”
Dollface handed me back the mic and floated back to her chair, high-fiving every woman on the way. The snickers weren’t even subtle. Amber let out a loud “Whew!” and fanned herself with a menu.
My stomach was tense—not from embarrassment, but anger.
Pissed that I got played.
Paris had booked the trip during Mahasin’s due date. And because I’d been overstimulated, I hadn’t remembered the dates.
But relief slid in—Dollface believed the baby would come a week late.
I held on to that lifeline. Otherwise, I would’ve canceled that fucking trip.
The whole room watched Paris absorb that shade like a paper towel. She tried her best to smile through it, but the pain and embarrassment were all in her eyes.
Tonight was a moment for life.
The cabin looked as though it had come straight from a postcard. Snow fell in the kind of flakes us folks in Havenbrook only saw on TV—big and soft, damn near tear-worthy. The fireplace did an amazing job making the place feel warm and cozy, and everything smelled like cedar, cinnamon, and peace on earth. It should have felt perfect.
Paris hummed as she unpacked, staging everything in the cabin for what I knew would be Piksta photos with hashtags. Here I am making promises not to use my phone, and she’s letting the whole world know where she is, what she’s doing, and who she’s doing it with.
I wandered the cabin, room to room, each one possessing its own unique characteristics, each with a breathtaking view. This whole environment was heaven on earth—but my mind couldn’t settle and indulge, because I couldn’t stop thinking about Mahasin giving birth. I know she predicted the baby to come a week later, but let’s face it, it wasn’t up to Mahasin. No, my mind wouldn’t settle until I was less than three miles away from her and she was still pregnant.
Paris came up behind me and slid her arms around my middle.
“This is beautiful. Just perfect,” she said into my shirt.
“It is,” I said, meaning the house, not the moment.
She circled around to look me in the face—had to be because of the disdain in my tone.
“What?” she asked.
Something in me told me to let it go. Just get through this week, and when we're back home, I’ll have the conversation with Paris about ending our relationship. My gut already told me the answer to the question that had been brewing, so there was no need to bring it up.
“You picked this week on purpose, didn’t you?” I brought it up.
Her expression went from curious to innocent, but I saw the devil all behind that pouty grin.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You knew it was around my daughter’s due date.”
“Gage, seriously? Is that what you think of me?”
Yeah, I wanted to say, but refrained.
“Honestly, I didn’t think about that when planning this vacation. I only thought about spending Christmas with the man I love.”
Love.We’d never used that word before. Came nowhere close to saying it to each other. There was only one woman besides my mama that I ever told I loved, and I’d be content with her being the last.
“Aight,” I said, not convinced.
After chopping some wood, I came in to take a shower and prepare dinner. Retrieving one of my T-shirts from the drawer, I noticed a random safety pin on the dresser. Immediately, I started itching at the thought of it belonging to someone else, which meant this cabin wasn’t clean.
“Aye, Paris, we gotta go. This place is filthy,” I called out.
