He stands abruptly and comes back around the desk. He pulls Ace into a firm hug, patting his back as he says, “Congratulations, son. Proud of you.”
He keeps his distance from me, but he does say, “Congratulations,” to me.
But I’m sitting here wondering if he watched the video. I know he saw the thumbnail, at least.
Awkward.
“You’re gonna be a grandpa,” I say. “What do you want the baby to call you?”
He considers it for a second. “I’m gonna have to think about that one.”
“Take your time,” Ace says. “You got a minute.”
Jackson stares at Ace like he’s studying himself in a mirror. “I’m truly happy for you, son. You’re about to be a father. This is where it gets good.”
Ace beams. “Thanks to this woman right here.”
He’s not moved by that at all.
“Well, we’re gonna let you get back to work,” Ace says as he moves toward the door. “Thanks for hearing us out.”
“Mm hm.”
As we step past the door of the office, I glance back over my shoulder. Jackson’s still frozen in his spot, watching us with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.
And I wink at him.
Just a little goodbye that lets him know I'm playing but I'm not playing with him.
46
Raya
Four months later…
There are few things I hate worse than baby showers.
Going to the dentist. Jury duty. Being pregnant. Looking at Kamryn’s face.
But Ace’s mother insisted, and Ace was excited, so here I am, all dressed up in yellow with this big ass fucking bump being oohed and ahhed over like a specimen in a lab.
I only have to endure this torture for two hours. Plus, I do happen to like baby shower meatballs.
Ace told me his mom was having the shower catered, and I had to put my swollen foot down on that. I told him point blank, I want my fucking meatballs. And I don’t want them catered. I want somebody’s mama or granny or plate lady to make them. In a crock pot. With grape jelly.
He came back the next day and said he took care of it.
And that’s the first thing he gets me when we arrive—a big ass plate of meatballs.
“Thank you, baby.”
“You need anything else?” he asks eagerly.
“Nope. I’m good.”
Yeah, that’s one word to describe me having my big ass perched on a chair in the middle of the room waiting to play some fuck ass games.
A fucking drink is what I need.
