My phone buzzed. It was Quest.
I answered on the second ring.
“Hey, baby.” His voice was warm. Familiar. “How’d it go?”
“Good. She’s holding up. Stronger than she looks.”
“That’s Zainab. Shorty’s been through hell and back. She’s a survivor.”
“She is.” I paused. “I’m pretty confident about bail. The evidence against her is weak. But…”
“But what?”
“I think she’s holding something back. Something about that night. Something she’s not telling me.”
Quest was quiet for a moment. “You think she did it?”
“No. Absolutely not. But there’s a piece of the puzzle she’s keeping to herself. I can feel it.”
“Well, if anyone can get it out of her, it’s you. Prime and Yusef are counting on you. We all are.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched between us. I wanted to say something. Wanted to bring up the conversation we’d been dancing around for months. But before I could find the words, he beat me to it.
“Camille.” His voice shifted. Harder now. “We talked about this.”
My stomach dropped. “Quest?—”
“I can hear it in your voice. I know what you’re thinking about.” A heavy exhale. “I do not want children. That hasn’t changed. It’s not going to change.”
“How can you say that? Your brothers have children. Prime is about to be a father. Justice has two daughters. Why is it so impossible for you?”
“Because I’m not them. I’ve made my peace with that. The question is whether you can.”
“Quest…”
“If that’s something you can’t live with,” he said, his voice terrifyingly calm, “then let me know. I’d rather end this now than drag it out and hurt each other worse later.”
The words hit me like a slap.
End this. He was willing to end this. Two years. Two women who loved him completely. And he’d walk away over a hypothetical baby.
“I have to go,” I said, my voice tight.
“Camille—”
“I’ll call you later.”
I hung up before he could respond.
I sat therefor a long time. Hands on the steering wheel. Eyes burning.
He didn’t want children. Fine. He’d made that clear from the beginning. But I thought he’d change. Thought that watchinghis brothers become fathers would soften something in him. Thought that loving me and Lyric would make him want to build something that lasted beyond us.
I was wrong.
Lyric didn’t want kids either. She’d told me that early on—said motherhood wasn’t part of her journey. I’d accepted it then because I had time. Because the desire wasn’t as loud. Because I thought I could be fulfilled without it.