“That’s him,” I said. “He just got back with my snacks.”
“Alright,” Coffee replied. “Call me in the morning.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too. And Khloe?”
“Yeah?”
“Just… think next time before you speak.”
I smiled faintly. “I will, Mom. Goodnight.”
I ended the call and set my phone down, finishing my routine as the sounds of Kairo and Kennedi talking got closer.
I stepped out of the bathroom just in time to see Kairo dumping grocery bags onto the bed.
Kennedi stood at the edge of the bed with her arms crossed, already irritated.
“I thought I said hot fries,” she complained. “Not hot chips.”
Kairo didn’t even look up. “Baby, it’s the same thing.”
“No, it’s not,” she shot back, digging through the pile anyway.
I leaned against the doorframe, laughing. “It’s definitely not the same thing.”
He glanced up at me like I was supposed to be on his side. “Y’all act like I wanted to go to the store in the first place. I had already showered.”
“That’s true,” I said, smiling. “But when I said I wanted a Butterfinger, you wanted one too.”
Kennedi finally grabbed her chips and drink, still shaking her head. “Whatever,” she said, heading out of the room. “Y’all just don’t listen.”
As soon as she left, I looked at Kairo and laughed. “That is your daughter.”
He pulled his shirt over his head. “Nah. When she acts like that, she’s all you.”
I climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged next to the snacks.
“She always gets fries,” I said. “So she probably assumed you knew.”
He sighed dramatically and slid into the bed. “See? That thinking I can read her mind shit. She gets that from you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God. Here we go.”
He laughed, stretching out and yawning hard. “Busy day tomorrow?”
“Mm, not really,” I said, grabbing my Butterfinger and opening it. “You?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I gotta meet with Mrs. Nikki and show her a house.”
“Aww,” I said softly. “How is she?”
“She’s good… I guess,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sure after being married that long, it’s a hard transition, but she sounds fine when she calls.”
Mrs. Nikki had been around my whole life. She was in the same friend circle as my mom and Kairo’s mom. I’d grown up hearing her laugh at dinner parties, watching her dance at cookouts, but divorcing at her age felt weird.
“What time?” I asked.
