I tapped the email open and leaned against the counter. I scrolled through slowly and read every word, although it didn’t register.
Then, I saw it.
Probability of paternity: 0%.
Suddenly, my body felt lighter, as if someone had spotted me on the bench press.
Although the feeling of relief washed over me, I didn’t quite feel victorious. I didn’t feel that celebratory feeling I’d expected to. I felt sorrow. I felt like the past few weeks of confusion and chaos had all been something that I could have prevented from the beginning. Somehow, I blamed myself for Amora’s decision to withhold the possibility of having a child with me. If I had been more forthcoming and open, she wouldn’t have felt the need to. The guilt reminded me of how similar I’d handled things with Princess when she was pregnant with Yana.
I knew, deep down, we all had our roles in creating the drama that unfolded, yet it still didn’t stop me from feeling how I felt. However, that moment of remorse was short-lived.
I set the mug down, walked to the living room, and paced across the rug. I thought about calling Kam first. I thought aboutletting the PR team handle it. I thought about what the blogs would say when they realized they’d been wrong. But, before I could think, Amora’s name flashed across the phone.
I hesitated to answer at first. I wasn’t scared of her, but I knew that answering would bring her energy into a space that already felt fragile. But then, I realized that hiding was what the old me would’ve done. I breathed out slowly and clicked the green button.
“What’s up,” I said.
Her voice boomed through the speaker. “You got it already, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
There was a short pause, then she laughed. It sounded like a person trying not to fall apart. “And?” she said, as if she didn’t already know.
I felt the irritation begin to rise. “He’s not mine. You read it too. Don’t play with me.” There was another pause. I rolled my eyes and exhaled.
“So, what now?” she snapped. “You gon’ have your people act like I just made this up for fun?”
“Amora,” I shot back, dryly. “You the only one that play games like that. The only thing I need to say is that he isn’t mine.”
“You still embarrassed me!” she yelled. “You ignored me! You had me looking stupid!”
My brows furrowed. I looked at the phone as if she could see the look on my face. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “I ain’t have you doing nothing!” I snapped. “Youposted that child.Youused my lyrics. You did that on some funny shit. Don’t try to blame that on me!” I could hear her heavy breathing through the phone.
“You know what?” she shot back. “I don’t give a fuck what that paper say. The blogs already got it. They already talking.You think this just gonna go away because you got a test? You think the press cares about that?”
A rush of embarrassment fell over me. The fact that I’d once entertained the attention-seeking desperation to be noticed, the obsession with how she was viewed by others, all felt so cheap. I hoped that she found whatever she was chasing, but in that moment, I also knew that I no longer wanted to be anywhere near it.
“Amora, . . . listen to me,” I said. “That baby deserves peace. If you mad at me, be mad at me. But using him like a chess piece is foul.”
“Don’t tell me what to do with my child!” she shouted.
“I’m telling you what I’m not about to be a part of.” My voice was firm and final. “I’m not his father. I’m not claiming him. And I’m not going to let you keep attaching my name to him for attention.”
She went quiet again, and when she spoke, her voice had that dangerous softness. “So what you gonna do? Sue me?”
“I’m gonna protect my family. That’s what I’m gonna do. Stop posting like we were ever a couple. Stop implying that we have a family. We don’t.”
“You think she better than me?”
I knew she was talking about Princess. “This is not about her; this is about you not respecting boundaries. You too grown for all this reality star,Real Housewivesshit. We pushing forty. That shit ain’t cute!”
I heard a sniffle on the other end of the phone. “You right,” she whispered. “You right.”
“I hear you,” I answered with a calm voice. “I wish you the best, but I’m done doing this with you.”
With that, I ended the call. Without another thought or second wasted, I scrolled through my contacts and dialed theonly person who would understand how I felt in that moment. She answered on the third ring.
“Hey,” Princess said softly. I heard papers shifting in the background. “I was just about to text you.”
