“Probably giving them twins, shaking baby syndrome.”
“I don’t think it works that way.” I laughed as I walked through the supermarket. I had a craving for brownies and mustard for some disgusting reason.
She laughed. “Anyway, hurry up back. I just put your godson down for a nap, so we have some time to talk without his bad ass.”
“Not too much on him.” I giggled.
“You still got your key?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”
Cane: I miss you
Me: You shouldn’t
After buying my groceries, I headed back to Imani’s apartment. She had a one-bedroom apartment, so I’d be sleeping on the couch for a little while, but I didn’t mind. I could have paid for a hotel for a few days, but I didn’t want to be alone.
-
After putting my brownies into the oven, I went to take a shower. It was October, and cold as hell out, yet sweat still found its way between my breasts.
I stood in the shower, letting the hot water fall down my body. The only thing I could think about was Cane. And I hated every thought. He was married. Fucking married! And all I could think about was his touch, his mouth, and how well he took care of me. And then I wonder if he was the same with his wife. He had to be because why else would she allow him to fuck other women? Then I wondered what she looked like. She was probably pretty. Prettier than me. Probably came from a good home. Unlike me.
I sighed as I continued to wash myself. I thought this shower was going to ease my mind. It didn’t. It actually had me overthinking.
I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out. I screamed when I saw Cane standing there. His arms were folded, and he had a scowl on his face. He held out his hand for me to take, then wrapped a towel around my body.
“How did you know where I was?”
“I will always know where you and my kids are. Now come on, love. Let’s go home.”
“That’s not my home. That’s yours.”
“Ours.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“So, what the fuck are you about to do, Snow? Sleep on a couch while you’re fucking pregnant because you’re mad at me?”
“Yeah.”
“Na, that doesn’t work for me.”
“It isn’t up to you.”
“It is! I already told you not to deny yourself or my children anything when you’re mad at me. Yet here you are, doing this shit again.” He said.
“It’s not that serious. I’ve slept in worse places.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll never experience the worst again. Now let’s go. You’re going to let me paint a pumpkin on your belly, and we’re going to wear the stupid ass matching pajamas I got us.”
“I’m not about to do any of that with you.”
“Why? Because I’m married?”
“Yes.”
“Why the fuck should that stop us from creating memories for our children to look back on?”
