“What drama?” I was confused.
“You’re a good guy. You’re gorgeous. You’re successful. You’re . . . hell, kind. You’re a gentleman. You deserve somebody better than a chick that’s been thot-boppin’ through the Coyotes making bad decisions and ruining lives.”
“Oh, okay. When you said drama, you actually meant dramatics. Because you’re being dramatic as hell right now.” I took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen. I directed her to take a seat on one of the stools at the island. “Gimme your coat.”
Once I had her coat, I carried it over to the small dining table in the corner of the room. The townhouse was built for people with more modern sensibilities. There was no formal dining room, as the builders believed that younger buyers didn’t use that space. Instead, it had a kitchen nook, where the interior designer who decorated it for me had placed a small dining table.
When I rejoined her at the island, I couldn’t help but notice that she looked really tired. Exhausted almost. “You hungry?”
Her eyes lit up. “Starving.”
“My personal chef came through today. Let me see what she left.”
I went through the contents of my refrigerator, calling out options to Wyndi. After she decided on steak bites, roasted sweet potatoes, and lightly sauteed cabbage, I microwaved the food. I placed the plate, silverware, and a bottle of cold water in front of her. Then I took a seat on the stool next to her.
We ate in silence for a minute. Finally, when she’d had enough food, she took a long sip of water. “I’ve never beenaround you and not enjoyed myself,” she told me, turning on the stool so we were facing each other.
I was about to respond, but she kept talking.
“I had such a good time at homecoming. Golfing, riding on the float, the game . . . everything was so much fun.” She rolled her eyes. “The sex.”
That made me smirk.
“I really like you, Kaynaan. And I haven’t liked, liked anybody in a really long time.”
“I like you, too.”
“Let me finish.”
I nodded and gestured for her to keep talking.
“When I got home from Londynville, I was looking forward to seeing where things could go between us. I was willing to put the fact that I messed around with Preston behind me. But the day after I got home, I found out that I’m pregnant.”
I sat back on the stool. I wasn’t repulsed or anything. I was just taken aback. “Damn,” I muttered.
“I know. I know.” Her hands went up to her face, covering it.
I gently took her hands in mine. “Take your hands down, Brown Eyes. You ain’t gotta hide your face.”
“I’m so . . . not ashamed, but remorseful? I’m better than this. I’m better than being pregnant by somebody who could give two fucks about me. Not that I want him to,” she added quickly. “I don’t care that Preston doesn’t care about me. I don’t care about him. And that’s not how pregnancy should happen. That’s not how the gift of new life should start—with two people who don’t give a fuck about each other.” She started to cry.
Once again, I scooped her up bridal style. This time I carried her to the living room. I sat down on the sofa with her in my lap. I held her, stroking her hair, her back, and her thighs. The room was silent except for her soft, strangled sobs.
Eventually, she pulled herself together. There were a few lingering sniffles, as she reached into her crossbody purse and pulled out a few tissues. She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. “Thank you for being so nice about all this. I know some men would’ve put me out after I told them I was pregnant by the next man, especially since the next man is your teammate.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “You were on your hot girl summer shit. You weren’t trying to be serious with his ass. Things happen. Protection fails.”
“Be that as it may, I slept with two people on the same team. You can’t tell me that doesn’t look like thot-boppin’ to people.”
“People outside of you and me? I don’t give a fuck about what people outside of you and me think about us. Who you slept with before me is a non-motherfuckin’ factor. I don’t care about that. That’s not none of my business. Who I slept with before you is none of your business.” I squeezed her tightly. “All I care about is who you sleep with while I’m busy trying to make you mine.”
She sat up and looked into my face. “While you’re trying to make me yours?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Why would you want me?”
“Repeat that?” I knew I had to have misheard her.
