Page 113 of Just Like Summer

She cleaned the kitchen, loading the ingredients in the ice cream maker all while swiping tears from her cheeks. Almost forty minutes later, Cairo came in with the dishes off the table.

“He wanted to show me his Legos but he’s passed out on the floor. Where is his room?”

“KP’s room is up the stairs, second on the left.”

“KP?”

“Yeah, Kairo-Palmer.”

He glared at her. “Kairo Palmer? You serious.”

“Yes, Kairo-Palmer Hendrix.”

“Uh huh,” he grumbled, walking away.

She mocked him, rolling her eyes. “Uh huh. Poking his chest out at me.”

While he was gone, she washed the plates. Put the ice cream in the freezer and wiped down the table. When his presence was impossible to ignore, she asked. “If you want to come back and get him tomorrow, you can.”

“Why the fuck you playing with me?” he snapped, the comment pissing him off.

“I’m not playing with you. If you want to come back tomorrow and get your son, you can. I’m not keeping him from you,” she retorted.

“Not anymore. Suddenly you’re caught and you have an attitude with me? Fuck outta here, K. When did you become a liar?”

Her eyes snapped to him, all the years of hurt she had to swallow on display. “Who the fuck you feeling like, C4? Huh? Who? Don’t barge into my house and talk to me fuckin’ crazy.”

“You could’ve told me we have a son the minute you saw me in La Bega,” Cairo pushed back. “And stop calling me that.”

“All that prison water has gotten to your fuckin’ head,” she argued.

“Oh, she cusses and lies,” he continued, going back and forth with her. “Why didn’t you tell me when you saw me. You had chances, K.”

“I don’t know, C4. Probably the same reason you fuckin’ blocked me and when you pop up, you want me running into your arms. This shit don’t go how you want it to go. The moment I found out I was pregnant, I was there to tell you. I waited in that lobby for three fuckin’ hours only to find out, my nigga – the man who promised me the moon – the one that said he wasn’t leaving me, not for nothing or no one in this world, blocked me.”

“I wanted you to move on. Twenty-five years, K. That was my sentence. It would’ve killed me to have you give up your life to come entertain me once a month.”

“So now that’s a problem for you? You’re a hypocrite.”

“Fuck out of here with that. You don’t get it.”

“No, nigga. You don’t get it. Moving on from you was never an option. It didn’t matter that I let you block me without sending Nate to blow up your spot. Didn’t matter that I moved out the city to the valley. Or that I went to night school until I had him and scrubbed floors and toilets during the day. Sometimes I’d leave a night class and go clean a house. I sat in a two-bedroom house with my titty in his mouth doing online courses and working,” she stated. “I did exactly what you wanted me to do and still couldn’t move on. You haven’t even looked at your accounts. Had you, you wouldn’t be here talking to me like I’m a bitch off the fuckin’ street who hid your baby from you and fuckin’ on the next nigga.”

“What are you talking about?” he fussed.

“How much did you leave me?” she quizzed, hands on her hips so she wouldn’t fly across the table and punch him in his handsome ass face. She’d feel bad then kiss him and before she knew it, would be pinned to the table taking dick.

“Almost three hundred g’s.”

“Do you know how much you came home to? After five years, factor in your legal fees and that house you’re in,” Kamilla continued. “The account you’re looking at is only your royalties from Ekho’s album. That other one you haven’t logged into is well over three million. From the businesses you own, from the investments I made for you, off the strength that you were mine and we made something so magical. Even after blocking me and refusing to fight for yourself, I kept fighting for you. I kept trying to steal the fucking moon. I loved your son for the both of us. I’ve worked this fucking hard for the both of us. I made sure you had the best fuckin’ lawyers for the both of us. It wasn’t Nate or Fahaad. It was me.

“So don’t you ever come into my house throwing the weight of your dick around and look me in my face and call me a liar because your feelings are hurt. My feelings have been raw for years. Off some shit you caused because you quit. I have lived and breathed you every day, so bad it hurts. The moment I attempt to move on, corny nigga or not, it feels like guilt ripping through me. And the heart you own refusing to beat if it’s not for you. Every day for five years, I’ve had to look at him and know that it should’ve been me because I didn’t listen.”

She paused to wipe her face. Cairo tightened his jaw, wanting to touch her, but she refused.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me. If you want to come get your son tomorrow, you can. He wakes up at seven,” Kamilla finalized.

“I’m staying.”