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“Wow.”

“Heather—”

“You really ain’t shit.”

“Here you go.”

“No, here the fuck you go. I could really blow your whole fucking shit up right now, and I don’t even know why I’m still keeping your fucking secret.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Maybe because I love your stupid ass.” I pointed at him. “Or maybe because Sam doesn’t deserve that type of fucking heartache.”

Xavier laughed.

Actually laughed.

“Bitch, you getting a fucking moral compass now?”

My face changed.

“You been fucking me for three years, Heather. Get the fuck off your high horse.”

I stared at him.

That shit hit harder than I wanted it to.

Because technically?

He wasn’t wrong.

And I fucking hated that.

“Nigga, you ain’t even bring your son a gift.”

“Bitch, I paid for half this shit.”

“That’s not the fucking point, Xavier!”

“What the fuck is the point then?”

“The point is I shouldn’t have to stand in there pretending I made this baby by my fucking self while his father is standing ten feet away!”

His jaw tightened.

“And what you want me to do about that right now?”

I stared at him.

There it was.

That same shit.

What did I want him to do?

Apparently everything he’d been promising me for three fucking years was always supposed to happen later.