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“You heard me.”
“You told that nigga that’s his baby?”
“Yep.”
“Are you fucking crazy?”
“No.”
“That’s MY kid.”
Avery smiled.
“Oh, NOW genetics matter?”
“That ain’t the same shit!”
“It is to me.”
“You ain’t pinning my fucking baby on another nigga.”
“Watch me.”
“Avery—”
She opened the door.
“Tomorrow, Xay.”
I looked at Heather.
She nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
I stood there while Avery walked out with my daughter.
Heather stood behind me holding my son.
And for the first time since I walked through that door, I couldn’t think of one lie that would fix this shit.
Still—
Sam loved me.
She was pissed at me sometimes, yeah.
We had our problems.
But that was my wife.
Nine years.
Four kids.
Everything we’d built.
She wasn’t just gonna throw all that shit away.
