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“Okay, Daddy.”

“Don’t start that shit.”

That got a real laugh.

Small.

But real.

I took my coat off.

“You want room service?”

“Maybe later.”

I walked farther into the room.

She looked good as hell.

But tired.

Five days ago, this woman found out her husband had been fucking her little sister for a year and a half, her cousin for damn near three years, fathered babies with both of them, and got her sister pregnant again.

Xay really was a piece of fucking work.

And that was coming from me.

Sam walked over to the little bar.

“You want something?”

“Nah.”

“I do.”

“I figured.”

She poured herself a glass of wine.

I watched her take a sip.

“You talk to him today?”

Her eyes immediately cut toward me.

“Don’t.”

“Aight.”

“I mean it, Levin. I don’t wanna talk about Xay tonight.”

“I said aight.”

She took another sip.

“I’ve been talking about that nigga for five straight days. My mother. My father. Nesha. Heather crying. Avery crying. Everybody calling me asking if I’m okay.” She shook her head. “I’m tired of hearing his fucking name.”

“Then we ain’t talking about him.”