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“I don’t want my kids around that nigga.”
“Why?”
“Because I fucking said so.”
I laughed.
Wrong answer.
“You don’t make rules for my household anymore.”
“They my kids!”
I scoffed.
“This isn’t about the kids.”
“Yes the fuck it is.”
“No. It’s about you.”
I stepped closer.
He stared at me.
“I’ll take you to court.”
“Do it.”
That caught him off guard.
“What?”
“I said do it.”
I pointed toward the door.
“Get a lawyer. File whatever the fuck you want. We can let a judge figure out custody, parenting time, holidays, all of it.”
His face hardened.
“You think I’m playing?”
“I hope not.”
He stared at me and then his eyes narrowed.
“You think because you got Levin now, you don’t need me.”
I laughed.
“Again. This isn’t about Levin.”
“Everything about this shit is Levin now.”
“No. Levin could marry somebody tomorrow and move to fucking Australia. I still wouldn’t take you back.”
His face changed.
