| |
C leaned against the door frame as he downed a bottle of water.
“This a nice lil’ baby room,” he said as Dior finished putting the sheets on the baby crib mattress.
“Yeah, but he probably won’t even sleep in here.”
“You gon’ spoil that boy,” he said as he shook his head.
“Babies should be spoiled.”
“No, they shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Cuz they grow up to be spoiled adults.”
“Whatever. He probably won’t sleep in here much cuz I’m not even home that much,” she clarified.
“Aw yeah, that’s true,” he agreed.
“I wish we could get our own place, one level, so that Brian could actually get into the baby’s room.”
“That would be nice. Ya’ll talked about it?” C asked as he sat his empty water bottle on the changing table then sat down in the rocking chair.
“Naw. I know he got enough goin’ on and findin’ ways to spend more money ain’t gon’ help.”
“I’ll bring it up,” he assured her.
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s cool. I won’t make a big deal out of it or nothin’,” he assured her.
“Okay. You still talkin’ to Vanessa?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Yeah, she cool.”
“What that mean? You wanna be wit’ her or you just wanna get some of her goodies?”
“Naw, I just, I don’t know.”
“Well whatever you do, make sure you use protection.”
“That sounded a lil’ cryptic,” he said, looking at her sideways.
“Naw, I’m just sayin’ don’t get trapped.”
“You feel trapped?”
“No, I love Brian and—”
“And you wish you hadn’t gotten pregnant by him,” he cut her off.
“I don’t regret bein’ pregnant. I just wish he hadn’t been shot,” she said as she shook her head. “I didn’t even wanna go on prom this year.”
“If it was meant to happen it was gon’ happen,” he said nonchalantly.
“Why would that be meant to happen?” she wanted to know.
“I don’t know, but you seen Final Destination. We can’t dodge what’s meant to be,” he half joked.
“Maybe not but it’s fuc—” she stopped talking and grabbed her stomach. “Oh shit.” Dior groaned as she leaned against the dresser.
“What’s wrong?” C asked as he sprang to his feet.
“My stomach. I think I’m havin’ contractions.”