12

“Aria, that dress!” Morgan gasped as Aria pulled back the curtain to the dressing room and stepped out into the boutique.

“Mommy, Auntie Ari is pretty,” Yara signed.

“Yes, she is, Yolly,” Morgan signed back.

“Tee-Tee, you look like a pwincess!” Messari yelled while jumping up and down in front of Aria, arms reaching up high for her to pick him up. She obliged him and gathered him up in her arms.

“Eww, boyfriend, nobody wants to look like that.” Aria frowned, turning to the mirror in the big Cinderella gown.

“You don’t like it?” Mo asked. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s one of the most expensive in the store,” the bridal associate added. “One of a kind.”

“It’s so big,” Aria said, fluffing the side of it with one hand. “And heavy. I feel like I’m drowning in fabric. I’m not the girl that wants to look like a princess. I want Isa to see me and want to fuck.”

“Aria!” Morgan shouted as she stood and took Messari from her best friend’s arms.

“My bad,” Aria snickered.

“So sexy. So perhaps maybe mermaid style?” the woman asked.

“I don’t know, just not this,” Aria said, frowning.

“I’ll pull some options,” the woman answered before heading to the front of the store.

Aria sat down on the floor, causing the dress to pool around her, and Yara rushed over to play in the folds. Aria laughed as she grabbed Yara’s small body up, tickling her and then hugging her tightly. Yara got comfortable in Aria’s lap.

“So he made you bring them so he could make sure you wasn’t going to fuck with a nigga?” Aria asked.

“Basically,” Morgan answered.

“He does know that both Messiah and Meek will fuck you with these kids present, don’t he?” Aria asked.

Morgan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why haven’t you told that man yet, Mo? They’re his. He deserves to know that,” Aria said. “It’s safe to say he’s not going to hurt you or them, so what are you waiting for?”

“I’m just not ready yet, Aria. Sharing them with him is letting him back in. I can’t handle him barging into my life. I’m already in over my head with Bash. I don’t need more problems right now,” Morgan reasoned.

“You don’t get to decide that, Mo. You’re being selfish as fuck,” Aria said. “These are his kids.” She lowered her voice on the last part so Messari wouldn’t overhear. He was the king of repeating what he heard, and Aria didn’t want to get Morgan caught up. She stood. “When Messiah busts your ass, don’t cry victim, because he’s going to fuck you up when he finds out.”

Morgan sighed as Aria disappeared behind the curtain to change.

“We’re going to head out. I told Bash I wouldn’t be gone long,” Morgan called out.

“Yeah, whatever, girl. You just don’t want to hear what I’m saying because you know I’m right,” Aria said. She pulled back the curtain, only wearing panties and a bra. She hugged Morgan. “I’ll call you later.”

Morgan gathered her twins and headed out into the mall.

“Mommy, Mommy, me want ice cream!” Messari squealed from the double stroller he was seated in.

Morgan pushed them to the food court and purchased one cone for the three of them to share before finding a quiet spot. She let her twins have free rein as they bounced and played around the table while running up to her for free licks of the chocolate treat.

“Mommy, more! I want my own!” Messari shouted as he pushed Yara out of the way. She fell, hitting the tiled floor hard.

“Messari!” Morgan shouted as she bent down to pick Yara up off the floor. Her daughter wasn’t as delicate as she seemed. Her pretty face was bunched in a scowl as she reached across Morgan to hit Messari back. Her big baby cried instantly. Messari’s little lips trembled as he cocked his head back and cried bloody murder.

“Mommmyyyyy, Yolly hit me!” he screamed as he climbed up her body and rubbed his chocolate-covered face into Morgan’s Gucci T-shirt.

Yolly scrambled up her other leg and tried to reach for Messari, but he was the type to hold grudges, so he turned away from his sister, crying on Morgan’s shoulder.

“Him hit me too, Mommy,” Yara signed.

Morgan snickered because Messari had indeed passed licks first.

“I know,” Morgan said, winking at Yara before pulling Messari off her shoulder and gripping his chin. She kissed his chubby cheeks. “Stop crying, Mommy’s Ssari. You can’t hit people and get mad if they hit you back.”

“But her hits hurt more, Mommy!” Messari wailed.

It took everything in Morgan not to laugh. “Aww, my baby,” she cooed as she pulled him close and bounced her leg. She gave Yara a high five behind Messari’s back. There was something so special about her baby girl. Yolly was going to give the world hell. Morgan just knew it, and she loved it about her. Yara was a fighter.

“That’s right, baby. Beat up the boys,” she signed. Yara giggled and then climbed down before getting back in the stroller.

“You want to say sorry to your sister, baby boy?” Morgan asked.

“No,” Messari said stubbornly.

“Boys don’t hit girls, Ssari. Not ever. Even if she hits you first. So go tell her you’re sorry, okay?” Morgan coached.

Messari turned toward Yara. “Sorry!” he mumbled stubbornly before burying his face back into Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan shook her head. He was Messiah’s son through and through. Do damage, then label everybody else the bad guy while withholding sympathy.

Morgan put Messari down. “Climb up next to Yolly. It’s time to go.”

Messari did as he was told, and Morgan looked down at her mess of a shirt. Her hair was disheveled, thrown up in a messy bun, and her shirt was now ruined. The boyfriend jeans she wore had melted stains of ice cream from the twins’ messy hands. It was definitely time to head out. Morgan was exhausted, and they hadn’t even been out that long. Having two babies was a blessing, but they wore Morgan out on a regular basis.

Morgan pushed the stroller through the mall and was halfway to her car when she saw him. In fact, she smelled him first. Ahmeek Harris wore Bond No. 9, and the way it mixed with the scent of his sweat flashed through Morgan’s mind as images of him on top of her body caused her to stop walking abruptly. Her entire body reacted to him. He was across the corridor, but just his presence made Morgan come alive.

An invisible lump in her throat choked her. What was he doing here? With her? Morgan was sick. She stood there frozen in her dirty shirt and raggedy ponytail. She prayed that Meek didn’t see her. The universe wouldn’t be cruel to her that way, but she knew he would turn her way. She knew the magnetic energy that made it impossible to stop looking at him would guide his eyes her way. He stilled on her for three seconds before Morgan turned. She had to get out of there. Away from him. Out of this infected space with this tainted air that made it hard to breathe, but before she could, Yara shot across the hallway that separated them.

Ahmeek turned away from his date and met Yara halfway, scooping her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“That’s my girl,” he said.

Morgan almost hated that her daughter loved this man so much. She was jealous. She wanted to be the one with her arms wrapped around his neck. She knew he smelled like Bond No. 9, and she couldn’t wait to snatch her daughter back because she would undoubtedly smell like him too.

“Who do we have here?”

Morgan’s heart ached when Livi stepped up beside Meek. She was flawless. Redbone, with a blunt-cut bob that was cut to perfection. Livi switched looks like panties, going from long to short hair by the day because she was pretty enough to pull off any style. A midriff off-white T-shirt and denim laced her. Morgan judged every inch of her perfection, from her toes to the top of her head. She rolled her eyes. She didn’t remember this girl being this bad. Their only other encounter, Morgan had such the advantage. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“This the queen of the world,” Ahmeek said. “You can finish looking for the bag you want. Let me handle this. I’ll catch up.”

Livi looked at Morgan. A smirk played on her lips like she was amused, and Morgan knew why. She had gotten the last laugh.

Bitch.

“You never really cancel a good subscription. Like Netflix. You might pause it, but you just keep coming back,” Livi said.

“Yo, the flex is unbecoming,” Ahmeek said. “Go pick out your shit before I change my mind about buying it.”

Livi’s face dropped at the warning as she adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder and turned. “Don’t be long, babe,” she said. She shot Morgan a look of triumph. “Nice shirt.” It was a final jab before walking away.

Morgan scoffed and diverted her eyes to Messari, who was sleeping in the double stroller she held on to.

Livi turned on her expensive heels and sashayed back into the Louis Vuitton boutique like she had no worries about leaving her man with Morgan. Like Morgan wasn’t even a threat at all.

Morgan reached for Yara, and Ahmeek turned, shrugging her off.

“She’s where she wanna be. Why ain’t you?” he challenged.

“Why do you care? I see Livi’s back, or maybe she never left,” Morgan stated. Her eyes betrayed her, filling with emotion as she shook her head. “It ain’t even been that long, and you’re already—” Morgan stopped talking and pulled in a deep breath. “Just give me my daughter,” she said.

Morgan reached for Yara, who pulled away and wrapped herself around Ahmeek tighter. Morgan huffed in frustration as she cleared hair from her face. Her eyes were burning so badly. He was already moving on, and it hurt.

“Tears and goodbyes don’t match, Mo. You stopped fucking with me, not the other way around. Now you’re here upset because I’m stepping out with someone else? You out here planning babies with niggas. Ain’t that right, Mo? You and your fiancé taking it to the next step. You letting that nigga put babies in you. That’s what I heard, right?” Ahmeek asked. His temper rose at just the thought. He had denied every single phone call from Morgan since.

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” she said defensively.

“I fuck with actions, Mo. Your mouthpiece real good, but you walk different,” Meek said.

“You know that’s not true,” Morgan answered. “You know how I feel about you.”

“I know the nigga had you sitting at his side talking about leaving babies in you and calling you love. I know that. You lucky I left air in that nigga lungs.”

“And you’re lucky I didn’t snatch that lace front off that bitch head,” Morgan shot back. “Just go back in there with your girlfriend and give me my child,” she snapped, a tear slipping down her face. She hated that she was so damn emotional all the time. When she was afraid, she cried. Angry … she cried … sad … more tears. Even when Mo was happy, she shed emotion. She just wanted to be strong. “What are you doing with her?” She knew she had no right to demand answers.

“Whatever I want to do, Mo. I’m single. You not my girl. You ended the shit,” Ahmeek answered as he rubbed the back of his neck. This was too much drama, too much back and forth for Ahmeek. He had never let a woman play with his emotions the way he allowed Morgan to play. She was in one day and out the next. Morgan could see the stress building in him.

Stunned, Morgan’s eyes widened. Most men would have lied. He served her an unfortunate truth. “Right,” she whispered, nodding. “I forgot. Ahmeek with all the hoes. Move ’em in, move ’em out, right? You’re predictable, and you’re disgusting. Bitch probably been in the picture since I started fucking with you.”

Ahmeek stepped to Morgan, dwarfing her as he gripped her T-shirt, snatching her close. Her space became his, like he’d paid rent and had a right to occupy it. Yara’s head rested peacefully against his shoulder, and he pushed Mo back toward the wall. Jail. She was locked up in Ahmeek, and freedom wasn’t an option as he glared at her.

“You’re in your feelings, so I’ma let you get that off. Don’t feel good, do it? Watching somebody you fuck with heavy give love to somebody that ain’t you? It drive you a little crazy, right? Got your blood boiling thinking about me putting my lips on the same places I put them on you? Got you putting together shit in your head that make your chest ache.”

“It makes me regret ever fucking with you,” she said plainly. “Every single moment.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling the same lately, Mo. Real shit. None of this should have even happened because you stay on your bullshit,” Meek stated. “Fucking wasting my energy, yo.”

“Fuck you, Meek!” Morgan snapped. Morgan’s voice echoed through the three-story building, and passersby slowed their stroll to take in the heated argument. She was making a scene. She was so deep in her feelings that she couldn’t help it, and he shook his head. This young-ass girl would drive him crazy if he let her.

“We’re done,” Ahmeek said. “I’m off it, Mo. Coming at me over a bitch when you got niggas in rotation. Ya’ ass and your games. Fuck out of here with that shit, man.”

Morgan swiped another tear. He was right. She knew it. She didn’t care. She was still hurt.

“You’re a ho, and I knew you were a ho before I let you in. Ain’t nothing special about a whack-ass nigga that’s giving out one-size-fits-all dick.”

His hand pinched the sides of her face before she could utter another insult. A lesser man would have hurt her. Meek was well aware of her limits. He issued the warning with no pain, but the look in his eyes told her she was pushing him. Mo was lethal when provoked, and her mouth was her weapon of choice.

“I don’t even see the point in pretending like this shit even matters anymore. None of it matters.” Her sister took over her mind. Would Meek slap her? Would he hit her? Would he destroy her? Bash did it. Even Messiah had hurt her—not physically, but damn if the emotional blows didn’t hurt worse than the physical ones. She was so damn tired of building men up in her head for them to not meet her expectations. They always fell short. Defeat was written all over her.

Ahmeek’s eyes changed. Her words altered him. Anger melted into concern because he knew that Morgan could be pushed to the edge. He also knew she wasn’t afraid to free-fall to the bottom. She had done it before. “You have to tell me what we talking about here, Mo. Keep it a buck with me, cuz it sounds to me like you giving niggas too much power. It sounds like you’re going to a place that you almost didn’t make it back from last time, and that’s never going to happen with me around. Good or bad terms, I’m never going to pretend like I don’t see the shit and let you fucking drown, so tell me. Is this for attention, or is this for real? I’m with it either way. You got problems, I got answers, love, either fucking way. You want attention, I got that for you. I got that all day for you. I’ll pay real close attention, Morgan Atkins.”

Mo tried to roll her eyes and look away, but Ahmeek was in control. He turned her chin back to him. There would be no averting this conversation.

“If it’s something else, if this is serious, if you’re in trouble, I need to know. You said you would come to me if you felt like that again. Niggas don’t deserve you. Not even me, love.” He brought his face so close to hers that Morgan sobbed. “What the fuck, Mo? Stop letting niggas ruin you. You’re so much better, man. You’re so fucking good, yo. I’d love the shit out of you if you let me.”

She could see his conflict. Out of everyone, he knew exactly how fragile Mo could be. She bawled right there, hands covering her face, forehead leaned against his chest. The weak spot he had for this girl made no sense. She had him completely caught in her web. Morgan had to be karma for the many hearts he had broken because she stayed fucking his shit up.

“Shit’s that bad? It can’t be that bad, Mo. Talk to me. If you can’t talk to me, I can find you someone, but whatever the fuck is going on that got you shutting me out, we got to settle that.”

Morgan trembled. This man holding her daughter in his arms was offering solutions to problems she hadn’t even admitted to herself. There was no hiding place when matters of the heart were concerned. Her eyes told all, and they screamed to Ahmeek for help. Morgan wished she could let him. The truth she was speaking was a lie, and he knew it. It was like no one else in the entire mall existed. Just them and this corner. Just him staring in her eyes. Morgan knew she was see-through.

“There’s nothing to settle, Meekie. It was cool. You were something to do, and now I’m done. I’m bored, so just let it go. I can’t fuck with you, Ahmeek. I don’t want you.”

Why the hell couldn’t she control her emotions? She wished she could stop crying. Her inner bitch would be so much more believable if she could at least stop her voice from quivering, but damn, without him, she was mourning. She was grieving a loss of love. A loss of trust. Ahmeek had not only wooed her body but the finesse of her soul had been extraordinary. He had mind-fucked her, exposing a level of intimacy that felt like a secret only best friends would share. They had spent so much time together that he had unknowingly become the person whose gaze she sought when she found something funny in a roomful of people. He was the one who reached for her hand when she felt anxiety creeping up her spine. He was the person who finished her sentences before the words could leave her thoughts. The friendship beneath the sex and passion was so solid that the void he left behind was debilitating. Ahmeek was her inside joke, and now she had to let him go. To keep Ethic safe and to stop herself from losing it all, she had to give this up. Return it to the forbidden place it had come from.

He blew out a sharp breath. The tears gutted him. He wanted to hold her at her word. It was fuck him, so it should be fuck her, but he hated the discomfort that accompanied fighting with Morgan Atkins. Her tears had always done something to him, even before she was his concern.

“Once I let go, ain’t no double back,” he said. “I ain’t with this shit, Mo. The back and forth. I know what I’m about and what I want. That’s you, but I don’t particularly like the shit you on. I ain’t ever let a mu’fucka play with me, love.” She tried to turn her head, and his hand steered her chin right back to him. “In my eyes.” Morgan melted. Her lip trembled. Even with the mess her feelings had made of her face, she was still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Ahmeek had been with his fair share of women. He had been with the baddest, but there was something about Morgan Atkins. A daintiness to her that pulled his heart through his chest, that made his dick react when she was around. He lived to hear the melody of her voice. He loved it. It had been far too long since he had indulged in her. “Damn, I want you. You acting the fuck up out here. Come home with me, Mo.”

“I can’t, Ahmeek.” Her voice was so pained that it made his forehead pinch in concern.

“I wanna devour you, love,” he admitted.

Her pulse raced. Her body hummed.

“Meekie, no.” Why did this man speak to her this way? He was so close. He wanted it, she wanted it more. A life with him seemed impossible, but a day, a day and a long night they could have anytime. Only she couldn’t. Too much was at stake. She had to let him go. Her easy love, her steady love, and she couldn’t fucking have him. She had never wanted to throw a temper tantrum more.

“Yeah, love,” he countered. He was close enough to breathe her air, and Morgan’s lashes fluttered.

“Why are you with her?” she cried.

“Why ain’t I with you is the better question?” he shot back.

“Because I can’t be, Meekie. Just leave it alone. Forget we even happened.” Morgan sobbed.

Morgan felt his lips touch hers, and her knees went weak. She reached for his beard and curled her fingers through it, hurting him, gripping tightly for dear life as she indulged in him.

I love him so much.

Ahmeek pulled back. “You’re fucking me up,” he admitted.

“Meek!”

His temple throbbed as he pressed his forehead to hers as Livi’s voice echoed behind him.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he said. Morgan knew he would end things with Livi if she asked him to. She couldn’t ask him to, however. Not this time. Bash had set a trap she couldn’t escape from.

“I don’t want you to do anything,” Mo said. She pulled Yara from his arms and wiped her eyes before squeezing out of his trap. She grabbed the handles of the stroller and walked around it, placing Yara inside. He stood there, watching her. Frowning. Rubbing both hands down his waves and then caressing his lips where the taste of her lingered.

“Mo…” His voice held so much dread that Morgan couldn’t stop herself from crying.

“No,” she answered as she rushed away.

“Yo, love!” he shouted after her. Her feet stopped moving, and she looked back. “I dig the shirt. You should go back to wherever you got it from and cop another one,” he said.

It was his shirt. A shirt she’d gotten from his loft because she didn’t have clothes there.

“Or not,” Livi said as she looped her arm through Ahmeek’s.

Morgan turned and retreated with her feelings as Ahmeek walked the other way. They were putting distance between themselves. With every step they grew farther apart, but it felt as if she were still trapped against that wall, still staring in his eyes. Her heart beat for him, and she couldn’t have him. He was walking away with another girl because Morgan was pushing him out.