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Me: You know I will call you and text you til you answer. And what the fuck could keep you too busy to talk?
Lana: I’ll just turn off my phone you asshat and nothing, I’m just busy.
That’s cute, real funny this woman is.
Me: Cute, nice try. I’m coming over and we will talk about your terrible sense of humor.
Lana: Kingston, I’m not joking. I don’t think we should talk right now. I’m still hurt and maybe it’s time you move on. I’m trying to.
I see fucking red, molten lava exploding from a volcano, red. It’s been a fucking week and she’s going to throw in the fucking towel? I said a break, not the fucking end. I never agreed to be completely done. And if she’s pregnant, there isn’t a chance she’s going to push me away. This is season three Ross and Rachel, shit. We were on a break, not over.
What if Lana is pregnant?
Grabbing my keys and mentally preparing myself to face Lana after this revelation, I try not to vomit. Am I ready to be a dad?
Me: I can’t believe you would do this to me after a week. Running already Lana?
Lana: I’m not doing anything but trying to let you move on, don’t you want to be happy?
Me: Yeah, happy with you, god damn it!
Lana: Don’t.
Me: Don’t what baby, don’t fight for you? Don’t desire you like I want to?
Lana: Stop, you aren’t playing fair. I’m turning my phone on silent. Leave me alone Kingston.
Me: Not a chance. I don’t play fucking fair when it comes to you. I love you and I never promised to play fair...ever.
Climbing in my car, I call Shayla. She has to know.
“Hey bud.”
“Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Cut the crap, Shay. Where’s Lana?”
“Kingston, she’s here with me. Just leave it be.” I hear Lana whispering in the background, cursing my name. You and me both, baby.
“Shayla, I love you but this is my business and I need to work shit out with Lana. Am I on speaker?” Silence comes through the line and I hear her soft voice moments later.
“No.” Shayla sniffles—I made her cry. Damn pregnancy hormones.
“Sis, hey I’m sorry,” my voice softens. “This isn’t your fault, this is mine and Lana’s issue. I need to get to her so we can work this all out. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”
“Promise?” She sniffles again. I smile. I love my sister.
“Promise,” I lie, I’m irrational right now.
“Okay, I’ll let her know you’re coming over.” Lana shouts profanities in the background and I hear the sound of a chair scrapping against the floor.
“Don’t let her leave, Shayla. I need to work this out,” I plead, letting the desperation in my voice seep through the receiver.
“I won’t.”
Ending the call I hit the accelerator, speeding as best as I can through green lights downtown. Driving into the suburbs of Trey and Shayla’s new home, I pass all the modern-day homes that look like they came straight out of a modern-day homemaker book. I take a deep breath when I approach Shayla’s house, the sunset fading behind their colonial style home with its wraparound porch. I pull up behind Lana’s jeep and hop out. Flipping my snapback hat around, I march up the steps in a hurry.
