At least I didn’t have to worry about Solana’s unorganized ass.
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than my chest burned, and I knew it was from the combination of whiskey and beef. I turned the engine off, jumped out of my truck, and trudged up the sidewalk. The sound of crickets chirping in harmony on wet grass filled the night’s damp air.Jagoda Bay was in for a rainy summer. I’d seen the forecast for the next two months, and they were predicting at least ten rainstorms per month.
Entering my home, I was greeted by the smell of home-cooked food, which made my stomach grumble. I’d eaten the burger more than an hour ago, but liquor brought on my appetite. Usually, I’d grab a sandwich and a piece of fruit because of the time of night, but with the way it smelled, my noseled me directly to the kitchen, betraying my original plan to go to my room and shower.
It had been a long day. Since things had settled and Don had asked me to stand down about the Rodríguezes for now, I was back to my regular schedule. With Ezio and Vello on unofficial paternity leave, and Nel having to take Pia to an appointment today, I’d been tasked with making sure all our buyers were straight on product and picking up money from those who owed us. I’d even stopped by the cabin and dropped off food for Hobo. He was asleep when I got there, so I left enough for him for a few days and then met Tunan at the bar. Hobo had calmed down since he realized he was there for a long time and not for a good time. His ass still tried me every other visit, so I was happy he was asleep when I pulled up. I didn’t have the energy to go back and forth with his ass. I’d been liable to kill him and betray the promise I’d made to my nephew.
One thing that wasn’t regular was the sight in my kitchen. Standing at the doorframe, I watched the scene before me. A fat ass was eating up a pair of tan shorts that jiggled each time she mixed something in the pot. Loud screams broke my stare, and off to the left of the kitchen, which was way too big for just me, was an irate toddler. Baby Shya was on one. A few strides later, I was in her space. Her cheeks were dark plum, her nose was running, and her tears were endless. The little beauty was screaming like someone had stolen her candy.
“Hey. What you doin’ all this fussin’ for?”
Picking her up from the table that she was sitting on, surrounded by cut-up strawberries, it was clear she didn’t give a damn about the fruit.
“Hi, Shio.”
I could feel Bahati’s eyes on me when I didn’t respond and continued to move from the kitchen to the nearby half bath.Flipping the light switch, I grabbed some Kleenex and slowly wiped Shya’s little nose.
“It’s okay. You ain't gotta be like that, Shya.”
Her cries grew louder.
“Aite, aite, aite. Come on, pretty baby.” Bouncing her in my arms, I dried her face completely. Once her face was clear, I tossed the Kleenex in the trash and continued bouncing her. “You too pretty for all that cryin’. Too pretty, little Shya. Come on… Let’s get you somethin’ to drink.”
Walking back into the kitchen, I made her a fresh cup of milk as Bahati watched me. I wasn’t sure if she was watching me because I was holding Shya or if she was watching because I was giving Shya more attention than I’d given her ass since they’d gotten here.
Handing Shya the cup of milk, she turned her head from left to right frantically while pushing the sippy cup away. I placed the cup on the counter and stared at the little girl in my arms. I wasn’t sure what the issue was, and I was starting to grow concerned. She was a crier. She was crying when I got up to work out this morning, and again when I left before Bahati and her emerged from the room they’d been occupying. The doctor had said she was okay, but now I was starting to believe otherwise. Giving her a visual assessment to see if there was anything missed, she looked up at me with wide, upside-down-turned eyes, long wet lashes, dark chocolate skin, and a head full of curls that were pulled into two ponytails.
She was a doll. The way her eyebrows were naturally spiky reminded me so much of my mother. The first lady never had to get her eyebrows arched or lash extensions, as she told it. She’d always get complimented on them. Shya had similar ones. She was darker than Bahati and me, so her deep chocolate skin had to come from somewhere. I was inclined to believe it came from my mother, who shared the same skin tone. They sharedso many features that it was uncanny, almost.I still hadn't told my mother that I was a father. Before I made that move, I needed the results. Although now, looking at her, it wasn’t really necessary. She was literally my mother in baby form.
But I ain’t no dumb motherfucker.
Finally calming from her cries, she blinked, slid her thumb into her mouth, and placed her head on my chest. The cocoa butter on her skin and the oils in her hair from the style Solana had done were just as soothing to me as her thumb was to her. My heart jerked against my chest as she heaved, signaling she was done with her crying session.
I rubbed a hand down her back as I watched her in the mirror. It was a sight—me holding a baby. I felt like I’d skipped chapters in my own autobiography. I hadn’t experienced the bliss of the positive pregnancy test, witnessed the pregnancy, or felt the anxiety of labor before Shya was born. Yet, I had a child in my arms who needed care, love, and guidance.
When she’d been asleep for at least twenty minutes, only then did I turn the light out and walk back through the kitchen. Bahati was on her tippy toes, reaching for a plate with her one arm, so I stopped beside her and got the plates down that she was reaching for. Her ass grazed my dick, which had just come down from the sight of Uriah. Unlike her, it didn’t get hard for Bahati.
“Thank you,” she said, giving a closed-lip smile.
Looking over her, my chest grew tight. Leaving her standing there, I walked to their room and placed Shya in the middle of the bed. The TV was already onGracie’s Corner, and I noticed how the bed was made, and nothing was out of place. Making sure Shya wouldn’t wake up now that she was solo, I turned the TV down but left it on and cracked the door.
As I walked down the hall on the way to my bedroom, I paused at Solana’s door. It had to be the liquor that had mereaching up and rubbing my chest. My pulse was going haywire. Grabbing the knob, I closed the door, then did an about-face and detoured back to the kitchen.
On the kitchen island was a plate and the matching cup. Bahati stood behind the counter chair that she’d pulled out. “Come sit.”
Taking the offered seat, I didn’t bother pushing the chair up to the table. Bahati tried and kept failing because there wasn’t shit she could do with all the muscle and weight on me that held the chair in place. Not bothering to assist her, I turned and grabbed her good arm carefully, bringing her between the table and me.Her long, thick legs were on display and oiled down in a familiar scent. The matching tank top she wore did nothing to hide her hardened nipples. Bahati was a beauty—a sight for sore eyes. And if she’d kept her shit up, I knew the pussy was still good. Her braids fit her face perfectly, and back then, I loved it when she wore them.
“I cooked what you had in the fridge; salmon, asparagus, and roasted garlic potatoes.”
The stuffed salmon not only looked amazing, but it smelled delightful. However, my attention wasn’t on the food. It was on Bahati.
Noticing my glare, her smile fell. “What? Is it Shya? Shio, she does that. She’s spoiled rotten. That DNA test scared her too. She likes to be held all day, and as you can see—“ She lifted her broken arm as far as she could. “I’m not able to do so at the moment. She needs to grow out of it anyway. I take the blame. It’s been her and me for so long…” Bahati blinked her glossy eyes.
“Aite, cool. I can understand that.” Licking my lips, I paused, letting my eyes roam Bahati’s frame again. “But what I can’t understand is why in the fuck you in her shit.”
Bahati drew her head back with a frown. “Who?”
Letting her arm go, I rubbed the sides of my mouth. “You know who, Bahati. Why the fuck are you wearingherclothes and inherbath oils?”
