Talia:My back is killing me! ?? I was gonna pay for a massage, but maybe your hands would work better. Lol.
I stared at the screen for three full seconds.
The fuck?
I even looked around the inside of the SUV afterward, just to make sure that text hadn’t been meant for another nigga and accidentally wandered into my phone.
Before I could respond, another message came through.
Talia:The baby is stressing me out already! ??
I rubbed my jaw slowly.
That baby wasn’t even big enough to know what stress was, yet somehow, she had already assigned it blame and requested a couples massage.
I finally typed back.
Me:Take some Tylenol and lay down somewhere.
I hit send, then paused.
Damn.
The baby.
I frowned before sending another message.
Me:Actually, don’t take anything until you check what’s safe during pregnancy.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Talia:Aww. Look at you being concerned about little ol’ me.
I was sure the mug I sported could crack a mirror.
I wasn’t bit more concerned abouther; I was worried about the tiny human depending on a woman who acted like she belonged under observation half the damn time.
If Talia was the same girl from the club, then that statement about good pussy being attached to crazy women might’ve actually been a scientific fact.
Before Talia could send anything else, I locked the phone, grabbed my keys, and headed inside my parents’ house already exhausted.
People usually got nervous around me, not the other way around. But that evening, I felt the weight of walking into that house knowing one conversation could either calm everything down or make my life significantly more complicated.
The smell of my mama’s cooking filled the air immediately while soft jazz played somewhere deeper in the house. Everything looked polished, like always.
“Well look who finally remembered he has parents,” Mama teased the second she spotted me walking in.
“Chill, Ma. We talk every day.”
She rolled her eyes. “Talking on the phone and physically showing up are twodifferentthings, Mayzen. Prison inmates talk on phones too.”
Mama was probably the only person who still called me by my government name without fear, hesitation, or needing permission first.
I loosened the collar of my shirt lightly. “Damn. Well… when you put it like that, I’ll make sure to come over more often.”
“You better.”
“I will. I promise.”
