“For real, I hate working with lazy ass people,” I went on ranting, waving my hand. “I’m not saying I’m trying to be employee of the month or nothing but at least vacuum like you give a damn! Honestly, I’m just tired. I’m tired of cleaning up after people who live better than me and dragging myself out the bed just to smile through the mess. I’m thankful for the job, I am, but I’m over it, Von.”
Von slid into the chair across from me, face serious but eyes sparkling. “Kyns boo, you know you don’t have to work thishard; hell, probably noteveragain, if you’d just pick up the phone and tell that man he has a son.”
My stomach tightened.
That man… Merge.
The name alone could silence my thoughts.
Merge, as the streets called him, was powerful, and belonged to one of the richest, most ruthless families in the city. The type of family people lowered their voices when discussing and could probably buy Von’s entire apartment complex just because they liked the view.
That night we had sex I wasn’t in my right state of mind. I actedtotallyout of character. I wasn’t the “one-night stand” and “wake-up-and-pretend-it-never-happened” kind of woman. That night was supposed to be nothing but liquor, escape, and forgetting, but pain has a way of blurring lines you swore you’d never cross. Truth be told, we both were drunk—him drunker than me, clearly. I was running from heartbreak, and he apparently was drowning in something darker. It was supposed to be a forgettable hookup; one forgotten by morning and forgiven by prayer, not a life sentence. But what we try to erase, God sometimes writes in ink.
Maybe it was a mistake… maybe it was meant to happen… but either way, he gave me a heartbeat that made me rethink everything.
“Von, I told you that I’m not about to go chasing some man out of my league, waving a baby around like proof of purchase,” I said finally, shaking my head. “And even if did, I don’t know his number.”
Von gasped like I’d just told him Jesus quit doing miracles. “Girl, please! It’s 2026! If you don’t have his number, you better find that man’s Twitter, Instagram, or hell, his mama’s church Facebook page! Somebody in that bloodline posting something!And when you do find somebody, slide in the DM with a diaper emoji!”
I burst out laughing. “Von, stop! I swear you just say anything!”
“I’m just saying, if it wereme, I’d pop up at his next business meeting with the baby strapped to my chest like, ‘Sir, we need to talk about your little tax deduction!’”
I wiped a tear of laughter, still shaking my head. “Me and my son will be good. I just need to find a better job, that’s all.”
Von leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Kyns, I love you, girl—I really do—but I hate how stubborn you are sometimes. It’s one thing not to let a man love you, but this is a man who could lovemetoo, and that’s where I draw the line!”
I chuckled. “And here I was thinking you were about to be serious for once.”
“I am! Hear me out, boo! You’re sitting on generationalopportunity! We’re talkin’ ‘bout a man who could changeourtax bracket! Do you know how nicemylife would be with a rich baby daddy in the mix? We’d have matching robes,I’dbe y’all personal chef,andI could finally get that Versace luggage set I been manifesting… the one with the gold zipper, not the knockoff one from T.J. Maxx. Girl, we’d be pulling up to brunch in style, valet knowing us by name and mimosas waiting on the table!”
He fanned himself dramatically.
“And don’t even get me started on vacations! Baby, I’d have my toes in Dubai sand so fast they’d think I was part of the scenery! You out here stressing about work when you could be stressing about which yacht you wanna be getting backshots on! I mean, come on now! God didn’t give you them hips for hotel shifts!”
I nearly choked on my own laughter. “Von!”
He just snapped his fingers. “What? I’m trying to see you blessed and highly favored, sis, not broke and highly tired!”
I laughed so hard my chest ached a little. “Who’s to say he’d take care of meorhis child?”
Von pointed at me like a lawyer delivering closing arguments.
“It’s worth the try, honey! You never know! What if hewantsa child? Or hell,needsone? You know how those fancy families be needing heirs and legacies and generationalwhatevers.Girl, you might be holding the golden ticket and don’t even know it!” Suddenly, his tone lightened. “All jokes aside… would you really want Mysun to grow upnotknowing his father? I’m not saying go chasing no man, but don’t rob your son of the chance to know where he comes from either. And this ain’t one of them ‘so what’s your plan?’ speeches. Nah. You and my godson locked in. Ain’t no leaving unless you’re taking me with y’all. Just don’t eat the last honey bun again unless you trying to fight.”
He paused, smirking.
“That being said, you gon’ have to start contributing to the nighttime struggle on your own, boo. I’m putting in myone-daynotice. Mysun thinks 3 a.m. is party hour. That boy doesn’t sleep. He stayed up last night for three hours giggling at the ceiling fan like it told him a joke. Then had thenerveto stare at me like I was supposed to join in on the entertainment. Matter of fact, you need to go wake him upnowwwwww,” he dragged. “I want to stand at the edge of his crib and stare at him the wayhestared at me all night. I want him to wake up and feelmyeyes on him for once… just stand there like,“How does it feel, huh?”
Some nights when Von didn’t have to work, he’d roll out of bed without a single complaint, rock Mysun through every fuss, and change and feed him like it was his full-time job. There had been times I’d woken up, and he’d be sitting on the couch with Mysun curled up against him, both knocked out with a bottle dangling from my baby’s lips and a burp rag still on Von’s shoulder. Vonnever said it, but I knew he was tired too. Yet, he still showed up for my son as if he was his own.
I chuckled. “I will do no such thing! And you better not either! And wasn’t ityouwho volunteered for part-time night duty shift?”
“Volunteered?” he shrieked. “Girl, I was tricked… bamboozled… hoodwinked by a pair of pretty eyes and postpartum hormones! You said, “Can you watch him for me… just for the night?” and suddenly I’m the overnight shift manager ofBabyland!I be in here doing bottle inventory, diaper quality control, and crisis negotiation when he drops his pacifier! But I do it ‘cause I love y’all… even when he pees on me.”
I grinned. “We love you too. You just have to sing to him; he loves that.”
“Last night I sang every nursery rhyme I know… and made up two! Seriously, I gave him a bottle, rocked him, sang two verses of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ and even hummed a gospel medley. He still had the nerve to grunt like I forgot the encore.”
