“’Preciate it, Kool.”
Strolling past Christian, he headed for the door just as Tiara and Tulla were stepping inside. While his former lover looked as if she’d seen a ghost, Tiara lit up with a contagious smile.
“Moose!”
“What’s up, lil mama,” Moose greeted her, examining her inquisitive face and taking in all their similarities.
She had his nose and his mouth in his opinion, but he could be biased. Tulla placed a protective hand on Tiara’s shoulder and tried to steer her away from Moose, but the little girl didn’t want to budge.
“What are you eating? Did you get pickles? I love the big pickle slices!”
“Fa sho! I always make Kool throw in an extra order.” He leaned in to whisper to her, “Whenever you come in, just tell Kool to throw some extra ones on your order and add it to my tab.”
“That’s not necessary,” Tulla said through gritted teeth.
“You want to go there with me right now, Chief?”
Moose brought his straw to his lips and sipped his drink smugly when Christian appeared at his side with their bag of food. Tension filled the space, but Tiara was oblivious to whatever the adults had going on.
“What are you two doing in here?” Chrisitan asked.
“You were taking too long, Daddy,” Tiara answered, and the word ‘daddy’ did something to Moose.
A big part of him was angry, but the other part of him showcased something he didn’t expect. Hurt. Somehow a woman he didn’t give shit about found a way to gut him like nobody else could. This was his little girl standing in front of him, and she didn’t know him from the next nigga on the street. Moose’s dark eyes drifted up into Tulla's, and the bitch looked like she wanted to stop breathing.
“I also thought about dessert. Tiara wants a piece of that peach pie.” Tulla perked up, a false smile claiming her lips as Tiara looked up at Christian. “Why don’t you take Tiara to the car, and I’ll order it?”
Hesitant, her husband’s dark gaze gamboled from her to Moose before he finally nodded in agreement. Extending his free hand for Tiara, he smiled at her adoringly. It was obvious she meant the world to him too. Moose couldn’t fault that. She made it easy to fall in love with her.
“Bye, Moose.” She waved happily, and Christian nudged her toward the door, locking eyes with Tulla before exiting.
“This is the last time we’re having this conversation!” she hissed the minute her husband and daughter were gone.
Fire burned behind her amber globes. Moose stepped forward, his Tom Ford cologne toying with her senses. His eyes were sharp and focused. Unlike the last few times she’d seen him when she now knew he was more than likely high out of his mind. The rehab stint was public knowledge, so there was no escaping that.
“Nah, fuck that.” He shook his head. “Get ready to be seeing a whole lot more of me, bitch. You lied for eight fucking years. That’s my fucking daughter, and you ain’t keeping me from her no more.”
“I… she is not?—”
“Save that bullshit.” Moose sucked his teeth, waving her off. “Talk to your husband. See you in court.” He circled around her to the door, leaving Tulla fuming as she glared after him.
“Kong, this really isn’t necessary,” Ayla complained after signing in at her doctor’s office for a follow-up appointment.
He and her sister both insisted that she go get checked out after not having had medical attention for so long. Reluctantly, she agreed. Pausing, her eyes skimmed the waiting room for a place to sit. The far-left corner was empty. Only a woman and her infant son were seated. Ayla found herself wandering in that direction with Kong behind her. She lowered herself into one of the waiting chairs, and Kong took the seat beside her. The receptionist gave her some paperwork to fill out, so Ayla crossed one leg over the other and completed it to the best of her knowledge.
When she was done, she tucked the pen into the clipboard and glanced Kong’s way. He was typing something on his phone with his face bunched up in a serious scowl.
“Everything okay?”
“Just some shit I need to take care of tonight.” He sighed, finished his message, and tucked his phone into his pocket.
Ayla was nervous about being poked and prodded. She felt like she was fine, but she couldn’t be sure after giving birth. She tucked her hands into the pocket of her hoodie and waited impatiently, looking at the digital clock on the wall every so often. The baby across the way let out a cry, and Ayla froze. Her maternal instinct kicked into overdrive as she watched the woman try to soothe the infant boy. Internally, she wanted to scream, but what would that solve?
Kong noticed her shift immediately and leaned toward her. “You okay?”
She nodded. Too fast. Too hard to convince him of it. It was a lie. Across from them, the woman rocked the tiny baby against her shoulder. He couldn’t be more than a month or so old, so small and fussy, with a little blue cap covering his head of thick curls. His mother rocked, making little soothing noises as her eyes drifted across to Ayla and Kong. Something flickered through them when she canvassed Kong, so attentively focused on Ayla.
“Kong?” she guessed. “You’re Kong Blackmoor, right?” she asked, brows lifting in question.
