I watched her soap opera faithfully, and I didn’t remember them making her character pregnant or even filming her at angles that could hide a pregnancy. Her conceited ass was a good actress, but the only reason I watched was to figure out how she managed to pull a man like Reason. She was pretty, but in my eyes, looks were all she had to offer.
“No, Novah, she ain’t pregnant,” Basheer replied, leaving me even more confused.
I sat up, waiting for him to elaborate, but we ended up in a staring contest.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m waiting for you to explain. You just said Saje ain’t pregnant, and I ain’t seen her pregnant on the show. So, what kind of gender reveal are they having?”
“You be obsessing over Saje. I just noticed that shit.”
“What are you talking about? Obsessed over that stuck-up woman? Please.”
“Then stop acting like it. You talk shit about her but stay watching every episode she’s in.”
I glared at Basheer, annoyed that I hadn’t hidden my disdain better, and even more annoyed that he was calling me out.
Thinking quickly, I said, “I don’t watch Sins of Miami because of Saje. I’ve been watching since before she evenappeared on there.” I would say anything to defend myself. I wasn’t about to mess up my chances of becoming Mrs. Buchanan.
“The choice is yours. I extended the invite. It’s up to you if you want to be my plus one or not.”
“Yes, I’ll be your plus one.” The words rushed out, then I softened my tone. I wasn’t about to argue over Saje of all people.
This just confirmed it for me. Basheer had to be planning something. I was more convinced than ever that he was setting up an unforgettable night. The excitement washed away every negative feeling I had.
“Coo. I’ll let you know what time you gotta be ready.”
“Okay. What do you want me to wear, baby?”
“Just wear something nice, beautiful.”
I smiled from ear to ear.
As soon as Basheer left the room, I grabbed my phone and started booking my hair, nails, and makeup appointments. I texted Tyesha and Mrs. Kitts that we needed an emergency meeting. They were basically my personal stylists.
While I was in the middle of booking appointments and making calls, Basheer’s phone rang loud enough for me to hear it from his bedroom. I listened as he rushed to silence it.
“Hello,” he said before the door shut to his man cave.
I tossed my phone on the bed and quietly slipped away, walking on my tiptoes toward his man cave.
Usually, I wasn’t one to eavesdrop on my man. Ever.
But this time? I needed confirmation.
I pressed my ear against the door, squinting like that would somehow help me hear better.
I heard Basheer chuckle before turning the TV on.
Shit.
I leaned closer, trying to tune out the noise. A few seconds later, I caught his voice through the commercials. It was low, but clear enough.
What he said next made me gasp.What in the entire fuck?!I slapped my hand over my mouth.
Silence.
Then his footsteps came fast, straight toward the door.
