Page 126 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

“They ain't gotta understand shit.”

Sianni dropped her head.

“Kyrie…”

The interviewer laughed. “I had a feeling you were going to say something like that.”

“I'm serious.” I looked back at Sianni. “Everybody so busy trying to figure out if this shit real, how we got here, who did what, who she was with, and all this other bullshit.”

I tightened my fingers around hers.

“But none of that shit matters when we go home.”

Her eyes stayed on mine.

“I know what she is to me.”

“And what's that?” the interviewer asked.

I didn't take my eyes off Sianni.

“My wife. My family. The woman carrying my child.” I paused. “The woman I choose every fucking day.”

Sianni blinked a few times.

Oh, shit.

“Don't start crying.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Your eyes getting watery.”

“Kyrie, shut up.”

I laughed and pulled her hand toward me, pressing my lips against it.

The interviewer chuckled. “I think that's probably the perfect place to end.”

“Good,” I said. “Before her ass starts crying for real.”

Sianni snatched her hand away.

“I cannot stand you.”

“Yeah, aight.”

I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Love you too, ma.”

She tried to keep that little attitude on her face, but the smile that broke through gave her ass away.

And just like that, the cameras stopped rolling.

Tuesday morning came faster than I wanted it to, and by the time I started getting dressed, my nerves were already all over the damn place.

I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing my shirt down before my eyes dropped to my stomach. There wasn’t anything there yet. No bump. No real change anybody else would notice.