Page 132 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

“Shit, most things I can.”

“But not this.”

That shut him up.

I watched his expression change as what I said settled in.

“You can’t promise me nothing is going to happen,” I said softly. “You can’t make that fear disappear just because you want it to.”

Kyrie stared at me for a few seconds before nodding.

“Aight.”

I blinked. “Aight?”

“Yeah.” He lifted my hand and pressed his lips against it. “Maybe I can’t fix that shit.”

Well, damn. I wasn’t expecting him to admit that so easily.

“But you ain’t gotta sit around scared by your damn self either.” His eyes stayed on mine. “That part I can do something about.”

My eyes immediately started burning.

“Kyrie…”

“Nawl, don’t start that crying shit.” He reached over and wiped underneath my eye before a tear could even fall. “We already heard lil’ man or lil’ mama in there going crazy. We taking that shit one appointment at a time.”

I smiled. “One appointment at a time.”

“And next time something got you scared, tell me.”

“Okay.”

His eyes narrowed.

“I’m serious, Sianni.”

“I said okay, Big Daddy.”

“Aight then.”

He finally released my hand long enough to reach for the ultrasound picture we had brought out with us.

I watched him stare at it for a few seconds before his lips slowly curved into a grin.

“This baby got my head.”

I frowned. “Kyrie, that baby looks like a damn bean.”

“Nawl, look.” He held the picture closer to me and pointed. “Right there. That’s my shit.”

I stared at the ultrasound, then at him.

“You are so full of shit.”

“I’m telling you.”

“You can’t even see a head good enough to say that!”