Page 133 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

“Shit, I can.”

I burst out laughing as he continued studying the picture like he was looking at a full-blown portrait of our child.

And just like that, some of the heaviness sitting on my chest lifted. I was still scared. I probably would be for a while. But Kyrie was right about one thing. I didn’t have to be scared by myself.

After sitting there for a few minutes, Kyrie finally put the truck in reverse and backed out of the parking lot.

I leaned my head against the seat, feeling lighter than I had when we first walked into the doctor’s office. The fear was still there. I didn’t expect that shit to magically disappear overnight, but hearing our baby’s heartbeat and finally telling Kyrie what had been weighing on me helped more than I thought it would.

I glanced over at him.

“Where are we going?”

“To get something to eat.”

“I thought we were going home.”

“We are.”

I waited.

“After we eat,” he added.

I laughed. “Kyrie, I’m not even that hungry.”

“Okay.”

I frowned. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “You still eating.”

“Boy, you cannot force me to eat.”

“Who forcing you?” He glanced over at me. “I'm taking my wife to get some food. What you do when we get there is your business.”

“Knowing damn well you’re going to be sitting there watching me.”

“Probably.”

I shook my head and turned toward the window. This man was a mess.

By the time we made it to the restaurant, I had stopped arguing. Truthfully, I could eat a little something. I just wasn’t about to tell Kyrie that and have his ass thinking he was right.

Once we were seated, I looked over the menu while Kyrie sat across from me, studying the ultrasound picture for what had to be the hundredth time since we left the doctor’s office.

I slowly lowered my menu.

“Kyrie.”

“Hmm?”

“How many times are you going to look at that picture?”

“As many times as I fucking want.”

I laughed. “You can barely even see anything.”

“I can see my baby.”