Page 185 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

“Hold on.”

I closed my eyes.

Here we go.

“What is it?” the doctor asked.

Kyrie pointed toward the monitor.

“That’s the head?”

“Yes.”

He stared at it.

“Why that muthafucka look so big?”

“Kyrie!”

The doctor burst out laughing.

“What?” He looked at me. “I’m asking a real question.”

“Don’t call our baby’s head a muthafucka!”

“I ain’t call the baby one. I said the head⁠—”

“That’s the same damn thing!”

“Aight, my bad.” He looked back at the screen. “But is it supposed to look like that?”

“Yes, Dad. Everything you’re seeing is normal.”

I turned my head toward him with a smirk.

“See?”

“Aight, cool.”

His ass stayed quiet for all of ten seconds.

“How big the baby supposed to be right now?”

The doctor answered him, and Kyrie nodded like he was taking mental notes.

“And can you tell how tall it’s gon’ be?”

I covered my face.

The doctor laughed again. “Not quite yet.”

“I’m six-four, so I’m just saying. I know my seed ain’t finna come out short.”

“Oh, my God, Kyrie.”

“What?”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop smiling.