Page 23 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

As soon as I stepped outside, reality started to set in.

I was nervous as hell.

Not because I didn’t want kids.

I did.

I always had.

The thought of being a mother had crossed my mind more times than I could count, especially after losing my first pregnancy in high school.

The memory still hurt if I thought about it too long.

Back then, everything was falling apart around me. The stress, the pressure, the constant chaos—it had all become too much.

And in the middle of it, I lost my baby.

Swallowing hard, I tightened my grip on my purse.

Maybe that was another reason I was scared.

Because if I was pregnant… I didn't know if I was ready to let myself get excited.

The drive to Walmart felt longer than it actually was. My fingers tapped against the steering wheel while my mind ran in circles. One minute I told myself I was overthinking, and the next, I wondered if something was really going on. Maybe I was tired. Maybe it was stress. Hell, maybe it was all the coffee I drank. Whatever it was, by the time I pulled into the parking lot, I still hadn't convinced myself of a damn thing.

I sat there staring at the building for a second before letting out a long breath.

“Girl, get it together.”

The words did absolutely nothing.

Grabbing my purse, I climbed out and headed inside. The second the automatic doors opened, cool air hit my face. I grabbed a cart and started walking.

My plan was simple: get the test, pay for it, and leave.

Instead, I somehow ended up standing in the snack aisle, staring at a bag of chips.

Then another one.

Then another one.

“What the hell am I doing?”

Shaking my head, I tossed a random bag into the cart and kept walking. A few aisles later, I grabbed a candle, some body wash, and a pack of gum. None of which I actually came there for.

Every time I got close to the pregnancy test aisle, my feet carried me somewhere else. At one point, I found myself looking at throw pillows.

Throw pillows.

I didn't need no damn throw pillows.

I sucked my teeth and pushed the cart forward.

“Stop being scary.”

A few minutes later, I finally found myself standing in front of the aisle. My stomach immediately tightened.

Rows and rows of pregnancy tests stared back at me. Different brands. Different boxes. Different prices. All of them carried answers I wasn't sure I wanted.