Page 26 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

“Babe.” I called again. This time, one eye cracked open before the other.

“Kyrie, baby, I need to talk to you.”

The sleep disappeared from his face almost instantly, and he pushed himself up, rubbing his hands over his face before looking me over.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep. “You straight?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just need to talk to you about something.”

“Aight.” His eyes drifted down to the stick in my hand. “What’s that?”

I looked down at it before meeting his gaze again. He leaned back against the couch.

“Aight, bae, what’s good?”

“How would you feel about having a baby with me?”

His eyebrows damn near touched his hairline.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“A logical one.”

He let out a humorless laugh.

“Logical, my ass.” He shook his head. “Why the fuck would you wake me up and ask me some shit like that?”

“Because you know the situation we’re in. I’m supposed to be out here playing a role.”

He sucked his teeth and shook his head.

“Man, here we go with this shit again.”

“Kyrie, we both know what it is.”

“Yeah, we do.” His eyes locked with mine. “But damn, you really can’t tell a nigga done fell for your ass?”

“I didn’t say you haven’t.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “But think about it, Kyrie. What are we supposed to do after this gig is up?”

“Stay the fuck married. The fuck you mean?” he snapped, his voice booming through the room.

I damn near jumped out of my skin. My heart stumbled against my chest as my eyes flew to him. For a second, all I could do was blink.

I knew Kyrie had a temper. I’d seen flashes of it. But this? This was different. The intensity burning behind his eyes stole every comeback sitting on the tip of my tongue. My mouth parted, but nothing came out. I just sat there staring at him, trying to figure out how a simple question had turned into this.

“Kyrie, why are you yelling at me? I asked you a question. ’Cause I’m trying to figure out what this is supposed to look like when all of this is over.”

“Because there ain’t no ‘after,’ Sianni. You keep talking like this shit got an expiration date, and it don’t.”

I blinked, trying to process what he said.

“You actually want to stay married?”

“The fuck I look like? You think I'd let you get this close to me, just so some paperwork can separate us? Nawl, I meant every vow and every word that came out of my fucking mouth,” he replied. “We locked in this shit, Sianni. I’m not going nowhere, and neither are you. And now that you’re carrying my fucking baby, you really ain’t going nowhere. Shit, I don’t know if I really want you to go on this trip now.”

“What?” I bucked my eyes at him. “Kyrie, that is not fair.”