Page 67 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

I could tell he was mad as fuck because he always wanted them around me, but that didn’t have anything to do with what was going on right now.

My grip tightened around the phone.

“Kyrie, I’m fi⁠—”

“Location, Sianni.”

I closed my eyes and gave him the name of the restaurant.

“I’ll be there.”

The line went dead. And I stared at the screen for a long second before lowering the phone. Drayla already had her purse in her hand.

“Eat a couple of bites if you can.” She reached for her wallet. “I’m gonna pay, then we’re getting the fuck outta here before this place turns into a circus.”

“Nawl, we gon’ stay here because Kyrie asked me to.” I shook my head.

I didn’t want to just up and leave, and Kyrie had told me to stay put.

“Look, sis, I don’t think that is a good idea, and I damn sure don’t think it’s a good idea for Kyrie to come in here clowning,” she replied.

“I don’t think it is either, but try telling his ass that.” I shook my head.

I learned quickly that there was no such thing as telling Kyrie to stay put, because he was going to do what he wanted whether he was a football player or not. He didn’t give a damn; he had his own damn mind.

The restaurant doors swung open, but I didn’t look up. I already knew who it was. The energy in the room shifted instantly. Conversations softened, heads turned, and from the corner of my eye, I caught a couple of people lifting their phones.

Kyrie strode through the restaurant like he owned the damn place, with two of his security team following a few steps behind him. He didn’t acknowledge the whispers and didn’t glance at the people staring. His eyes locked on me from the moment he walked through the door.

Drayla looked over her shoulder before letting out a quiet sigh.

“Here go your hardheaded ass husband.”

Before I could answer, Kyrie was standing beside the table. He pulled the empty chair out and sat next to me.

“You okay?”

I nodded automatically.

“I’m fine.”

He stared at me for a long second.

“Nawl.” His voice stayed low. “Look at me.”

I lifted my eyes, and his thumb brushed beneath one of them.

“You been crying.”

My lip trembled.

“I’m okay.”

“No, you ain’t. Walk me through Walmart.”

I frowned. “What?”

“From the time you pulled into the parking lot.”