Page 71 of When a Soul Cries

“There’s a little girl attached to her,” Mama continued. “A child who didn’t ask for none of whatever happened between her mama and daddy. And you don’t know where that man is. You don’t know if he walked away, if Sol walked away, if he dead, alive, crazy, locked up, married, or liable to come knocking on the door next week. You don’t know how that household became a single-parent household.”

Darius couldn’t find him. Not even a name.

Mama didn’t know I’d checked, and she damn sure wasn’t about to find out.

“You get serious with a woman who has a child, that baby eventually gets serious about you too,” she said. “She sees you. Gets used to you. Trusts you. Maybe starts depending on you. So don’t go walking into that baby’s life unless you know how to walk right.”

That one sat with me.

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Hell, I hadn’t let myself.

I’d been thinking about Sol. Her mouth. Her attitude. Her smile when she forgot she was supposed to be giving me one. Her crying. Her apartment. Her car.

I hadn’t really stopped to think about the fact that if whatever this was ever became something real, there would always be another person in the equation.

Her daughter.

Could I do that? Could I seriously date a woman with a child? Could I eventually take responsibility for a little girl who wasn’t biologically mine if things went that far? What happened if her father showed up?

And what the hell did it say about me that instead of those questions immediately making me want to run, I was actually sitting there considering the answers?

“I ain’t said I’m trying to marry the woman, Ma.”

“Good, because you met her yesterday. I’d drive over there and slap the shit out of you myself.”

I burst out laughing. “See, this why I don’t tell you nothing.”

“Yet here your ass is.”

I shook my head.

“Slow down, Rome,” she said, softer now. “Learn the woman. Learn her situation. Make sure whatever you’re doing, you’re doing for the right reason. And don’t get so busy trying to rescue her that you forget she might not want rescuing.”

That was Sugga.

She could cuss me out, make me laugh, and then say something that sat directly in the middle of my chest.

“I hear you.”

“Good. Now what was this Kai text me about Eastview?”

I groaned. “That nigga talks too much.”

“He’s my son. He’s supposed to tell me things.”

“So am I.”

“And yet I had to call and drag shit out of you. Continue.”

I told her what Kai and I had discussed. Setting aside some of the units that were still available. Income-based rent. Single mothers. Low-income families. Partnerships that could help people get stable instead of simply putting them in an apartment and leaving them there.

“And before you start,” I added, “Eastview is still opening in two weeks. We’re not rebuilding shit. The property is finished.”

“Okay, Mr. Developer. I know what finished means.”

I smiled.

Mama got quiet when I told her why I’d thought of it.