“I just thought I would be the one having your first child,” she sniffed, lying through her teeth.
Milania would rather chew on hand grenades then ruin her shape by having a baby.
“Now, because of her, I don’t get that opportunity.” She looked up at him somberly and blinked so a tear would fall.
“Yo’, don’t even think like that.” Angel kissed her forehead.
“But it’s true.” Milania up’d the ante by burying her face into his chest and shrugging her shoulders profusely.
“I understand what you sayin’, but none of that matters to me. We can have as many babies as you like. I just want us to be OK. Tell me we gon’ be OK.” He pushed her head back so he could look at her face.
Milania swallowed hard and willed herself not to laugh. She couldn’t believe her guilt trip was actually working.
“We gon’ be okay,” she whispered.
“Tell me you love me.”
“I love me,” she giggled.
“Aww, okay. Somebody got jokes.”
“I’m just playin’. You know I love you.”
“Prove it.” He kissed her so hard that she couldn’t breathe.
But Milania loved it when he got rough; the rougher the better. They were there in the middle of the living area, and Milania and Angel went at it like two wild animals. Clothes were flying everywhere as their tongues tangoed in each other’s mouths. Fully naked, Angel anxiously forced her to the floor. With Milania on all fours, he quickly put on a condom and inserted himself deep within her walls. A heart-pounding thrust from his pelvis caused her to scream out his name.
“Angel!” Milania moaned, overwhelmed by his size and force.
Angel was a ravaging beast. When making love, he took no mercy, only prisoners. In that moment, he was like a hungry lion searching for his prey and Milania was his victim. Her smooth caramel skin taunted him. He couldn’t touch it or kiss it enough. Thrusting his hips, he dug deeper inside her warmness in search of something that would make him feel whole again. Something that would take away the uncertainty of his day. But what he often searched for he never found. With Milania, it was all pleasurable but never fulfilling, so Angel took both of her legs into his hands and flipped her over. Milania’s glazed-over eyes gazed back at him. Her eyes pleaded with him to give her more.
Panting, she parted her legs wider, aching for him to reenter her again. When he did she came alive. Every time he plunged his massive, hard dick inside her wet pussy, whimpers of satisfaction fled from her soft lips. Matching his rhythm, Milania rocked slowly to an imaginary beat. The plush carpet burned her butt, but that only added to her experience.
Feeling a nut build in the tip of his dick, Angel arched his back and leaned over Milania. Gripping her hands tightly, he suffocated her with another spellbinding kiss. Angel was moving at such a fast pace that Milania could no longer keep up. Her body was succumbing to the height of sexual bliss. With one more gratifying push and pull of gravity, Angel and Milania released a roaring scream into the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Reeling from their romp, Angel fell over onto his back. His shoulders brushed against Milania’s as they collected their breath.
“That was sinful.” Milania ran her tongue across her top lip.
“I agree.” Angel breathed heavily.
After a brief moment of silence, Angel turned his head and looked at Milania.
“So what now?” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“You gon’ ride wit’ me or what?”
“I guess . . . I mean,” Milania rubbed her forehead. “This whole situation is just out of control. I really just feel at this point that since Dylan is gonna be in our life that she and I should just sit down and get to know each other.”
“I don’t know about that.” Angel shook his head.
“What? Is there something else I should know?” She cocked her head back.
“Nah, I just don’t know if Dylan gon’ wanna do all that.”
“Well, hey, at least I’m puttin’ it out there.”
“Look, I’ll see what I can do.” Angel pulled her on top of him and hugged her.
With her face pressed up against his chest, Milania smiled like a Cheshire cat. As long as she kept her scorned fiancée act up, she’d have Angel wrapped around her finger. The next thing on her list was getting Dylan out of her life for good.
“First the Fat Boys break up, now every day I wake up, somebody got a problem with Hov.”
Jay-Z, “Ain’t No Love”
4
For most women, being pregnant was an exciting adventure. They’re filled with excitement and patiently awaiting their bundle of joy, but Dylan honestly couldn’t wait for the process to be over. She desperately wanted to be a part of the beaming expectant mothers’ club, but Dylan still wasn’t even sure what type of mother she would be.
What if she turned out to be an even worse mother than her own? She and her mother Candy weren’t even on speaking terms due to the fact that Candy stole $50,000 from her trust fund in order to launch an edible dildo company entitled Eat a Dick. But not speaking to her mother was nothing new. Throughout her entire life, her relationship with her mother had been strained. Candy loved only a few things in life: her whisky, her men, and her money. Dylan, somewhere in between all of that, tried her best to fit in, to no avail.
Because of her mother, Dylan had little to no relationship with her father growing up. She only got to see him twice a year because Candy was determined to pay him back for divorcing and leaving her for a younger woman. Candy would never admit to anyone, not even herself, that she was the reason her marriage went sour. She never acknowledged anything that she did wrong, especially the deep scar of betrayal that she’d etched in Dylan’s heart.
When Dylan was five, Candy and her father divorced, and after that, Candy remarried five times. Because of her innate ability to be alone at the age of ten, Dylan was almost molested by one of Candy’s many boyfriends. After that, most mothers would have tried to clean up their act but not Candy. Three weeks later, they were in another city, and Candy was under a new man. To escape her mother’s craziness, by the time Dylan was thirteen, she was going to nightclubs and smoking weed.
After years of being subjected to Candy’s lifestyle, when she turned eighteen, she moved in with her father permanently. Sadly, they only had a few years together before he died and left Dylan with a multimillion-dollar trust fund. Her father was the CEO of his family’s well-known brewery company. By the age of twenty-eight, Dylan blew the entire thing.
So, suffice it to say, the last thing Dylan wanted to do was suck at being a mom. She wanted to be like Clair Huxtable or Gloria from
Modern Family
, superstylish and sexy. But every time Dylan looked in the mirror, all she saw was a blob.
From the time she woke up to the moment her head hit the pillow at night she felt blah. Whenever no one was around she found herself crying. She didn’t even get excited when it was time for her monthly doctor’s visits. This was not how she envisioned herself as a soon-to-be mother. The only thing that seemed to make her a little happy was perusing Web sites like Shopbop, Neiman Marcus, and Bergdorf Goodman. But that happiness faded once she remembered that even the clearance department was too pricey for her.
That afternoon, after a long, uneventful day at the bakery, she came home to find Angel, of all people, on her steps. He was the last person she wanted to see but was the one person who made her remotely want to smile. Dylan stepped out of her used 2006 Saturn Ion and into the crisp air and inhaled deeply. She was not in the mood for no bullshit. Plus, she was tired and ready to lay the hell down. Her feet were killin’ her, and she could almost swear her ankles were swollen.
Angel stood up and dusted the back of his Levi jeans off. He and Dylan immediately connected eyes. A smile a mile wide etched across his heart. He hated that she had that affect on him even after all the time that had passed.
“What’s up wit’ you?” he asked, gazing down at her face.
Remember you do not like him. He is the enemy,
Dylan thought.
“You’re a sexy beast of a man, and I salivate over you when I’m eating prime ribs.”
“What?” he grinned, caught off guard.
OMG, did that really just happen?
she thought, clasping her hands over her mouth, paralyzed in embarrassment.
Just pretend like you’re asleep. Just pretend like you’re asleep.
“You a’ight?” He eyed her suspiciously.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Dylan played it off like nothing had happened.
“Yo’, you buggin’,” Angel chuckled. “But, uh, I just swung through so I could check on you. You know—see if you was good.”
“I’m fine, you?”
“I’m good,” he laughed.
“What the hell is so funny?”
“You.”
“Me?” she pointed at her chest. “I didn’t I know was a joke.”
“No, but your uniform is,” Angel continued to laugh.
A year and half ago, Dylan would never have been caught dead in a uniform unless she was doing some sort of sexual role play.
“You are such a hater,” Dylan grinned, waving him off. “There’s nothin’ wrong with my uniform.”
“I’m just fuckin’ wit’ you. You doing yo’ thing, Ma. I’m proud of you.” Angel stared deep into her eyes, wondering if the feelings he secretly harbored for her would ever fade away.
“Business good?” he asked trying to remain neutral.
“You know it’s wintertime and I am four months pregnant, so I think I should be going in the house before I catch hypoglycemic.” Dylan did her best to avoid the conversation. She didn’t feel like explaining that she blew at being an entrepreneur.
“You mean hypothermia?” he eyed her.
“Yeah, that too. You coming in?”
“Nah,” Angel shook his head and laughed. “I just wanted to check wit’ you real quick. I got a conference call wit’ my agent in thirty minutes.”
“Oh, okay,” Dylan responded slightly disappointed.
“But I did wanna find out when your next doctor’s appointment was.”
“At the beginning of next month. We’ll be learning the sex of the baby. What—you wanna come?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good,” Dylan gave him a warm smile.
“I want you to understand, even though I’m gettin’ married—”
“Ugh, please, don’t ruin the moment,” Dylan cut him off, covering her ears. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Angel getting married.
“Nah, seriously,” he pulled her hands down, “you and the baby are my number-one priority.”
“I don’t think Milania would appreciate you sayin’ that.”
“Milania understands. As a matter of fact, she’s fully on board and wants to be involved.”
“Involved?”
Dylan screwed up her face. “Involved like what?”
“Chill. She just wants to have lunch wit’ you so y’all can get to know each another better.”
“I know enough about Miss Thang. I’m good.”
“C’mon, Dylan, for me.” He held her hand close to his heart.
Dylan knew deep down inside that his romantic gesture really didn’t mean a thing, but for a split second, she imagined that Angel was still hers and that in that moment he would take her into his arms, kiss her on the lips passionately, and they would ride off into the rosy sunset. But then, reality kicked in and she remembered that he was in love with another and she was four months pregnant and miserable.
“Okay. I’ll go, but she better not start trippin’.”
“I promise she won’t.” Angel kissed her on the cheek. “This is gonna be good for all of us.”
“Mmm-hmm, we’ll see.”
Out of everything in life outside of her man, her Louboutins, and her friends, Billie loved her children the most. They were her pride and joy, and if need be, she would gladly lay down her life for them. Billie stood in front of the window, patiently awaiting their arrival. It was Sunday, and the kids were returning from their routine weekend trip to their father’s house. She couldn’t wait to see their little chubby faces. Finally, Cain’s car pulled up. Billie couldn’t get to the door fast enough. Seconds later, after Cain hugged and kissed the kids good-bye, they were walking through the door. Billie’s children were absolutely adorable.
The twins, Kenzie and Kaylee, were nine going on thirty. They possessed their mother’s timeless good looks and sharp tongue. Both girls’ skin was the shade of roasted almond butter, and they both had long, wild, curly brown hair. Kyrese, on the other hand, was eleven with the color of rich cocoa. He rocked a low cut and a diamond stud earring in his ear.
“Hi, Ma,” he spoke.
“Hi. How was your weekend?” Billie kissed him on the cheek.
“It was all right. I mostly just played the game by myself.”
“Oh,” Billie replied, hoping that Cain would’ve done something productive with him.
“Well, what did you two ladies do?” Billie turned to her daughters.
“Where do I begin?” Kaylee put down her overnight bag in an overly dramatic way and stood back on one leg. “Mama-Mama-Mama-Mama. Giiiiiiiiirl, let me tell you! We been tryin’ to rock wit’ this whole custody thing on the strength of you, but yo’ girl, Becky, is trippin’.”
“Trippin’, like what?” Billie said, ready to pounce.
“Mama,” Kenzie joined in, “the chick must think she Alicia Keys ’cause she done went and did the unthinkable. Now brace yourself. Wait for it, wait for it,” Kenzie did her best Steve Irwin impression. “She asked us to call her ‘Mama.’ Boom! There it is, I said. It’s out there, can’t take it back.”
“Oh,
no
, she didn’t.” Billie drew her head back.
“Oh,
yes
, she did.” Kenzie rolled her neck.
“But don’t worry, Mama. We shut that mess down like a bad Ferris wheel,” Kaylee assured her. “I told her, ‘Look-a-here, lady,’” she stomped her foot and pointed her finger. “My mama is at 5555 Fifteenth Street. And as far as we are concerned, you ain’t nothin’ but a stranger up in this house.”
“Okay, y’all go on upstairs and put yo’ stuff up,” Billie fumed. “Mama gotta wreck shop.”
Once the kids were out of sight and out of earshot, Billie went into the kitchen and dialed Cain’s house number.
“Hello?” Becky answered.
“I always knew you had a screw loose, but apparently you missing a nut and a bolt too—” Billie hissed, “’cause you done lost yo’ damn mind.”
“Excuse me?”
Becky snapped.
“Oh, honey, you’re excused! Let me make one thing clear so we never have to have this conversation again! Kaylee, Kenzie, and Kyrese are my kids! Not yours but mine! I pushed they bad asses out so I at least get the consolation prize of them callin’
me
mama, and not some jump-off that done finagled her way into becoming my ex-husband’s wife! If you want somebody to call you mama, have yo’ own damn kids! Better yet, go get you a monkey, a parrot, something! Train one of them muthafuckas to call you mama ’cause these over here got one mama, and that’s me!”
“You know what, Billie? It’s obvious that you’re jealous of me. But I’m not tryin’ to take your place as their mother. I’m simply tryin’ to bring us all closer together. So if you want to continue to build a wedge between our two families, then go right ahead.”
“Bitch, you can stop it wit’ all the blended family bullshit. ’Cause I ain’t Sheree, and you for damn sure ain’t Jada.” Billie referred to Will Smith’s ex-wife and current wife.
“Whateva. I don’t have time for this. Tell the kids we love them, and we’ll see them this weekend,” Becky hung up in her ear.
“Heffa,” Billie spat, hanging up the phone as well.
“That’s the same thing I said,” Kenzie shook her head, entering the room.
Anxiously awaiting Milania’s arrival, Dylan sat alone by the window at Bar Italia sipping on lemon water. Homegirl was twenty minutes late and with each second that passed Dylan grew more and more pissed off. Hell, she didn’t even know why she was there. She didn’t owe Milania a damn thang. To her, the chick was nothin’ more than a jump-off searching for her next come up and Angel was her victim. Dylan couldn’t even imagine their so-called relationship going the distance.
If they made it to the altar and actually got married, pigs were sure to fly.
But then again, maybe the sleazebag does genuinely love him,
Dylan thought as a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the side of the curb causing passersby to stop and stare and a slew of paparazzi to arrive out of nowhere. Just like in a horror film, the hairs on the back Dylan’s neck stood up as Angel’s faithful driver, Tony, who once used to chauffer Dylan around, opened the door for Milania. Unconsciously, Dylan held her breath as Milania stepped out into full view.
Dylan would never admit to anyone, but in terms of fashion, the chick was killin’ the game. The Michael Kors black feathered mink peplum jacket, spandex skirt, and Christian Louboutin double platform pumps were off the chain and most definitely something Dylan would’ve gravitated to when she had the funds to splurge. After stopping and taking a few photos for the paps, Milania made her way inside the restaurant while talking on the phone. As the hostess guided Milania to their table, Dylan imagined that the blue and white striped oversized slouchy T-shirt, jeggings, cuffed high-heeled booties, and cross body bag from H&M she wore was straight from the runway. But the closer Milania neared and the faster Dylan’s heart began to race, the less confident she became.