Chapter 11 #3
“Ain’t it though?” He stepped closer. “I’m not a fan of this disappearing shit. You knew when you set foot in this city beside me is where I’d put in work to have you. Quit playing and let’s just do this shit. I was sure by now I’d be rearranging my closet to make room for you.”
She tried to hide her smile, but he caught it.
“Stop, and plus you’re gonna see me every day, whether you want to or not.”
“I want to.”
The certainty in his voice always scared her.
“That’s the problem, huh? I want all of it. And you don’t.”
She looked away. “No, it’s complicated.”
“It ain’t gotta be.” He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing her knuckles.
“Okay, well, be safe getting home.”
He nodded once, eyes holding hers like he was sealing a pact. Then, softer, “You like this shit, don’t you?”
“What shit, Rolani?”
“A nigga chasing you, acting very chalant about yo fine ass. Be real, you like it.” His smirk deepened. “It’s cool. I think you’re worth it.”
She shook her head, but the smile broke through anyway. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
“I’m wearing you down, Kennedi Loreal Walters.”
“Bye, Rolani,” she said, waving him off with more warmth than she meant to show. He was right, she’d enjoyed him today. Too much.
When she reached the front door, she glanced back. He was still there, leaning against his truck, watching her until she was safe inside. That same possessiveness that showed up in LA had followed them home. It was alive, breathing, waiting.
The moment she stepped into the living room, Kennedi knew she was in for it. Her mother was waiting, arms folded, one brow raised, her mouth caught between curiosity and a smirk.
“Got anything you wanna tell me?” she asked. Then, without looking away, “Kenneth, go check on the cars. I need to talk to my daughter.”
Her father muttered under his breath but obeyed, slipping out the back door and into the garage with a knowing grin.
Kennedi sank onto the edge of the couch. “About what?”
“About the allergies. About the plate. About the way that hallway suddenly turned into a hotel, motel, holiday inn.”
Kennedi groaned. “Don’t be dramatic. And I pay attention to details. It’s my job.”
“Mhmm.” Her mother leaned forward, eyes sharp. “And him calling you beautiful right at my dinner table? That was professional too?”
Kennedi’s chin wobbled, but she tried to hold steady. “We met in L.A. At Giovanni’s premiere. I’ve been trying to keep my distance ever since. That’s the story.”
“Then why was he here?”
“Because he’s him. Cocky, arrogant, and possessive.”
Her mother’s tone changed. “Baby, maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
Kennedi looked at her hands. “Ma, you know I don’t know how to stay. I’ve always been able to choose myself; now I have to choose someone else. I don’t know how to do that. I know I’ve disappointed y’all by staying gone for so long.”
Her mother moved beside her on the couch. “Is that really what you think? That we were disappointed? No, baby. We were scared. Disappointed? Never. You did exactly what we raised you to do—go after what you wanted. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”
Kennedi blinked hard, fighting tears.
“Now, that boy?” Her mother’s mouth tugged into a smile. “He brought me my favorite roses and pound cake from Millbrook. Very polite and charming. Seems like he wants to help you stick around. Are you open to that?”
Kennedi rolled her eyes. “Ma…” She exhaled. “He’s complicated. He’s a little dangerous, SBB. I found out Friday that his grandmother passed right before we met, and his brother is in jail. He’s raising his niece by himself, Ma. And he never told me any of it. I had to hear it from my girls.”
“SBB, huh?” Her mother’s voice shifted. “You sure about that?”
“That’s what I’m saying. He’s not in the streets anymore, but it’s still part of who he is. He carries a gun, Ma. Not recklessly. Intentionally. And I know what that comes with.” She exhaled. “I’m a journalist, Ma. I’ve covered stories about men like him. I never expected to be with one.”
Her mother was quiet for a moment. “Your father wasn’t always the man you see sitting at that table, Kennedi.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means people grow. It means the streets don’t define a man forever. And it means I’m not going to sit here and let you write somebody off for where they came from when I didn’t do that with your daddy.”
“I think you’re desperate for grandkids and willing to accept a hobo off the streets. It was a fun night in LA…for now.”
“And yet here you sit, torn up about him.” Her mother smirked. “If it were just sex, you wouldn’t be scared out of your mind right now. What the young kids say… clock it.”
She tilted her head, voice casual but lethal. “Oh, and my son-in-law is far from a hobo. I saw the watch.”
Kennedi froze, jaw dropping. “Excuse me? Your WHAT now?”
Her mother smiled, unbothered, and patted her hand. “You heard me. I’m claiming it early.”
She pressed her hands over her face like maybe if she blocked her mother out, the words wouldn't land. But they landed hard and kept ringing. Son-in-law? Oh, she had completely lost her damn mind.
“Mommy, be for real,” she groaned through her fingers. “We... It’s complicated. More complicated than you know. I didn’t expect to fall in love with him. How do you even do that after one weekend?”
Her mind was still trying to process how she’d managed to run from this very thing most of her life, and one night it landed in her lap. This had to be a scam; it was too easy, but what she didn’t want to acknowledge was that she was the one making it complicated.
Her mother’s eyes sharpened. “Complicated how?”
Kennedi’s hands dropped from her face. Her throat tightened. This was it. She could keep running, or she could tell the truth.
“Ma… I messed up.”
She stood, fingers trembling as she slid her jacket off and let it fall to the couch.
The silence was immediate. Heavy.
Her mother’s gaze dropped to her stomach, to the curve Kennedi had been hiding all night.
“Kennedi…”
“I’m pregnant.” The words rushed out. “Five months. And I haven’t told him yet.”
Her mother crossed the room in two steps and pulled her into her arms.
“Oh baby,” she whispered. “My baby girl.”
“I’m sorry,” Kennedi sobbed into her mother’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t what you wanted for me. I know I messed up—”
“Stop.” Her mother pulled back, cupping Kennedi’s face with both hands, thumbs wiping away tears. “You listen to me. You didn’t mess up. You’re having a baby. My grandbaby. And yeah, maybe it’s not the order I would’ve chosen, but life doesn’t always go in order, does it?”
“But I’m not even with him. Not really. And he doesn’t know and—” Kennedi shook her head. “Everything’s a mess.”
“Breathe, baby. Just breathe.” Her mother guided her back to the couch, sat beside her, and kept one hand on Kennedi’s knee. “Does he seem like the kind of man who’d run?”
Kennedi knew the answer. He’d told her straight up in LA: I want forever. That wasn’t a man who ran.
“No,” she whispered. “That’s what scares me.”
Her mother’s smile was soft, knowing. “You’re not scared of him wanting too much, Kennedi. You’re scared of wanting it too.”
The truth of it hit her upside the head.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted. “I don’t know how to be someone’s... someone. And now I’m about to be someone’s mother, and I can’t even unpack my own apartment without feeling flighty.”
“Nobody knows how to do it until they’re doing it.” Her mother squeezed her hand. “But let me tell you about that man who left here. That’s a man who understands family. I know Pearl made sure of it. Tell him, baby, and soon.”
“He also pulled a gun on someone for touching me,” Kennedi blurted out.
Her mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, I’m sure that person is glad to still be among the living.”
“Mommy!”
She laughed softly with a shrug. “Men like Rolani don’t hand out their hearts easily. If he’s giving you his, don’t treat it lightly because you’re scared of what it costs to keep it. Especially now.” Her hand moved to Kennedi’s stomach. “Especially with this.”
Kennedi looked down at her mother’s hand, at the place where a whole person was growing. Rolani’s baby. Their baby.
“What if I hurt him?” she whispered.
Her mother tilted her head.
“What if he hurts you?” she said gently. “What if y’all hurt each other and figure it out anyway?” A small smile tugged at her mouth. “What if it works? What if this is the love story?”
Kennedi blinked at her. “That was beautiful, Mommy.”
“And so are you.” Her mama brushed a thumb across her cheek. “You don’t always see it.”
The room settled around them.
Her mother’s voice stayed firm but landed gentler now. “Listen to me. You don’t have feelings on the line anymore. You’ve got this, baby. So whatever y’all are doing, you need to find some common ground. And fast.”
Kennedi swallowed. The weight of it wasn't shame; it was just reality.
“I’m telling him soon,” Kennedi said, voice steadier now. “I promised myself I would.”
“Good.” Her mother pulled her close again. “And whatever happens, you’ve got us. You’ve always got us. And your father was once upon a time SBB; he’ll make sure Rolani stands up and does the right thing. By laws are by laws.”
“Ma, what are you talking about?”
“If you think your father, Kenneth Brandon Walters, is going to sit by and let a nigga breathe and not take care of his responsibilities, you are sadly mistaken. You are and have always been his baby girl. He will suit up behind you. But I saw the way that young man looked at you. I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. ”
The hug her momma gave her was new; it felt different. And she’d never heard her prissy mother speak like that. The mother-to-mother moment was perfect.
She sighed before her mother released her and started packing up plates for her. She gave her mother permission to tell her father, she simply couldn’t do it, what if he was disappointed? She couldn’t see that look on his face.
Later that night, alone in her apartment, Kennedi looked at the half-packed boxes stacked against the walls and groaned.
She’d been avoiding them for days, but tonight she needed something to keep her mind off her mama’s words.
They wouldn’t leave her alone, circling in her head with every step she took through the apartment: See things for what they are, not what you want them to be.
She filled her Stanley cup, turned on her playlist, and started with the kitchen boxes. Dish by dish, she unpacked.
Rolani was dangerous, but he’d shown up when she tried to hide. He hadn’t backed down. He saw past the walls she built. And he wasn’t selfish—with Monroe, with his business, with her. That complicated everything.
By the time she moved to the dining room, her shoulders felt lighter. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Ro: I meant what I said, Ken. I’ll cut up about you. Don’t test it.
She froze mid-step, glass dangling from her fingers. The man had a way of typing like he was right in the room, close enough to breathe against her neck.
Kennedi: That’s exactly what scares me.
The reply came quickly, like he’d been waiting on her all night.
Ro: Scared of being loved too good? Can’t relate.
Ro: I’ll take my time with you… or I won’t. Depends on how you act.
Her laugh broke out before she could stop it, too loud in the quiet apartment. She bit her lip, sinking onto the couch, her thumb hovering.
Kennedi: Goodnight, Rolani.
Ro: Don’t make me come find you in this little ass city, Ken. You know I will.
She set her cup down and glanced at the boxes still stacked around her. Tonight, they didn’t feel heavy at all, just unfinished.