Chapter 5 Kai
Kai
I square my shoulders as I walk into the living room.
The surprised look on B’s face was more than I expected.
Years ago, when I would try to win her back, her expression was never surprised.
It was always more like this again. She told me to work on myself, so I did.
Maybe I waited too long, but I wanted us to both be in a good place in our lives before giving it a shot again.
Back then, I was still fucking up, and she was too busy with school, work, and raising Amari to even have the energy for us again.
I can tell she’s more relaxed and not always stressed now.
I’m sure that has to do with her being done with school and able to work part time, so she has more time for other things—and Amari.
When we get back together, I don’t care if she chooses not to work. All that matters is that she’s happy.
The only problem is…I never thought she would get this close to someone else so fast. Now I’m watching as she creates a family with someone else.
Moves into his home. Starts traditions. All the things we should be doing together.
I know I’m to blame, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit back and watch him take my family from me.
He’s not truly taking my family from me, but he’s taking the family dynamic I want with B and Amari.
I want to come home to Blakely and Amari from a long day of work, spend my evening eating dinner with them, doing homework with Amari, getting Amari ready for bed, and read a bedtime story to her until she falls asleep.
I want to end the day with B beside me and start the day with her beside me.
I want her pancake Sunday tradition to be us three every Sunday.
I never knew what I had until it was gone.
It’s a regret I live with every day. And now I will do everything I can to win her back.
I kick off my boots and relax on the couch. “What are we watching first?”
Amari has her arms crossed, sitting on the couch as if she is already fed up with waiting for us.
In walks B in her skintight black leggings and a black tank top.
“You changed?” The clothes may be comfy for her, but they’ve never made me feel any comfort.
Those clothes highlight all her curves, making me want to tear them off of her.
Knowing I can’t makes me feel the discomfort of having to hide my, you know, so no one sees it bulging out of my pants.
Especially Amari. I couldn’t imagine if she questioned what the hell’s popping out of my pants.
“If we’re going to be watching movies all day, I want to be comfy.”
The hope of her sitting right next to me fades as I watch her sit on the other side of Amari.
“What are we watching first?” B asks Amari.
“Cinderella.” Amari points the remote toward the TV and starts the movie.
Her aunt, Brynlee, gave all of her old princess movies to Amari when she didn’t care for them anymore. Amari learned—at a young age—how to use a DVD player. She’s always been quick to catch on to things.
Twenty minutes into the movie, Amari cuddles up next to me.
I rest my arm on top of the couch. I glance over to my left, catching a glimpse of B watching the movie.
She’s so into it. She doesn’t even realize that I’m staring at her.
I can’t help but notice how much she has grown and matured.
Her features, which were once innocent, now radiate elegance.
She’s always taken my breath away. Her eyes still hold the same spark they had when I first laid eyes on her.
I’m in awe of the woman and mother she’s become.
I hope she feels the same way toward me.
Three movies and a nap later, it’s almost dinnertime.
I made so many crepes for breakfast, so we had crepes for lunch again.
I need to cook my girls a proper meal with protein and vegetables.
“What do you say I cook us some dinner while you guys watch the fourth movie?” I glance between Amari and B.
“I can help you,” B says, eyeing me.
She must be sick of watching movies like I am.
“I have to watch Snow White by myself?” Amari questions.
“Honey, we’ve watched three movies already. You really want to watch a fourth one?”
She shrugs her shoulders.
“Why don’t you help your mom and me cook?”
“Okay,” she says, scooting off the couch and running into the kitchen.
B gets up from the couch and stretches, reaching her arms high into the air. “Oh my God. I wouldn’t have been able to handle another movie. My ass hurts,” she says, rubbing her ass.
I look behind her, watching her rub her ass.
She slaps my shoulder. “That wasn’t an invitation to look.”
“Sure seemed like it.”
She shakes her head as she walks to the kitchen.
“What do you have to cook?” I open the fridge, looking around. “Should we cook these steaks?” I pull them out, showing them to her.
“Sure. I need to get them cooked soon, anyway.” She walks over to the pantry. “I’ll make some rice.”
Her love for rice still hasn’t gone away. That was always her go-to meal for us when we were living in the apartment. Chicken and rice. We were broke, and that was one of the cheapest meals we both enjoyed.
"Amari, do you want to help cut up some zucchini and yellow squash with your mom while I cook the steaks?”
“Yeah,” she says, dragging a kitchen chair over to the counter to be higher up.
I reach over for the chair and help her set it next to the sink. “Wash the vegetables while your mom puts the rice on the stove.”
It took me a long time to start eating healthy and preparing my own meals.
Before that, I depended on my mom, and when we moved out and I went to live with Kevin, we ate like shit.
Everything we ate came out of a box or bag.
When B and I moved in together, she cooked actual food that had to be prepared instead of warmed up in the microwave.
When she left me, I went back to the same garbage as before.
Kevin would BBQ for us occasionally. Those were the only times I would get a home-cooked meal.
One day I had enough. I finally stopped drinking, and my thoughts were clearer.
Everything I used to eat before looked disgusting to me.
That’s when I realized I ate like shit because of the alcohol.
The alcohol ruined a lot of things for me.
I still have a drink here and there, but it’s never like before—and it never will be.
That part of my life is over. I used alcohol to numb my pain, and all it did was cause more pain.
It was hard when I first stopped drinking.
All the emotions from losing my dad came back up.
They hit me as if I had lost him all over again.
I didn’t mourn my dad like I should have when he passed.
On top of that, all the emotions of losing B and Amari came flooding in, too.
I was so embarrassed by the way I acted toward B.
She tried so hard when we were younger to get me to open up, and all I did was shut her out.
I’m surprised she held on for as long as she did.
Now all I want to do is give her the life I always promised her.
“So, should I make a steak for the doctor?” I say doctor sarcastically.
She gives me a side-eye. “Yes, please.”
“When will he be home?” My plan is that he walks in on us cooking as a family. That wasn’t my plan at first, and it’s not my fault it might happen.
“He should be home soon.”
Forty-five minutes later, I ask the girls to sit at the table while I serve them their dinner.
“Here you ladies go,” placing the food in front of them with a smile on my face.