4. AMAI #2
I knew something was wrong the moment I pulled into my driveway.
The lights were on.
All of them.
Every window in the house glowed like someone was throwing a party I hadn’t been invited to.
I put the car in park and sat there for a moment, my breathing quickening.
I knew Yahmaria was in New Orleans.
I knew she was moving around again. Knew my father and Victor had shoved her back onto the board like she was some piece they could use to trap me.
But this?
This was different.
This was escalation.
After what happened at Victor’s estate, I didn’t think she’d have the balls to push this far. I’d stood in her father’s yard with guns drawn and made it clear there would be consequences if she came near what was mine.
Yet here she was.
Not visiting.
Not threatening from a distance.
Moving the fuck in.
I got out of the car and walked to the front door.
It was unlocked.
I pushed it open and stepped inside—
And stopped cold.
Her shit was everywhere.
Designer luggage stacked in the foyer. Shopping bags from Saks and Neiman Marcus scattered across the marble floor. A pair of red-bottomed heels kicked off near the stairs like she’d just walked in and made herself at home.
Because she had.
My blood went cold.
Then hot.
Then cold again.
The lights burning in every window. The luggage stacked in my foyer. The red bottoms kicked off by the stairs like she had walked in, unpacked, and decided my house was still hers.
I took the stairs two at a time, my footsteps heavy and determined.
The bedroom door was open.
And there she was.
Stretched out across my bed like she was posing for a magazine cover, wearing a red negligee that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Her hair was freshly done—long, dark waves cascading over her shoulders. Her makeup was flawless. Her nails were freshly manicured.
She looked good.
“Get the fuck out,” I said.
Yaya didn’t even flinch.
She propped herself up on one elbow and smiled at me like I’d just told her a joke.
“Daaammn,” Syx appeared behind me.
“Get the fuck out, Syx.”
“Heeeyyy, Yaya,” he flirted.
“Syx!”
“Aight.” He raised his hands and then walked toward his room.
“Bye, Syx,” Yaya called out. “Hello to you, too, husband.”
“Stop saying that dumb ass shit, Yaya.”
“Legally, you are.” She tilted her head, her smile widening. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me.
Not because I wanted privacy.
Because I didn’t want Syx—or anyone else—walking in on whatever the fuck this was about to be.
“Yaya.” I kept my voice even. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Get. Out.”
“Or what?” She sat up fully now, the negligee slipping off one shoulder. “You gonna put your hands on me, Amai? That’s not really your style.”
She was right.
I didn’t hit women.
But I was seriously reconsidering that policy.
I walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge—far enough away that I wasn’t touching her but close enough that she couldn’t pretend this was a game.
“Let’s be real,” I said quietly. “Why the fuck are you back in my life?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I turned to look at her fully. “We don’t even like each other, Yaya. So why are you here? What do you want?”
For a moment—just a moment—hurt flickered across her face.
Then it was gone.
“We used to,” she said softly.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Before you started fucking other niggas. And before I found out you couldn’t have kids.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I was just acting out,” she said, her voice sharper now. “I couldn’t have kids, Amai. Do you know what that felt like? Knowing I couldn’t give you what you wanted?”
“So, you went and jumped on random dick?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Got it. That makes perfect sense.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you.” I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. “I’m not doing this anymore. Sign the divorce papers willingly, or I’ll get them signed in blood. At this point, it don’t matter to me either way.”
Yaya stared at me for a long moment.
Then, she laughed.
It wasn’t a nice laugh.
“You’re a fucking joke,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “You sitting here acting like you’re so much better than me. Like you got it all figured out. You saw what the fuck happened at my daddy’s house. Ain’t no way out for either of us! We might as well make the best of it.”
“I do have it figured out,” I said evenly. “I figured out you’re a liability. And I don’t keep liabilities around. And I only allowed that shit at your daddy’s house because I was outnumbered. Unlike you, I got shit to lose now.”
“Oh, really?” She leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “It’s not like you can have kids either, Amai!”
The air in the room shifted.
Went cold.
“Watch your mouth,” I said quietly.
“Why?” She smiled—cruel and vicious. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? When Kaisen fucked up your dick, I was willing to stay with your sterilized ass. I didn’t leave you. I didn’t throw it in your face. I stayed.”
My hands curled into fists.
“You stayed because your daddy told you to,” I said, my voice low and lethal. “Not because you gave a fuck about me.”
“And you think I’m supposed to believe you give a fuck about me?” she shot back. “Please. You’ve been trying to divorce me from jump.”
“Because you made it impossible to stay married to you.”
“Yet here we are.” She spread her arms wide, gesturing to the room. “Still married. Still stuck with each other.”
I stood up.
Looked down at her.
“I can have kids,” I said quietly. “If I couldn’t, my surrogate wouldn’t be pregnant.”
The words landed like a bomb.
Yaya went completely still.
Her smile faltered.
Just for a second.
Then it came back—sharper, colder.
“You sure it’s yours?” she asked.
Her voice was soft.
Condescending.
Like she was planting a seed she knew would grow into something poisonous.
I felt my entire body go rigid.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“You heard me.” She tilted her head, studying me like I was a science experiment. “You sure that baby is yours, Amai?”
“You’re only saying that because you’re mad I moved on without you,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet.
“Yeah, aight.” She shrugged, her smile never wavering. “You have no idea what the fuck is going on behind the scenes. But I can’t wait until you find out.”
She rolled over.
Pulled the covers up over her shoulder.
And went to sleep.
Just like that.
Like she hadn’t just dropped a grenade in the middle of my life and left me spiraling inside.
I stood there staring at her back.
My mind racing.
My heart pounding.
Then I turned and walked out of the room.
Grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the hall closet.
Went to one of the guest rooms and locked the door behind me.
After showering, I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Tried to sleep.
Couldn’t.
Because all I could hear was Yaya’s voice.
“You sure it’s yours?”
The way she’d said it.
Not like a question.
Like a statement.
Like she knew something I didn’t.
I grabbed my phone and pulled up Truth’s contact.
Stared at her name for a long time.
Then put the phone down.
I didn’t know what I was going to say.
Didn’t know what I was going to ask.
But Yaya’s words kept replaying in my mind.
Over and over.
“You sure it’s yours?”
And the worst part?
I didn’t know.
I sat in the guest room staring at my phone.
I pulled up Truth’s contact.
Stared at her name.
I’d been keeping my distance. Trying to get Yaya out of my house, out of my life, before Truth’s next appointment.
But I didn’t know if I could wait that long.
Not with Yaya’s words eating at me.
Not with the image of Truth smiling at her phone when that nigga hit her up.
I hit the call button before I could talk myself out of it.
It rang twice.
Then her voice came through—soft, surprised, happy.
“Amai?”
The sound of her saying my name did something to my chest.
Made it tighten.
Made it hurt.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s me.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to call.” There was a smile in her voice. “Is everything okay?”
I should have eased into it.
Should have asked how she was feeling. How the baby was.
But Yaya’s words were a poison in my veins.
And I couldn’t stop myself.
“Did you fuck someone else?”
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence.
Then, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Her voice had gone cold.
Sharp.
Loaded.
“You heard me,” I said, temples throbbing. “Did you fuck someone else?”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“Answer the question, Truth.”
“No!” Her voice cracked like a whip. “No, I didn’t fuck anyone else! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I saw you,” I said, my voice low and hard. “Smiling at your phone when that nigga hit you up. All giggly and soft. So how the fuck do I know you didn’t let him come over after the first transfer failed?”
“Let him—” She stopped. Took a breath. “You think I let some random man fuck me?”
“You were on hormones,” I pressed. “Horny. Fertile. Someone else could’ve fucked. How do I know that baby is mine?”
The silence that followed was so heavy I could feel it through the phone.
Then, Truth laughed.
But it wasn’t a happy sound.
It was bitter. Furious.
“You know what, Amai?” Her voice was shaking now. “You got me fucked up.”
“Truth—”
“No. You don’t get to talk right now.” She was breathing hard. “I’m not some trash-ass bitch who just gives pussy out. I don’t know what the fuck got into you, but you got the wrong one.”
“I’m just asking—”
“You’re not asking,” she snapped. “You’re accusing. You’re calling me a hoe. So, you know what? Since you think I’m out here fucking random niggas, and it ain’t your baby—keep your money. I’ll keep the baby. You’re off the hook.”
My blood went cold.
“Truth—”
“I already got my money either way, so since it’s like that?” Her voice cracked. “Lose my number.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Called her back immediately.
Voicemail.
She’d blocked me.
I tried again.
Same message.
“Fuck.”
I stood up.
Paced the room.
What the fuck had I just done?
I grabbed my keys off the dresser.
Didn’t bother changing out of the sweatpants and t-shirt I’d thrown on after showering.
Just headed for the door.
If Truth wanted to block my number, fine.