Chapter 15 Kyleigh
Aziza’s breakdown came after we decorated the tree. She’d been on a high all day, with her playdate, and the ornament shopping, and the tree decorating. So, by the time Serena and I got the girls ready for bed, she was tired and a little emotional.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was my daddy?” she wanted to know.
I sat on the edge of her bed, smoothing the corner of her unicorn comforter. Zoriah was already half-asleep in the other bed, face smashed into her pillow. Serena leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, eyes soft but watchful.
“I was going to.” My throat felt tight. “I promise you, baby, I was. I just… didn’t know how.”
She frowned. “You just say, ‘This man is your daddy.’”
I couldn’t help smiling. My baby was eternally pragmatic. If only it had been that simple.
“When we were blessed with you, Mama and Daddy were young and immature. We made choices that hurt you. None of that is your fault. You hear me? Not one piece.”
Her face relaxed a tiny bit, like that settled her for half a second. She nodded, even sniffled a little, then it was like some terrible realization clicked into place behind her eyes.
“Does that mean Daddy didn’t want me?” she asked.
Then she burst into sobs. The sound gutted me. Serena’s hand flew up to her mouth. She pushed off the doorframe and came over to rub Aziza’s back, but her eyes were already on me. There was only so much either of us could say without lying outright.
“I’ll… let me go get him. She needs to hear that from his mouth,” Serena said quietly.
I just nodded because my voice wasn’t working anymore.
Aziza was curled on her side, shoulders shaking, little fists bunched in the comforter. I reached for her. She came, all warm limbs and broken heart, pressing into me like she was five again. I rocked her, nose in her hair, eyes burning.
“Baby, listen to me. Your daddy did not know about you. If he had known, he would’ve been right here. He’s a lot, but he loves you now like he been waiting on you,” I whispered.
She choked on a sob. “But why you didn’t tell him?”
Because I thought he didn’t want me. Because I thought he wouldn’t want you. Because I was scared he’d prove your grandparents right. Because I let other people’s lies become our truth.
None of that was fit to tell my nine-year-old.
“I made a mistake,” I said instead. The words tasted like broken glass. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting both of us from more hurt. I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”
She cried harder.
The door opened behind us. I didn’t even have to look. I felt him before I saw him, like the whole room shifted.
“What’s going on?” Jabali asked.
His voice was low and anxious, already worried. Serena answered for me.
“She asked if you didn’t want her. I figured that was Daddy business.”
He swore under his breath. One soft word that split the air. He came to my side of the bed, eyes on Aziza like nothing else existed. I’d seen him angry, cocky, amused. This was different. His face looked so hurt.
“Come here, little mama,” he said.
I started to pull back. Aziza clung tighter, then peeked up, saw his face, and launched herself across the space between us like she couldn’t help it. He caught her easily, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. Her arms went around his neck, desperate.
“I asked Mama if you didn’t want me. ’Cause I don’t understand why nobody told me. Kids at school got daddies. ZoZo got a daddy. I thought maybe I did something wrong,” she cried.
Something in him just… broke. I could see it. His jaw clenched, eyes going narrow, breath coming out like somebody had punched him in the chest.
“Ay, ay, look at me,” he said.
He eased her back just enough to see her face. His big hands framed her cheeks so gently it hurt to watch.
“You listen to me real close, Aziza Grindley. There has never been a day in this world where you were not wanted.”
She sniffled. “But you weren’t here.”
“I know.” His voice shook on the words. “I know. That’s on grown people.
That’s on stuff that happened before you even got here.
I did not know my baby existed. If I had known, I would’ve been at every doctor appointment.
In every waiting room. Sleeping on hospital couches.
I would’ve been at every first step, every first word, every daycare Christmas program. Do you understand me?”
She stared up at him, eyes wet and wide.
“I would’ve changed your diapers, burned formula, braided your baby hair crooked, all that.
I would’ve been right here annoying your mama and embarrassing you in front of your little friends.
I didn’t miss that stuff because I didn’t want you.
I missed it because people made decisions that kept me in the dark. ”
He pulled her back into his chest, rocking her like she was still tiny.
“But I know now, and now that I know? They’d have to bury me under this hill before I walk away. You understand?”
She hiccupped. “For real?”
“For real. You are my baby. You always were. You always will be. You are wanted. You are loved. You are my biggest blessing and also my biggest problem, I can already tell.”
A watery giggle slipped out of her. “I’m not a problem,” she protested.
“Already arguing. Definitely my kid,” he teased.
He kissed her forehead over and over, murmuring apologies into her hair. Apologizing for things he didn’t do but was willing to carry anyway.
“I’m sorry you felt alone. I’m sorry you ever thought you did something wrong. You didn’t. Grown people did. And we gon’ fix it.”
I sat there useless, tears slipping down my face, chest so tight I could barely breathe. This was what I’d wanted once. The way he held her, the way she melted into him, like they’d been practicing this for years. They fit. Serena brushed her fingers over my shoulder on her way out.
“I’ll give y’all a minute,” she whispered.
Zoriah stirred in the other bed. “ZiZi?” she mumbled.
“I’m okay. My daddy said he wanted me,” Aziza assured her, voice small but steadier.
Zoriah smiled in her sleep. “Okay. I knew that.”
We stayed like that for a while. Jabali rocking her, whispering to her until her tears slowed and her breathing evened out. She finally went limp in his arms, fingers still twisted in his hoodie.
“She out,” he said.
He eased her down, tucking the comforter under her chin like he’d been doing it all along. He checked on Zoriah, pulling her comforter up, then stood there between their beds for a second, just looking. His hand rubbed his jaw. His shoulders rose and fell.
“You okay?” I asked.
He laughed once, but it held no humor. “No. But she will be. That’s the part that matters.”
He reached over and turned off the lamp. The nightlight in the corner threw soft stars around the room. He bent and kissed both girls again, one on each forehead.
“Goodnight, little mamas,” he whispered.
We slipped out into the hallway, closing the door as quietly as possible. The second it clicked shut, the weight of everything hit me fully. I leaned back against the wall, pressing my palms into my eyes.
“You did good,” he said.
“I did terrible. She thought you didn’t want her. She carried that. That’s what I did,” I answered. My voice came out teary.
He shook his head. “Don’t do that. It won’t help anything. Get some sleep,” he added. “You look done.”
“I am,” I admitted.
We split off to our rooms. I showered on autopilot, changed into a satin camisole and shorts.
My brain replayed that question over and over.
Does that mean Daddy didn’t want me? That hurt still, despite Jabali’s attempts to soothe it.
Ten minutes later, there was a knock at my door.
Two quick taps, like always. I knew who it was before he spoke.
“Ky. We need to talk,” he said.
Of course, we did. The grown-people mess had finally caught up.
“Come in,” I invited.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He’d changed into a black T-shirt and sweats. Socked feet. The sight made my stomach flip for reasons that had nothing to do with our daughter. Those gray sweats were dangerous.
“Mind if I sit?” he asked.
I nodded toward the armchair by the window. He ignored it and sat on the edge of my bed. I rolled my eyes. Typical. I perched at the other corner, robe wrapped tight around me like it could keep me safe.
He rubbed his palms over his thighs, thinking.
“Let’s start here,” he said. “Why you think I got a kid with Donique?”
I closed my eyes briefly. I was tired of feeling stupid, but I was more tired of sitting in lies.
“Because senior year, she kept trying to get you. Bitch hated me. And the night of the Christmas program, she told me y’all had fucked in August and showed me her belly.
You show up here with a little girl about Aziza’s age, attached to you at the hip.
I put two and two together and got… the wrong math. ”
His jaw flexed. “I messed with her the summer before our senior year. That’s true. We were stupid and bored and everybody was fucking off. But once I clocked you? That was it. I’m not saying I was some saint, but there weren’t other girls while I was with you, Kyleigh. None,” he swore.
Something in me wanted to argue just on reflex. Old hurt didn’t die easy. I made an impatient sound.
“You expect me to just… take that? When I had screenshots of texts, timestamps, receipts. My parents did not play about that part.”
His brows pulled together. “What texts?”
“Messages between you and girls from school. Talking about how you were ‘good’ on me now, that you had options. It wasn’t just about Donique. There were others.”
Somehow, the hurt I’d felt then rolled out in my words now. He stared at me like I was speaking another language before shaking his head.