Aldrich
I’D BEEN FLIRTING with Sterling.
And real talk, that shit felt good as hell.
Which was a big fucking problem. I’d brought her into my life to make shit easier.
To handle Ami so that having a baby wouldn’t become a distraction.
But now I had an even bigger one taking care of the smaller one.
There was no way I could push up on somebody I had living in my house but damn I swore that I was going to go crazy.
That was the issue right now. Sterling felt comfortable as fuck.
She was seeing me do shit and act a certain way and she hadn’t criticized me.
Hell, I knew the people who were my people would be side-eyeing how I was avoiding my daughter.
I was still slightly fucked up about how things were going but it wasn’t her fault.
Holding her today had me stuck. When she looked me dead in my face like, ‘nigga where you been?’ I felt guilty as fuck.
Out of everyone in this situation, she was the one who was innocent and I had been avoiding her out of my own… trauma?
Damn I didn’t want to label it that.
I didn’t understand how some women did it.
Nor how the laws would force some women to have their assaulter’s kid and then force them to co-parent with someone who had violated.
I considered myself pro-woman before this because what normal man wasn’t pro-woman?
But now? I might be a whole feminist out this muthafucka and start donating money to causes.
Still fucked up that it took some shit happening to me before I felt like this though.
I’d changed Ami’s diaper and I swore I was going to have her formula changed. There shouldn’t be a reason in this world for something that toxic to come out of a baby that fucking cute.
And my baby girl was beautiful. I felt like a narcissist saying it because she looked so much like me, but with her big doll-like eyes, head full of hair and the little gummy smile with her dimples?
I’d put her head to head with any other baby out there and Amisha Sterling Dinero was going to come out on top.
I hadn’t lied when I told Sterling I had to head out today.
I wanted to get more work in with my position coach and work with the rookie they’d drafted in the fifth round who I knew wanted my spot.
I was all for making everyone better because it only helped me achieve my goals.
Longevity in this game meant my ass couldn’t be the man on every running play so having someone to help ease the load who could come in and put in work benefitted me.
I still needed to get in a workout since Sterling’s perfect ass could cook just as she said she could.
That beef stew was my dinner and my lunch the next day and she’d had something waiting for me almost every night.
If she didn’t cook then she’d order something in.
I’d told her to just cook for herself because I planned to take the jit Chris Peppers out for dinner since I was going to work his ass like he owed me money on this field.
“What’s good, Money?”
When I glanced up, the head coach of the team, Douglas Stewart, better known as Stew, was walking toward me with his hand out.
We dapped up and he pulled me toward him, patting me on the back.
He’d been the one to insist on drafting me when he was named head coach and I had a special place in my heart for him for that alone.
“Not too much. Just about to run and work out with Chris since he wanted to put some work in.”
He grinned and nodded like he was proud of me before his face turned all business. “Bruh, I’m not talking about work. How’s the little one? The baby just got out of the hospital, right?”
“Uh, yeah it’s been a few weeks now.”
“The baby okay? You have a little girl, right? You know Puddin’ told me what she knew but she also don’t be talking ‘bout y’all like that.”
“Probably because as soon as you around her you don’t give that lady time to talk.
” The smirk that crossed his face let me know I was right so I could only shake my head.
“Yeah, she’s a little girl.” I was blinking because I couldn’t believe I hadn’t even sent out any of the information about my daughter to the people that I cared about.
I’d been trying to keep my mind right but apparently I’d been remiss about doing even the barest of minimums.
“I’m jealous as fuck. I want a lil’ girl something serious. Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m happy as hell that my baby boy is doing well. I just know my Puddin’ tired of being in a house full of dicks. Especially with the boys getting to that musty pre-teen stage.”
“Not you calling my lil homies musty.” Stew’s boys were good kids. The kind that were respectful as hell to everyone and appreciated their time when they came to the facility to see their parents.
His brows shot up, which was always funny to me cause his ass was bald. “Shit, some of your teammates musty and they grown ass men.”
“That’s facts. But they say hygiene is cultural, and we see that firsthand. But they gone be alright. I know Rachelle won’t have them walking around embarrassing her.”
“Hell nah. They're young Stewart men and we've got a reputation to uphold.” He was grinning from ear to ear and I had to admit I admired Stew even more for how he handled his wife’s sons. Or I should say his. He claimed them boys almost from the second he knew about them and gave them his last name when their biological father cut ties with them. He loved those boys the same way he loved his unborn son and I felt even worse. Ami was my blood and I wasn’t treating her the way I should’ve been.
I had too many amazing examples around me to be acting the way I was.
“My daughter…her name is Amisha. I call her Ami. The nanny has been holding shit down for me until I can get my head right.”
“Cause the shit with her mama or whatever?” Stew was at least forty but he still looked like he could suit up and play right now.
I was shocked he didn’t try it since Dr. Rich went in and did a repair on his fucked-up knee.
But with the way he crossed his arms in front of his chest he was going into big brother mode and it wasn’t necessary.
The nigga couldn’t fight ghosts.
“Yeah some of that. And it’s just you…everything that came with it. The shit people saying. It’s a lot of crazy shit going on. I’m trying to do much better than I was. Interacting but even that’s crazy cause she's so little I’m trying not to break her or anything like that.”
“I feel you but you gotta get in the paint. The nanny can’t handle it all cause despite how she got here, that’s your baby.” He pointed his finger at me like he knew I wasn’t pulling my weight and I was convicted as fuck.
“Hell, you can’t tell me that. Ling got my baby spoiled already.” Something about my face must’ve given something away because Stew was staring at me funny. “What I say?”
“Nigga, who you got watching your baby?” Stew was grinning from ear to ear and with a look of surprise that had me playing back in my head what it was I’d said.
“The nanny, what you mean?” I tried to laugh it off but the more I did the harder he was looking.
“Hell nah. Your ass over here smiling and shit the way I do when my Puddin’ crosses my mind and I’m remembering how good she—how much I love her.” His grin televised that wasn’t at all what he was going to say.
“Glad you cleaned that up cause I don’t need to be in y’all business like that.”
He nodded as if, even if I’d thought of his wife like that he’d beat my ass. I couldn’t even lie to myself; he would beat my ass. “Facts. But you smiling like you had a taste of something. I’m assuming your nanny ain’t a lil old white lady. Not anything like Mrs. Doubtfire or somebody like that.”
“Nah, definitely not. She’s young. My age but she’s good as hell at her job. She’s got a master’s degree in nursing and she specializes in neonates. The service I went through said she was one of the best they had so of course I wanted her.”
“Yeah but you don’t just want her for your damn baby do you?” Now Stew was laughing and when he reached over and playfully pushed me my neck got tight.
“I didn’t say all that.”
He teasingly hit my chest with the back of his hand. “You ain’t have to! Your face did it for you.”
“Stew—”
“What this girl look like?” That tone said it wasn’t a real question; it was a demand.
I didn’t answer just pulled out my phone and scrolled through a few of the pictures I’d taken of Ami and Sterling together. I knew I had fucked up because the majority of my recent pictures were of them or just Ami.
Damn, they were both getting under my skin.
Stew took the phone out of my hand, glanced down at it and then back at me and then back at my phone. Chuckling, he handed it back to me as he shook his head. “Nigga, you fucked up.”
My eyes stretched wide as I laughed. “Stew!”
“Aye, I’m telling you like it is. I love my Puddin’ more than myself but I can look at the girl and tell that she’s your type.”
“How you figure that?”
“Because of how this picture was taken. It’s not taken like you focused on the baby.
You focused on them. And you caught her off guard.
Every man in existence got a camera roll full of shitty pictures of his girl cause he loves how she looks at her most natural and unguarded.
We like that shit because we know in those moments she’s at peak vulnerability because we’ve provided her safety.
And as pretty as she is, I know she wouldn’t want you flashing pictures of her with the house bun, sweats and a dirty t-shirt on as she’s cooking dinner. ”
“You're saying a lot, Stew. I don’t know how accurate any of it is.” I was lying like hell but I wasn’t about to tell his ass that.