Chapter 12 With his child…
Tyriq! Are you fucking kidding me!
Tyriq? Here and right now.
If this ain’t some shit right here. Ugh!
Since receiving the shock of my damn life, I have been floating through my shit.
Granted, I’ve been doing my job; I just haven’t been all the way present.
It’s like I was floating and carefully watching my movements overhead but I wasn’t grounded and fully present. How could I be? I’m fucking pregnant.
With his child…
And his ass is here. At my damn job.
“Tyriq! What the hell are you doing here?” I ask now in a more hushed tone. The initial shock of seeing him here had me practically screaming his name but I quickly remember where I am and lower my voice.
“You sick?’ he asks with so much concern instead of answering me.
No. Just pregnant.
My true words scurry somewhere down in my throat.
Plus, even if I had the courage to say them, it wouldn’t be in here, in front of sick strangers.
And there’s also the matter of still being in utter dis-damn-belief that my ass is actually pregnant.
I sigh, probably too damn loud for this waiting room, so I latch my arm into his.
“Not in here. Let’s go outside,” I encourage.
He nods, reaches for my lunch kit, and I relent.
His free hand lands on the small of my back and we walk out.
Normally, I park in the garage on the second floor, reserved for employee parking, but today I bypassed it and lucked up on a space out front in visitor parking.
I took a chance, and when I passed by security, he acted like he didn’t see me parked in the wrong place.
The minute we step out into the warm night air, Tyriq repeats his question, “You sick?”
“Not really,” I admit. “I just wasn’t feeling like myself so I left a few minutes early. My shift was going to be over at eleven anyway.”
“You’re around sick people all the damn time. You gotta take care of yourself.” When we reach my Jeep, I unlock it but don’t get in yet. “You want this in the back?” he asks.
“No. Passenger seat but I got it,” I say but he ignores me.
He opens my door and places my bag and my purse on my passenger seat. When he’s done, he crowds my space then looks down at me. His eyes study me, practically looking through me. His hands rest on my shoulders.
“Are you sure you’re straight? Some of them people look fucked up in there,” he says, then smirks.
I swear my truth crawls from my belly up my throat then forces its way out of my mouth.
Before I can analyze, construct, or even form them into well thought-out sentences, they spew out of my mouth like hot gossip.
The issue is, this isn’t tea to spill; it’s a situation that neither of us planned or wanted, at least not now for me anyway.
“I’m not contagious, Tyriq. It’s not like you can get pregnant from someone sneezing on you,” falls from my lips so damn fast.
The night sounds and wind seem to still into silence as I observe his body and facial expressions go through visible changes.
His hands drop from my shoulder. His craned neck lifts and he takes a small step back.
His body morphs into a contemplative stance and his arms fold across his chest. His head tilts to the left.
With all his movements though, his eyes never leave me.
What the hell is he thinking? Is he angry or just surprised as I still am? Why is his eyebrow lifting like that? Shit! Say something. Anything.
My own voice is screaming so loud in my damn head that my ears are drumming. His silence, piercing eyes, and body movements are driving me crazy. I’m freaking the hell out.
“It’s yours, in case you’re wondering,” I utter, unable to deal with this dead silence between us.
That hiked eyebrow drops and the other lifts, then they knit together.
More body language but none that he actually vocalizes.
This is maddening and sickening. I’m starting to feel queasy all over again and my legs feel unsteady as shit. “Say something, anything,” I plead.
My hand grabs my door frame for support and he moves again. This time closer to me. He’s back in my space and his hand lands on my waist. He steadies me as his damn eyes burn a hole through me.
He finally speaks, voice low and eerily calm, baffling me even more. “I thought you were on the pill?” I don’t know how he’s feeling at all.
“I am.”
“And I strap up every-fucking-time.”
“You do.”
“Then, how the fuck?”
“Neither method is a hundred percent. Condoms are only ninety—”
“Kill the nurse talk,” he says, cutting me off mid-sentence.
His words are still low and calm, but void of anger.
“I just don’t know how,” he says and this time I don’t say shit.
“Damn. It’s so much going on. Fuck! Finals, graduation, the draft.
Mick and Paxton. What the hell I’m gonna… a baby. I didn’t see that shit coming.”
“Hell, me either,” I whisper while shaking my head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“What!” His voice is definitely loud and clear this time.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I repeat.
“What we are going to do,” he asserts, stressing the hell out of the word we.
“It’s my body, Tyriq,” I snap back.
He destroys the little space between and gets all the way up in my face. His hand moves under my chin and he lightly pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger. After lifting my face so my eyes meet his, he leans in, pressing his forehead to mine.
“What body? Your body that I had pinned up against your wall while I was deep inside? Your body that I had running all over your sectional? Your same body that I pressed up against your shower wall while I made you scream my name? Your body that climbs on top of mine and fucks me till my balls dry? That same fucking body?” he spits.
“Yeah. We not doing that. You carrying my child. We gon’ do whatever together. Please don’t try me, Tee.”
“This is a lot. I’m still in the ER. You haven’t even earned your degree yet,” I sigh.
“Next month,” he says.
“What about the draft? Your agents? Your sponsorships? You said that shit yourself.”
“What did I say?”
“I don’t know exactly. When I first told you, you started rambling shit off.
Hell, I don’t know. It’s just a lot and I’m still processing this shit myself.
I came into work to cover a shift and am leaving with a baby in my belly.
I just…I don’t know,” I sigh and my entire body tenses up.
As if this shit isn’t real already, it somehow feels realer as I talk and the weight of it all is heavy.
“I just need to go home, get out of this, clean up, crawl in my bed, and try to sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow.”
“Facts we are but I’m going with you tonight.”
“Tyriq. We can talk tomorrow.”
“I know. When you wake up, Imma be right beside you ready to talk.”
As if his words are final and mine don’t mean shit, he leans in and tenderly kisses me. Before I can even wrap my head around that, he grabs my hand and leads me to the passenger side of my Jeep. After moving my bags to the back seat, he practically lifts me and places me inside.
“Riq, come on. Didn’t you drive here?”
“Yeah,” is all he says before he closes the door. He walks over to the driver side, adjusts the seat all the way back, then gets in. He toys with the seat more, letting the back down, then adjusts the steering wheel and mirrors to accommodate his frame as best as he can.
“I can drive and what about your ride?”
“Tee, I’m driving and my shit is fine. I’ll get it in the morning.”
He holds his hand out for my keys and I take my fob out of my scrubs pocket and drop it into his.
He starts my Jeep, backs out of the parking space, then heads to my space.
I thought the night was silent when I was waiting on his initial response but this ride is quiet as hell.
I don’t even bother to turn music on and neither does he.
When we finally pull up to my townhouse, I release a heavy sigh of relief but it’s short lived when I remind myself that he’s going inside with me. After killing the engine, he gets out, walks over and helps me out, then grabs my bags. Together, to my dismay, we go inside.
As if he’s not here, I perform my regular routine, and when I walk out of the bathroom wrapped in my towel, he’s sitting on my sectional with a glass of brown liquor.
It has to be Black Ops Bourdon because that’s the only brown I have.
His eyes follow me as I grab my dirty scrubs and take them into the laundry room.
I close the door when I walk in, just to break his stare.
Inside, I take my time, regaining my composure and trying to relax my tense body and mind.
He’s still on the sectional but his glass is empty by the time I emerge dressed in my DAZ tee and matching shorts.
I walk past him into the kitchen and place my untouched lunch kit in the fridge and take a ginger ale out.
I grab a bag of popcorn next and a few paper towels.
I walk right past him again and start up the stairs. Seconds later, he’s right behind me.
My eyes roll at the fact that he's really not leaving as I walk into my bedroom. When I ease onto my bed, he remains by the door. I try to ignore him but his height alone demands attention. His eyes and handsome ass face are just added bonuses.
At least my baby will be beautiful. He or she has some pretty parents.
“Why are you smiling?” he says.