Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
The ranch had been perfect. The flight home was fine. But somewhere between the airport and their exit, the air shifted.
She noticed it the way she noticed most things about him now — not in what he did but in what he didn't. His hand found her thigh out of habit and didn't stay.
The music he always played for RJ on the drive home stayed off.
He answered when she spoke. Laughed when something was funny.
But the man she'd fallen in love with was somewhere else underneath it.
They made it through the door by two in the afternoon, bags dropped in the entryway, shoes off, the particular tiredness of a good trip settling into their bones. Monroe’s backpack was on the couch, and her music was coming from upstairs, which meant Robin had already come and gone.
Rolani moved through the house the way he always did when he got home — checking the kitchen, flipping through the mail, making sure everything was where he’d left it. Kennedi watched him from the entryway and felt the distance in every ordinary movement.
She gave him ten minutes. Then she followed him into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with you?”
He stopped in the kitchen, back to her, hands braced on the counter.
“Nothing’s wrong with me. Jet lag or some shit probably.”
“Rolani.”
He turned around, his face was composed. “I’m good, Ken. Just tired.”
She crossed her arms before storming off to their bedroom and slamming the door.
This was the part of relationships she didn’t like: arguments, disagreements, and lies.
She grabbed her duffel bag, and she knew she was being dramatic, but she was here, scared and pregnant, and still honest with him. She was trying and showing up.
“Ken, what the fuck you doing? Where are you going?”
He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his chest. She had a death grip on the bag, and he slowly took it from her hand.
“Ken, I’m sorry I made you cry, but you ain’t leaving. A nigga having a moment aight?”
“You were fine this morning, and I thought we had an amazing trip. Is it because I’m fat now?”
“I’m still fine. Bae, be for real and stop crying, please.”
“You're not.” She tilted her head, trying to dry her eyes. Truthfully, she’d been so emotional, especially as they got closer to welcoming their son. “You’ve been somewhere else since breakfast, and I want to know where.”
He stepped back and sat down on the bed they’d spent late nights and early mornings in.
“You leaving Ken?”
“What are you talking about? Why would I leave and go where? I’m about to pop.”
She stopped pacing to look at him, and she knew immediately what this was about.
The silence answered before he did. He’d overheard the call she got a day ago. Heard enough to know what it was. Not enough to know what she’d said.
Her phone buzzed while he was in the shower. She looked at the unknown number, then at the open porch door, and stepped outside.
“Kennedi Walters.”
“Kennedi, it’s Diane Everhouse of Everhouse Media.
I'll cut straight to it — we want you for the lead producer role on Continental.
Twelve episodes, four countries, full creative control.
We've been sitting on this offer for two weeks waiting for the right person, and your name keeps coming up.
What's the number to make this a reality?”
She leaned against the railing, looking out at the open land, the horses moving slowly in the distance.
“I’m very pregnant right now.”
“Hhm.”
“Yeah, so thanks.”
“We can add that to the contract.”
“What?”
“Pregnancy never stopped anyone. So think about it. You’d need to be in London by the first of next month. Six months minimum, possibly extending to a year depending on how the first season performs.”
Six months. Possibly a year. London.
Months ago, she would have said yes before Diane finished the sentence. But she wasn’t who she was months ago. She was a fiancée and an expecting mother. Her only job right now was them, her family. A family, she said, she wanted, and it was time to prove it.
“So you were just going to brew until what? I got my flight.”
“Are you leaving again?” he asked plainly.
“Rolani, I said I wasn’t.”
He was quiet for a long moment.
“I told you I wouldn't cage you,” he said finally. “And I meant that. I mean it right now. But that don’t mean…” He stopped. Started again. “You could say yes, Ken. That’s a real opportunity. Real money. That’s how you move, right?”
That landed the wrong way, and she felt it.
“I don’t care about that anymore. The most important story for me to write now is delivering a healthy baby and falling more in love with you. But it sounds like that’s not what you want. You don’t trust me, I see.”
“Well, why you ain’t mention it to me? I don’t want to wake up and you gone with my baby,” he said with pain in his voice. He was moving again, stepping out of the room with her on his heels.
“Rolani.” She moved to the couch, close enough to put her hand on his. “I turned it down before I even told you about it. Not because you asked me to. Not because I felt like I had to. Because I didn’t want it. I want this.”
He looked at her. “It reminded me that you could leave. Any time. For a real reason, a good reason, and I couldn't say shit about it because I love you and I want what’s best for you even when what’s best for you ain’t what’s best for me.”
The room was quiet. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked.
Neither of them heard it.
“I want to be here. I’ve been here.”
“Today.”
The word landed flat and honest, and it stung because she understood exactly what he meant by it.
“Today,” she said. “And tomorrow. And the day after that. That's all anybody gets to promise anybody. But if you don’t trust that, maybe I should leave.”
“Leave?” A small voice came from the hallway.
“Monroe.” Rolani was on his feet before Kennedi could blink.
Monroe stood at the top of the stairs in her bonnet and oversized t-shirt, arms crossed. The look on her face said she’d heard more than just the last line.
“Monroe, sweetie, this is a grown folks conversation,” Kennedi said gently.
“That’s always the excuse.” Her voice cracked on the edges, but she held her ground. “Every time something’s happening that affects me, it’s grown folks. But I heard you. I heard you say you might leave.”
Kennedi stood up slowly, one hand on her stomach, and crossed the room to the bottom of the stairs. She looked up at Monroe and didn’t rush it.
“I'm not leaving. I need you to hear me say that clearly. Not maybe, not it depends. I’m not going anywhere. Your uncle and I are just getting an understanding.”
Monroe’s jaw worked. “You sure? Because people say that. My mom has said a million times.”
“I know they do.” Kennedi held her gaze. “And I can’t make you believe me tonight. But I'm going to be here tomorrow to prove it. And the day after that. Y’all are my family.”
Monroe glanced past her to Rolani. An unspoken understanding, forged through years together, passed between them.
He nodded once.
Monroe looked back at Kennedi for a long moment, then dropped her arms. “Okay, y’all had me scared.”
“Go back to your room, Woo,” Rolani said quietly.
She turned and walked away down the hall without saying anything more.
The house settled. Rolani stood in the middle of the living room, hands in his pockets, staring at the floor like a child in trouble.
Kennedi watched him for a moment and felt the familiar pull of frustration rising, soft but real.
“I get it,” she said. “I do. I know what I did. I left, I kept the pregnancy to myself longer than I should have, and I made you wait on me to get it together. That’s on me, and I've owned it.
But Rolani, I came back. I stayed. I said yes when you asked me to marry you.
I am standing here, in your house, carrying your son, and you still can't give me the benefit of the doubt?”
He looked up. “My bad, Ken. I…”
“If you heard that call and spent a whole day thinking I was about to disappear on you again, what does that mean? What are we doing here if that's still where your head goes?”
He remained quiet.
“I’m not her," she said, softer now. “I'm not the woman from that plane anymore. And I know I have to keep proving that, I know it takes time, and I'm willing to do that work. But I need you to meet me somewhere, Ro. I can’t keep running toward a man who’s holding me at arm’s length.”
The silence stretched between them.
“You’re right,” he said finally. Low. Honest. “I heard that call, and I filled in the rest myself. I didn’t give you a chance to tell me what you decided. Just assumed.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That ain’t fair to you.”
“It's not.” She exhaled. “And I’m sorry I didn't tell you about it myself. That was me still moving like my decisions are only mine to make. I’m working on that.”
He crossed the room and pulled her in before she could finish the sentence.
“I trust you,” he said against her hair. “I just forget sometimes that trusting you means letting you be who you are without bracing for you to leave. That would kill me, Ken. Completely end me.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his lips softly.
“I earned that fear,” she said quietly. “But I’m here to stay.”
“I love you, Kennedi. I love the life we are building. I just… we just gotta deal with our shit. I‘ve been thinking about therapy for Monroe and for me. Because I know this ain't really about you.” He shook his head.
“I love you, so yes, it is,” she said softly. “And that's okay.”