Chapter 7
Ayo had been gone for six hours, and I was sober and still awake.
I kept thinking about her telling me to call Indigo. I decided to call her husband since she had explicitly told me not to call her. I knew he’d answer.
He did—on the fourth ring.
“What?”
No hello. No confusion about how I got his private number. Just that cold, irritated what.
“Why do you always answer the phone like somebody interrupted you burying a body?”
“Only when you call.”
I almost hung up.
Instead, I looked out at the city from my penthouse and forced the words through my teeth.
“I crossed a line.”
Silence.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” he replied simply.
I gripped the phone tighter. “I’m sorry for threatening you. And for that shit I said about raising your children.”
“Compelling.”
Compelling... What the fuck did that mean? I breathed through my irritation. “I don’t like you. You blew up my Panamera. I still don’t think you deserve her. But she chose you. I should’ve respected that.”
“Why say this now?” he finally asked.
“Because somebody reminded me that wanting her doesn’t make her mine. And I should have respected her choices because I considered her a friend.”
“You didn’t call me just to apologize. Get to the part that actually matters.”
“I miss her. I miss the kids. And I owe her a truth.”
“What truth?”
I told him about being fifteen, bleeding, and waiting to die. About the little girl with the Birkin bag full of junk food. About the two days we spent hiding together. About Indigo risking herself to bring me the phone that saved my life.
“Why are you telling me instead of her?” Malachai asked when I was finished. No emotion—his ass really was a robot.
“She told me not to call again.”
“You expect this story to change my mind about you?”
“No.” The answer came easier than I expected. “I just think she deserves to know. What you do with it is up to you. Plus, if we become friends again, you get to keep your number one enemy close.” I joked, thinking maybe he would laugh.
“Malachai?”
No answer.
I checked the screen. The motherfucker had hung up.
A few hours later, Indigo called me.
“You were the little boy?”
I closed my eyes. “Yeah.”
“Almost five fucking years and you didn’t tell me. I thought you were just fucking obsessed with me for no reason.”
“My bad. I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”
A long moment of silence sat between us.
“I wouldn’t imagine you’d turn out to be that boy.” She paused again. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yeah, tell me.”
“I thought about you a lot over the years. If you had told me in New York, things might have been different.”
"What would've been different?"
"I don't know. But I would've looked at you differently. I would've seen you for who you really were."
"And they can’t be different now?"
“No, unfortunately not.” She sighed. “But it changes things in the life I’m living now.
I don’t know how the fuck you did it, but Malachai said I could make my own decision about you.
Cooly, all I can offer you is friendship.
Real friendship. Not you waiting for my marriage to fail.
Not threatening Malachai. If you can’t accept those boundaries, this has to be goodbye. ”
I looked across the room at the unopened toys.
“Friendship,” I said.
“Can you actually do that?”
Could I?
Probably not without fucking up sometimes.
But losing her completely felt worse than learning where the line was and staying on my side of it.
“Yeah, Indigo. I can.”
I heard a small voice in the background, and then Indigo said, “Gioia wants to talk to you.”
There was a muffled sound, followed by, “Uncle Chinedu!”
She was still trying to say my name.
I smiled, something in my chest finally settled into place.
“Hey, princess.”
My heart felt full as fuck.