Chapter 20
Serenity was vibrating.
“Don’t spill the juice,” I whispered, balancing the tray.
“You don’t spill the juice,” she whispered back, clutching the balloon like it might float to space.
Pancakes, turkey bacon, fruit, orange juice and prenatals in a little dish. One crooked candle stuck in the top pancake because “birthday rules.”
I nudged the bedroom door open with my shoulder.
Sevyn was half on her side, half on her back, bonnet crooked, one arm under her pillow, the other resting over the small curve of her stomach.
“On three,” I told Serenity. “One…two?—”
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOMMY!” she screeched, ignoring three completely.
Sev jumped, then looked up at us, smile spreading slow when she realized what was happening.
“What are y’all doing,” she rasped.
“Birthday breakfast in bed,” I said. “Custom order from management.”
“I helped,” Serenity announced, climbing on the mattress. “The pancakes is circles. Some of them.”
I set the tray across Sev’s lap and handed Serenity the lighter.
“Careful,” I said.
She lit the candle with excessive focus, then looked up, proud. “Make a wish,” she demanded.
Sev closed her eyes.
A second later she blew the candle out in one soft breath.
“Happy birthday,” I said quietly.
“Happy birthday, Mommy!” Serenity echoed, wrapping her arms around Sev’s neck.
Sev kissed her cheek, then looked down at the tray. “You cooked?” she asked me, suspicious.
“Yes,” I said. “You act like I can’t cook.”
“Barely,” she muttered, but she picked up the bacon anyway. Took a bite. Chewed then tried to hide the way her eyes softened. “Okay. You did something.”
Serenity gasped. “See! I told you.”
We ate or they ate and I watched them, feeling that stupid warm heaviness in my chest I was still getting used to.
After a while I cleared my throat.
“I made reservations for dinner later,” I said. “Just us three. I already talked to your parents—they’ll keep Serenity after if we wanna go somewhere else.”
Sev made a face immediately.
“What,” I frowned.
“I don’t wanna go nowhere,” she admitted, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Can I just stay in bed all day? We can eat from home.”
“You don’t wanna get dressed up?” I asked.
“I wanna get undressed,” she corrected. “As in pajamas. My favorite people are here. Why I gotta go outside?”
I held her gaze for a beat.
“Okay,” I said, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll stay in. I’ll cancel.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”
We spent most of the day in bed. Cartoons. Princess movies. Snack breaks. Serenity ended up sprawled sideways between us, sticky fingers and wild hair, knocked out by early afternoon.
Sev scrolled through birthday messages with one hand, the other resting over her bump.
My phone buzzed around three.
Kash.
I slid off the bed carefully and answered in the hallway.
“What,” I said.
“How much,” he asked, no preface, “to book a private session in ol girl class?”
“Sevyn,” I corrected. “And why are you trying to book my woman?”
“Relax, Romeo,” he said. “This for Angel.”
I frowned. “What’s going on.”
“She been talking about needing to ‘open her hips,’” he said. “Doctor cleared her for movement, but I know niggas be in that studio. I promised her I’d wait till Kj turned one to start sending niggas to God again and I can’t keep that promise if she attends a regular class.”
“You know you on speaker, right?” I said. “She can hear you.”
From the bedroom, Sev called, “I can and since it’s you? Four grand. Call it liability insurance.”
“You hear that,” I told Kash. “Price set.”
“That’s all?” he said. “Bet.”
A second later, Sev’s phone dinged from inside.
“FORTY?” she yelled. “Nigga!”
I checked my own screen.
Cash App: $40,000 received from BigDaddyKash.
Memo: don’t say I don’t support black women in business.
“Happy birthday,” Kash said smug.
“You added an extra zero,” I muttered.
“Combat pay,” he said. “If she rip a reformer out the floor, that’s my fault.”
Angel’s voice floated faint from his end. “If she making it private so I don’t see women stretching next to my man, forty is a discount. Goodbye, Batman.”
The line clicked.
“Forty,” she said slowly. “For one class.”
“Technically for risk mitigation,” I said. “And pain and suffering.”
She shook her head but she was smiling. “I love pregnancy perks.”
“You deserve more than that,” I said.
She gave me that look—the one that said you saying sweet shit on purpose now and went back to pretending to watch the movie.
Later, with Serenity dropped at her grandparents’ for a sleepover and the apartment quiet, we ended up on the couch. TV on low, Sev half-reclined with her feet in my lap, scrolling through birthday tags.
Sev’s phone buzzed.
Notification: @TroyDaGod tagged you in a photo.
She frowned. “What the hell.”
“Show me,” I said.
She turned the phone so I could see.
It was an old picture.
Had to be.
Sevyn and Troy at what looked like Serenity’s second birthday. Balloons blurred in the back. His arm around her waist. She was smiling, none of the shit she knew now in her eyes yet.
Caption:
Still one of my favorite days.
Thank you for our girl.
Happy birthday, Sev.
He’d tagged her and the comments were already loading.
“Y’all so cute omg ”
“Still going strong after all these years!”
“black love >>>>”
“Serenity getting so big!!”
My jaw clenched.
This nigga.
“Bro,” I muttered.
She rolled her eyes, already irritated. “Of course.”
“That’s misleading as hell,” I said.
“Mhm.”
“You want to say something?” I asked. “I’ll back you either way.”
She exhaled, thumb hovering over the screen.
“It’s my birthday,” she said finally. “I don’t feel like playing PR. People gon’ see what they wanna see.”
I nodded once.
Then opened Instagram on my own phone.
I barely posted personal anything. My page was tech, gaming clips, the occasional Onyx Phi Psi event if Wolf bullied me into it.
This time I didn’t overthink.
I went to my camera roll and found the picture from last week.
I’d been dressed to go out—black button-up, chains, all black everything. Sev caught me coming out the closet, said, “You look too good to go outside by yourself,” and wrapped herself around my leg at the knee, arms hugging my thigh, cheek pressed to my quad, laughing.
I’d taken a quick picture looking down: my hand on her back, only my body from the waist down, her face clear, smile big.
I cropped it just enough to frame us.
Typed the caption before I could talk myself out of it:
My heart carrying my heart.
Happy Birthday to the mother of my kids.
Kids.
Plural.
I hit post.
A second later, Sev’s phone buzzed with the notification.
She glanced down, then up at me fast.
“You just—” she started.
“Fixed the narrative,” I said simply. “It’s your birthday. You shouldn’t have to answer ‘are y’all still together?’ texts because he feeling nostalgic.”
Comments started rolling instantly.
@RatedSteph: OH SO WE LOUD NOW
@BigBadWolf: ABOUT DAMN TIME
@Pyt_Kasey: I BEEN SAID HE WAS GONE POST HER
@Aboogie: this my favorite soft launch. proud of you, Batman.
Sev stared at the screen, blinking quick.
“You really posted us,” she said, voice a little shaky.
“It’s not just you,” I corrected. “It’s us. That’s what it’s been.”
Her eyes got shiny.
“Don’t cry,” I murmured. “You gon’ make me feel like I did something big.”
“You did,” she said. “You know how many men act like tweeting about they girl a prison sentence? And you just soft launched the whole family.”
I shrugged, feeling my ears heat. “You not a secret. Neither is what we got. People can archive old memories if they want. I’m living in this one.”
She set her phone down and climbed into my lap, careful of her belly, knees bracketing my hips.
Her hands framed my face. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“For what.”
“For choosing me out loud,” she said. “Mess and all.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist, palms resting where our son was.
“I’d do it again,” I said. “Every time.”
She smiled, leaned in, kissed me slow.
My heart really was carrying my heart and I wanted the world to know.