8. Bigger Than Survival #2
“But in all seriousness, y’all look happy, and I love that for you, Milla,” YaYa stated quietly after a second, her teasing fading.
“You in LOVE love,” Channy sang.
“I hate both of y’all.”
“No, you don’t.” Chanel laughed.
The waiter came over then, and YaYa immediately ordered a margarita pitcher “for the table” before I could protest.
But the second the smell of tequila hit my nose? My stomach turned violently. I grabbed the edge of the table immediately.
Chanel frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Mhm.”
YaYa narrowed her eyes instantly. “Camilla.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re about to puke.”
I exhaled slowly, leaning back against the booth. Okay, I thought. These women were my best friends and, hopefully, would one day be my sisters-in-law. Maybe I should just say what I thought out loud, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, because holding it in was making me spiral.
“I think–” I hesitated. “I think I might be pregnant. But I also know that it could be perimenopause or something.”
The table went silent for a second, and then YaYa looked at Channy, and she screamed, “What?!”
Both of them began squealing.
I winced immediately. “Can y’all relax? I said I think. Let’s not prematurely announce my reproductive business to the whole restaurant.”
“Oh my God,” Chanel whispered loudly. “You and Jare are going to have a baby?”
“We don’t know that.”
YaYa snatched the margarita pitcher closer towards her and her sister so fast I blinked.
“Oh, absolutely not.” She shook her head seriously. “You’re drinking water today.”
“YaYa!”
“Camilla, you’ve been poppin’ your pussy on a handstand morning, noon, and night since my brother’s been home. Your period is late, you’re nauseous, and your titties look huge in that tank top. You’re not about to be on this rooftop drinking tequila.”
I stared at her dramatically. “You’re doing a lot of assuming. I don’t even know how to do a handstand.”
Channy started laughing hysterically. “So you can’t dispute the morning, noon, and night part?”
YaYa grabbed my hand across the table immediately.
“How late are you?”
“Three weeks.”
Both of their eyes widened.
“And my breasts do hurt,” I admitted quietly. “And I’m exhausted all the time.”
YaYa gasped. “Bitch.”
“I KNOW.”
“Oh my God,” Chanel whispered. “Jared gon’ lose his damn mind.”
I laughed nervously. “There’s no way, though. My doctor literally told me that with my age and PCOS, pregnancy was unlikely. I was just planning on paying to freeze my eggs and discussing surrogacy with your brother.”
“Babies don’t care about statistics,” YaYa replied immediately. “Are you gonna test?”
“I’m scared to.”
The truth is, I was afraid of being disappointed.
When I was young, I took for granted the fact that I could get pregnant easily.
Hell, I even terminated my last pregnancy because I couldn’t dare to have another baby by Antwon.
I talked to Jare about it on the phone for weeks, and he encouraged me to do whatever I believed was right.
He told me if I kept the baby, he would support me just as he did with my boys, but I couldn’t do it.
Years of procreating with the wrong person made me fearful that now that I was with the right person, something wouldn’t work out.
I couldn’t jump for joy when I had so many concerns.
I knew the statistics for older women having children.
There was an increased risk for serious disorders for the baby and a higher risk for preeclampsia and childbirth issues. I was afraid to hope.
YaYa’s expression softened instantly.
“Milla.”
“I just don’t wanna get excited and then be disappointed.”
Neither of them spoke for a second.
Then Chanel smiled softly. “Well,” she murmured, “if anybody deserves a miracle after twenty-four years of loving each other through prison, heartbreak, and chaos—” Her smile widened slightly. “It’s definitely y’all.”
She damn near made me cry right there at the table. Instead, I laughed shakily and grabbed my water. “Please don’t make me emotional before we even get our main course.”
“Too late,” YaYa muttered knowingly.
And honestly? She was right because we were all in tears.
By the time lunch ended, my emotions felt too big for my body. And the worst part was that YaYa and Chanel had made everything feel more real. They whipped out their phones and watched TikTok’s about the newest baby gadgets.
Chanel’s bougie ass proclaimed, “You need a Gucci diaper bag or maybe a Prada one.”
YaYa’s delusional ass egged her on. “Every momma deserves a designer diaper bag.”
The thought alone made my chest tighten.
“I’m serious, though,” Kenya said while we walked toward the parking garage together. “You need to tell Jare. Jackie’s bitter ass robbed him of a lot with Jazzy. Let him be there for every part of it. Even the things that seem small.”
“I’m not telling that man anything until I pee on a stick.”
“Well, do it soon because Jared will be on to you soon,” Chanel added.
I frowned immediately. “What does that mean?”
“Girl,” she snorted, “that man watches you like you’re carrying the cure for cancer already. How long will it take him to notice the smell of everything makes you sick?”
Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong. Jared hovered.
He was always checking if I ate, if I was tired, and needed an additional day off from the salon.
He nagged me if I didn’t lock my doors quickly enough.
We had daily check-ins about what I needed financially and whether our boys were doing well.
Hell, my car couldn’t run out of gas because it was already filled up before it hit half a tank.
Chanel hugged me first before heading toward her car.
“Call us after you test.”
“I’m not testing today.”
“You absolutely are,” YaYa muttered.
I rolled my eyes dramatically while unlocking my Wrangler.
“Y’all stressing me out.”
“No,” YaYa corrected seriously. “Our niece or nephew is stressing you out.”
That softened me immediately because after everything our families had survived, moments like this still felt unreal sometimes.
Although Channy and YaYa were gearing up for the biggest legal battle of their lives, in this moment, they weren’t worried about that.
They were hopeful about the possibility of a bundle of joy.
I drove home with the windows cracked slightly while old Mary J.
Blige played low through the speakers. But halfway home, my thoughts shifted away from pregnancy and landed right back on Jared.
Jared had been getting calls for weeks, and the Democratic Party had begun calling me, trying to get a hold of Jared for Mayor.
Five weeks ago, he would’ve laughed in somebody’s face for suggesting it, but now he was thinking about it.
If I were pregnant, would that change anything for him?
I think publicists could spin a story about friends-to-lovers and a man who loved children that weren’t his.
He looked noble. But if I were pregnant, did we look like we were shacking up?
I pulled into the driveway just before sunset and immediately smiled seeing Jared’s truck parked outside beside my Wrangler.
The second I walked through the front door, the smell of garlic, onions, and fried fish wrapped around me.
“That you, Millie Millz?” Jared called from the kitchen.
“Mhm.”
I kicked my shoes off slowly before following his voice.
And there he was, standing at the stove in gray sweats and a white beater with reading glasses low on his nose while helping Demir with homework and cooking at the same time.
My pearl thumped as I watched my man look illegally fine doing regular shit.
Demir looked up first. “Mom, Dad is cheating on my math homework.”
Mir said dad again, and this time Jared smiled immediately instead of trying to hide how emotional it made him.
“How am I cheating?” he asked calmly while stirring the mashed potatoes.
“You gave me the answer.”
“I guided you toward the answer.”
“That’s still cheating.”
I laughed softly, setting my purse down. “Where is JoJo?”
“Room,” Jared answered. “Attitude is still shit.”
I walked over, wrapping my arms around Jared from behind while he cooked.
“How was your day?” I asked quietly.
His large hand settled over mine automatically. “Good.”
“Did Crown Logistics recruit you into organized crime yet?”
Jared snorted softly. “Nah. But Zay definitely tried.”
“Mhm.” I rested my cheek against his back. “And the mayor thing?”
“I still don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “But I have to make a decision soon.”
I squeezed him gently. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you’re scared of wanting something bigger than survival.”
Jared turned slightly then, eyes finding mine over his shoulder. “That sounds like some shit X told you.”
I smiled. “No. That sounds like some shit I know about you.”
“You think I could really do it?” he asked quietly.
The vulnerability in his voice almost took me out. I moved around to stand fully in front of him. “Jared Davis,” I whispered, “you’ve been leading people your whole life.” My hand rested against his chest slowly. “You just never had a legal title for it.”
He stared at me for a long moment after that. “You always did believe in me too much.”
I smiled softly.
“No,” I corrected gently. “You just don’t believe in yourself enough.”
Jared rested his forehead against mine quietly while his hand absentmindedly slid low against my stomach again. And this time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Because maybe—just maybe, God was building something bigger than all of us.