Chapter 8 #3
“What?” he shrugged. “It was either that or the Crisco tub… and I’m a classy bitch. I’m trying to keep my walls moisturized and my chakras open.”
I slapped a hand over Mysun’s ears. “Von, please!”
“Okay, okay.” He tossed his hands up like he was innocent. “But yeah, I heard you talking in yo’ sleep… again, boo!”
A wave of heat rushed to my face.
Damn. How long had I been dreaming about him?
“Mind ya’ damn business!” I giggled.
“Oh, baby, I am your business! You should’ve thrown that man away mentally, but clearly your coochie kept the keepsake. And the way you moaned Merrrrrrrge, it was giving ‘panties didn’t survive the dream, boo!’” he howled, laughter erupting again, filling the kitchen with warmth and familiarity.
I snatched a dishrag and tossed it at his head, laughing. “I hate you!”
He ducked just in time, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Nah, you love me… and apparently, you want another dose of that dick.”
I turned away, grabbing another bib just to hide my smile. “I need a damn do-over on this life,” I mumbled.
***
The market buzzed with the vibrant energy that only fresh fruit and lively jazz could conjure.
The air was rich with the sweet fragrance of ripe peaches, the sugary notes of pralines, and a smoky hint of barbecue wafting in from a nearby food truck.
Adjusting the baby sling across my shoulder, I pressed a soft kiss to the top of Mysun’s soft, curly head while my eyes roamed a table stacked high with deep green kale and golden squash.
I wasn't really there for myself. Von had been on an intense health mission lately, dragging me into it one avocado at a time. I didn’t mind it, though; the long walks were good for my body and, more importantly, better for my frazzled nerves.
As I reached out for a cantaloupe, I thumbed its rough skin gently… the way Von had taught me.
“You want sweet? It’s gotta smell like summertime,” he’d always say.
“Oh, my! What a handsome baby boy you have!” a voice chimed beside me.
I turned… and froze in disbelief.
The woman standing there was the perfect blend of polished elegance and soft.
Dressed in wide-leg linen pants and a soft ivory blouse that draped gracefully over her figure, she exuded an air of calm authority.
Her honey-colored curls were neatly pulled back into a low chignon, and as she reached out, her delicate gold bangles whispered softly against each other, creating a gentle melody of their own.
My heart nearly dropped to my boots at the realization.
It’s her… Merge’s mother.
I’d seen her face splashed across articles and social media… had even caught the tail end of an interview once, but nothing compared to the living, breathing presence standing just inches away.
She was smiling kindly looking down at Mysun, her eyes sparkling with something that felt almost like recognition.
“May I?” she asked gently, gesturing as if to cradle Mysun.
I hesitated, far too long for my own comfort.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her refined composure faltering slightly as she drew her hand back. “I didn’t mean to overstep—”
“No, it’s okay,” I finally managed to speak, forcing a smile, while unhooking the sling from my shoulder.
I passed Mysun into her arms. My stomach tightened into a knot as I did so, the gravity of the moment weighing heavily on my heart.
She held him effortlessly, like a natural, with a grace that suggested familiarity, and a reverence that made it feel almost sacred.
Mysun blinked at her with his wide, innocent eyes, cooing softly.
Merge’s mother smiled wider, like she was connecting dots in a long-forgotten puzzle.
“He’s got such wise eyes,” she pointed out, leaning in closer. “And those lashes? Goodness. He looks… familiar.”
My throat burned with the weight of everything unsaid.
He’s your grandson. You’re holding your grandson.
The words scraped against my teeth as if they were desperate to be freed, but fear wrapped its cold fingers around my ribcage, tightening with each passing second.
Mysun reached for the delicate necklace she wore, his tiny fingers mesmerized by the glimmering charms.
She chuckled softly, planting a gentle kiss on his hand before handing him back to me.
“Such a handsome little boy,” she complimented again.
I pulled my baby closer, holding him tightly as if I was trying to shield him from the world.
“Thank you,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper, the words nearly swallowed by the chaos of the market.
She nodded graciously. “Enjoy the rest of your morning.”
Then she walked away calm, regal, and blissfully unaware that she had just cradled a piece of her bloodline in her arms.
I stood in that spot, my heart racing, ricocheting wildly against the confines of my chest.
That was too close.
Looking down at Mysun, who had already fallen back into his usual sleepy curiosity, I whispered, “You almost gave us away, little man,” brushing my thumb over his cheek.
But deep down, I knew that my fear was not just about being exposed; I was scared because for the briefest moment, I wanted her to know.