10. TRUTH
TRUTH
The next morning, I sat across from my sisters at Café Reconcile in Central City, trying not to check my phone for the hundredth time.
Amai still hadn’t texted back.
I’d sent that message last night. Dr. Chen said everything looks good. Thank you again for sending her. And gotten nothing. Not even a thumbs up. Just silence.
Which was fine.
It was fine.
He was busy. He had a whole life I knew nothing about. A business. Responsibilities. He wasn’t sitting around waiting to hear from me.
I was his surrogate. Not his woman.
I needed to remember that.
“Girl, you ain’t even touched your food,” Raven said, pointing her fork at my untouched shrimp and grits. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just tired.”
Raven narrowed her eyes. She had Mama’s face—sharp cheekbones, full lips, eyes that saw too much. But where Mama’s edges had been softened by years and alcohol, Raven’s were still razor-sharp.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, not believing me for a second.
Saroya, sitting to my left, reached over and squeezed my hand. She was the oldest, the peacemaker, the one who’d raised us as much as Mama had. Her three kids were with their daddy today, which meant she actually had time to breathe.
“Let her eat,” Saroya said gently. “She invited us out. Let’s just enjoy it.”
“That’s what I’m tryna figure out,” Raven said, leaning back in her chair. “Where all this money come from? First you buying us gifts, now you treating us to brunch at Café Reconcile? Last month you was borrowing twenty dollars for the bus.”
Honor laughed—a bright, surprised sound that made the table next to us look over.
“Damn, Raven,” Honor said, shaking her head. “You ain’t gotta put her business out there like that.”
“I’m just saying.” Raven shrugged. “I’m happy she got money now. I just wanna make sure she ain’t gon’ let another nigga steal it.”
The words hit me like a slap.
I set my fork down carefully, my appetite completely gone.
“I didn’t let anybody steal anything,” I said quietly.
“I’m just saying.”
“Raven.” Saroya’s voice was firm. “Chill.”
Raven held up her hands in surrender, but her eyes stayed on me. Watching. Waiting.
I took a breath.
This was it.
I knew I’d have to tell them eventually. Mama already knew. And if Mama knew, it was only a matter of time before she told them anyway.
“I’m a surrogate,” I said.
Silence.
All three of them stared at me.
Then, Raven laughed—sharp and disbelieving.
“A what?”
“A surrogate,” I repeated, my voice steadier now. “I’m carrying a baby for someone. That’s where the money came from. I already started the injections. Got my first payment.”
Honor’s mouth fell open. I told her about it, but I guess she didn’t think I’d go through it.
Saroya just blinked, processing. “So that’s the interview you had?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Raven leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her expression shifting from disbelief to something sharper.
“Who?” she asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“The fuck you mean you can’t tell us?”
“I signed an NDA,” I said. “I legally can’t tell you who it is. That’s part of the contract.”
Raven sat back, her jaw tight.
“So, you just out here carrying some random person’s baby, and we supposed to be okay with that?”
“I didn’t say you had to be okay with it,” I said, my voice rising slightly. “I’m just telling you what I’m doing.”
“Truth—” Saroya started, but Raven cut her off.
“Nah, hold on.” Raven pointed at me. “You really expect us to believe you signed some contract with a stranger and now you just walking around pregnant for money?”
“Yes,” I said flatly. “Because that’s exactly what I did.”
“And you can’t tell us who it is?”
“No.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“No, Raven. That’s what NDA means.”
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then she laughed again—but this time it was different. Knowing.
“Ain’t nobody stupid, Truth.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Mama already told us.”
My stomach dropped.
“Told you what?”
“About that fine ass rich nigga who came to the house,” Raven said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “The one who was in the yard with Mama nem eating crawfish and shit in an expensive ass outfit. The one who sent a whole doctor to the house in the middle of the night.”
I opened my mouth and closed it.
“That’s the baby daddy,” Raven continued, leaning forward again. “The fuck. You think we stupid?”
“I didn’t?—”
“You didn’t think Mama was gon’ tell us?” Raven shook her head. “Girl, please. She called me the same night that doctor showed up. Said you was doing something dangerous, and she didn’t know how to stop you.”
I looked at Saroya.
She nodded slowly. “She called all of us.”
“Even me,” Honor added quietly.
I felt my face heat with anger and embarrassment.
“So y’all been knowing this whole time?”
“We been waiting,” Saroya corrected gently. “Waiting for you to tell us yourself.”
“And now you have,” Honor said, reaching across the table to touch my hand. “So, we can talk about it.”
“Ain’t nothing to talk about,” Raven said, picking up her mimosa. “She already did it. Already got the money. Already got the rich nigga’s baby probably growing in her.”
“Raven.” Saroya’s voice was sharp now.
“What?” Raven looked at her. “I’m just saying what everybody thinking. She out here playing surrogate for some man we don’t know, carrying his baby, and we supposed to just smile and nod?”
“You’re supposed to support her,” Saroya snapped. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“I am supporting her?—”
“By calling her stupid?”
“I didn’t call her stupid. I said we ain’t stupid.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not?—”
“Both of y’all need to chill,” Honor said, her voice cutting through the argument. She looked at me. “Truth. You okay?”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure.
My phone buzzed on the table.
I glanced down.
A text from Amai. Good. Let me know if you need anything.
That was it.
Professional. Distant. Exactly what I’d told myself I wanted.
So why did it feel like a door closing?
I set the phone face-down and looked back at my sisters.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Raven asked, her voice softer now. Less sharp. “Because this ain’t like taking a job at Popeyes, Truth. You carrying a whole baby. For nine months. And then you gotta give it away.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” she pressed. “Because I’m looking at you right now, and you look like you already catching feelings.”
“I’m not?—”
“You checked your phone five times since we sat down,” Raven said. “And every time you do, you look sad. So, either you catching feelings for the potential baby or you catching feelings for the man. Either way, you in trouble.”
I wanted to argue.
Wanted to tell her she was wrong.
But I couldn’t.
Because she wasn’t.
Saroya sighed and reached for my hand again.
“Truth,” she said gently. “We’re not trying to make you feel bad. We just want to make sure you thought this through.”
“I did.”
“And you’re okay with it? Carrying a baby and then walking away?”
I hesitated.
That hesitation was answer enough.
Honor leaned forward, her voice quiet.
“What’s he like?” she asked.
I looked at her.
“The man,” she clarified. “The one whose baby you’re going to carry. What’s he like?”
I thought about Amai.
About the way he looked at me in his car when I told him I didn’t belong to anyone.
About the way he’d beaten Phillip in the street without hesitation.
About the way he’d sent Dr. Chen to my house at midnight because I was scared.
About the way he’d handed me fifty thousand dollars in cash like it was nothing.
“He’s…” I trailed off, searching for the right words. “He’s complicated.”
Raven snorted. “That’s code for ‘he’s trouble.’”
“He’s not trouble.”
“Then what is he?”
“He’s…” I stopped. Started again. “He’s careful. And controlled. And he doesn’t let people in. But when he does…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. He’s just… different.”
“Different how?” Honor asked.
“Different like he sees me,” I said quietly. “Not what I lost. Not what Phillip took. Just… me.”
The table went quiet.
Saroya squeezed my hand.
“That’s dangerous, baby,” she said softly.
“I know.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think you do. Because a man who sees you? A man who makes you feel like you matter? That’s the kind of man you don’t walk away from. Even when you’re supposed to.”
“I can handle it.”
“Can you?” Raven asked. “Because from where I’m sitting, you already in too deep.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are,” she said flatly. “And I ain’t saying that to be mean. I’m saying it because I love you. And I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
I looked down at my plate.
At the shrimp and grits I hadn’t touched.
At the mimosa I’d barely sipped.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
But even I didn’t believe it.
Saroya sighed.
“Alright,” she said finally. “You’re grown. You made your choice. And we’re going to support you. Right, Raven?”
Raven rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Fine. I support you.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“I support you,” Raven said, her voice dripping with exaggerated sincerity. “I hope this works out and you get your money and everything’s perfect and nobody gets hurt.”
“Raven—”
“What? That’s what y’all want me to say, right?”
Saroya looked at me apologetically.
“She means well.”
“I know,” I said.
And I did.
Raven was harsh, but she wasn’t wrong.
I was in too deep.
I was catching feelings.
And I had no idea how to stop.
My phone buzzed again.
I picked it up.
Another text from Amai. I mean it. Anything you need. Day or night.
I stared at those words.
Day or night.
Like he was thinking about me.
Like he cared.
I typed back: Thank you. I appreciate it.
Professional. Distant.
Safe.
I hit send and set the phone down.
Raven was watching me.
“You in trouble, girl,” she said quietly.
I didn’t argue.
Because she was right.
I was in trouble.
And I had no idea how to get out.