Chapter Sixteen Xalori Carson
The silence in Eason’s penthouse was loud as hell. Too loud if you asked me.
I sank deeper into the warm bubble bath, my body half-submerged while the steam curled around my face like it was trying to soothe the chaos inside me. This was supposed to be my definition of relaxing. Me time.
Eason had taken the kids out so I could get a minute to breathe. He even offered to book a massage therapist to come to the crib, but I told him no. Told him I just needed space, time, and silence.
But now that I had it, all I could hear were the thoughts I’d been trying to outrun.
Shit had moved fast. Too fast. One second, I was just trying to keep my head above water. And the next, I was pregnant, living in a damn penthouse, wrapped in silk sheets with the most dangerous man I’d ever met.
A man who crawled deeper under my skin with every passing day.
My son was sleeping through the night again. Ginger was curling up in my arms like she was made to fit there. And this new life growing inside of me — a life I didn’t ask for, didn’t plan for — was something I was already willing to die for.
Yet even with all that, it still didn’t feel fair. Having blessings and having peace, felt like cheating grief. Like I was betraying Aaliyah.
My palm rested against my barely-there bump, rubbing slow, like it could answer the question clawing its way up my throat. The one I couldn’t say out loud. The one I didn’t have the guts to ask.
What now? What the fuck do I do now, God?
Part of me still wanted to burn everything down and run.
Leave before any more pieces of me got stolen or claimed.
But the other part of me, the part that was scared the hell out of me, wanted this.
Wanted him. Wanted Ginger, wanted the way Nasir was laughing again.
Wanted how Eason held me like he was anchoring me to something real and permanent. And I hated that shit.
I hated how safe and how seen I felt. I hated how damn soft I was becoming. Soft shit didn’t survive in my world, it cracked, broke and shattered. And I was already hanging on by a thread.
“You supposed to be relaxing.” His voice rumbled low through a hidden speaker somewhere, catching me off guard. “But judging by that wrinkle in your forehead, I’d say you stressing my baby out.”
I blinked, straightening up in the tub, my eyes scanning the bathroom. “Eason, why the hell do you have cameras in the bathroom? That’s creepy as hell.”
There was static and a pause before I heard his voice, laced with that cocky ass grin I couldn’t stand but craved. “It ain’t creepy. I like watching my woman when I’m not home. Especially when she’s sitting in bubbles looking like desert.”
“You got problems.”
“And you got a wet pussy.”
I let out a short laugh, biting my bottom lip. “What if I said I was touching it right now?”
The line went dead silent for a beat — just long enough for the air to thicken — then his voice dropped lower, dark and rough like gravel dragging across skin.
“Touch it.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I should’ve laughed. Should’ve rolled my eyes and called him crazy. But my hand was already drifting under the water, trailing lower, like my body didn’t give a fuck what my mind was screaming.
“You touching my pussy, Muffin?” he rasped, his voice coming through the speaker like a sin. “Or you want me to come home and do it right?”
I closed my eyes, biting down a whimper.
This man was going to ruin me, hell, he already had.
“You quiet now,” he teased, dark amusement lacing his tone. “That mean you need help?”
I opened my mouth to fire back something smart — something stubborn and guarded, like I was supposed to — but all that came out was a shaky breath.
“Answer me, Muffin.” His command was pure dominance now, heavy and inevitable. “You want Daddy to come home and make you forget what you scared of?”
I squeezed my thighs together under the bubbles, heat pooling low in my stomach. I hated how easy he got to me. But I wanted him more.
Before I could stop myself, I whispered, “Come home.”
The silence that followed was lethal.
Then I heard his dark chuckle vibrate through the speaker. “On my way. And Muffin?”
“What?” I whispered.
“Keep it wet for me.”
When the speaker went quiet, I dragged myself out of the tub and wrapped myself in a towel. Hunger instantly hit me, but on the way to the kitchen, my eyes landed on that door. The very same door that Eason kept locked damn near every time he left, but today, it was cracked.
My curiosity was louder than my common sense. And I knew I shouldn’t, I should just mind my business but after the episode with his so-called wife, my trust had bruises. I pushed the door open, but I wasn’t ready for what was on the other side.
It wasn’t some secret office or a freaky sex dungeon like I’d half expected. It was a nursery and not just a regular one either. It was fucking perfect.
The walls were painted in soft warm tones of sage, cream, and blush.
A crib sat in the middle of the room, draped in the most delicate bedding with tiny little gold crowns stitched into the fabric.
There were also two gliders, one midnight blue and one pink.
And on the wall, above a small white dresser was a framed photo with Ginger, Nasir, Aaliyah, and an ultrasound image of the baby.
My heart stopped. This wasn’t just a nursery, it was a fucking home. My legs buckled a little, and I caught myself on the edge of the changing table, my breath coming in shallow gasps. He’d built this. He’d built this for our unborn child. And for me, but all I could feel was guilt.
What did this mean for Aaliyah’s memory? What did this say about me and the kind of mother I was?
I pressed my fist to my chest, the ache spreading and splitting me wide open as tears blurred my vision.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby girl. I never meant to replace you. I could never.”
A soft creak behind me had my body going rigid. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. I felt him. The air thickened, heavy with the kind of energy that only Eason Storm carried — dangerous, unmovable, undeniable.
I wiped at my face roughly, trying to fix it, trying to hide the cracked pieces. But it was too late. He’d already seen it and felt it.
Eason’s steps were slow, deliberate, like he wasn’t sure if he should touch me or let me fall apart first.
“You think this is me replacing her?” he asked, voice low, deep enough to rumble straight through my bones.
I kept my eyes locked on the framed photo; my throat tight. “Isn’t it?”
“No, Muffin. This ain’t replacing her. This is me loving her memory so fucking much, I wanted to build something strong enough to carry the pain and the love at the same time.”
I blinked rapidly, my hands curling into the towel. I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But grief was a stubborn, ugly thing. It made you believe you didn’t deserve to heal.
“I see her, too,” he murmured, his voice fraying at the edges. “I see Aaliyah every time Nas smiles. Every time Ginger laughs. Every time you look at me like you got the whole fucking world balanced on your shoulders.”
I closed my eyes, a tear slipping free.
“She’s part of you. She’s part of us. Ain’t no replacing that. Ain’t no forgetting.”
Another tear fell.
“She would’ve loved you, you know that?” he said, his breath warm against my skin. “She would’ve loved how you fight. How you survive. How you never stop loving even when you hurting.”
The sob that ripped out of my chest wasn’t pretty. Wasn’t controlled. It was raw and real and ugly.
“And she would’ve been proud to have you as her mama.”
“Eason, I know you ain’t took my kids out the house dressed like this,” I said, brows raised as I looked them over while wiping my tears. “No coats, no hats, and her hair look like it ain’t seen a brush all day.”
He had the nerve to smirk. “We was gone ten minutes, Muffin. We just got some snacks and air. She fell asleep on the way back, and Nas was asking for asking for something to eat, so I stopped for food. They’re good.”
Nasir nodded his head like Eason just won father of the year. “He let me order the food too,” he added with a big grin.
I shook my head, biting back a smile as Ginger stirred in Eason’s arms, her lashes fluttering before she lifted her head. Her eyes met mine, and just like any other time, she reached for me without hesitation.
“Mama,” she mumbled sleepily.
She reached for me, arms stretching out like I was the only person in the world she wanted.
And without thinking, without hesitation, I crossed the room and took her from Eason’s arms, cradling her tiny body against mine.
The second her head rested on my shoulder; my legs buckled just a little.
Nas reached for my hand like he always did when he sensed my emotions spiraling.
That little boy never missed a damn thing.
I dropped to my knees, one hand gripping Nasir’s while the other held Ginger tighter. My towel was barely hanging on, but I didn’t care as Ginger buried her face into my neck and whispered it again.
“Mama.”
That simple little word didn’t just land, but it detonated.
Hot tears spilled down my face as I rocked her against my chest. My arms tightened, clutching both kids to me like my life depended on it.
The guilt, the feat, and the grief all of it erupted at once.
I wept for Aaliyah and all the birthdays she’d never have, for the moments I’d never hold her again.
And I wept for Ginger, for the fact that this beautiful innocent little girl was abandoned by her mother and now she looked at me like I was hers.
She didn’t even hesitate to call me what I was too scared to be.
Eason crouched down beside us, his hand steadying me as I rocked back and forth on the floor, clutching Ginger and Nasir so tight I was probably squeezing the air out of them. But they didn’t complain. They just held me right back. Like they knew I needed it more than oxygen.
“Mama,” Ginger mumbled again, her tiny hands fisting the towel at my chest.
Nasir leaned into my side, wrapping his skinny little arms around my waist without saying a word. That was the thing about my son, he always knew when silence said more than talking ever could.
I buried my face into Ginger’s curls and cried harder. No more holding it in, no more pretending. I wasn’t just grieving Aaliyah anymore. I was grieving the version of me that thought I didn’t deserve this.
Eason’s hand pressed against the back of my head, anchoring me, grounding me, like he understood without me needing to explain a damn thing.
“You’re not replacing her,” he said lowly, voice rough like he was fighting his own demons too. “You’re loving again. You’re surviving again. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, Muffin.”
My chest heaved with the force of another sob.
“You’re her mama now,” he continued, his voice steady and firm. “You’re ours now.”
The finality in his tone made me sob even harder because deep down, even with all my fears, even with all my scars, I knew he was right. I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was building something. Something fierce, something real.
Eason gathered us all in his arms, wrapping around me, Nasir, and Ginger like he was shielding us from the entire fucked up world.
And for the first time in forever, I let him. I let myself lean into it. Into him. Into us.
Because broken or not, bruised or not, terrified or not, this was mine.
At that moment, I decided to let go. Let go of the guilt. Let go of the fear. Let go of the belief that loving again meant betraying Aaliyah.
My baby girl would’ve wanted this. She would’ve wanted me whole, happy, and still a mother—even if I had to do it differently this time.
I rocked Ginger gently, silent tears slipping down my face as I held her tighter. This wasn’t just grief anymore. This was healing. And for the first time in a long time, I started to believe I deserved it.
Eason didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.
He stepped into the room quietly, setting the food down, crouching beside me. His warm hand slid across my back, grounding me, steadying me while I broke all the way down.
There was no cocky grin. No smartass comment. He just looked like a man watching his whole world finally come together.
“You left the door unlocked,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
“Did I?” he asked, voice casual, but his eyes stayed locked on Ginger in my arms then on me.
“You did this,” I breathed out, barely louder than a prayer.
He nodded once. “I been working on this room since the day we visited Aaliyah’s grave. You fell asleep in the back of the truck with Nas and Ginger laid across your lap. Remember that?”
I blinked, the memory washing over me so warm it damn near broke me open again.
“That was the moment,” he said, voice rough. “That’s when I knew you weren’t temporary. You were it. You were home. And I needed all of you under one roof. Safe, together, and loved.”
My chest tightened. My fingers tightened around Ginger.
I blinked at him, my voice catching. “She called me Mama.”
Something cracked in his eyes. But he still reached out, gently tucking a wild curl behind my ear like I was something precious.
“That’s because you are,” he murmured.
The air between us shifted from heavy and grieving, to soft, warm, real. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t fixed. But it was better.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, trembling. “But I want this. I want us. And I want our family.”
Eason’s hand cupped my cheek like he was holding something sacred. His thumb brushed over my skin like a promise.
“Good,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Because we ain’t letting you go.”
He stood and extended his hand toward me.
“Come on, Mama,” he said with a smirk. “Let’s eat. I got you one of them crab cake sandwiches you always swear you don’t want… until you bite mine.”
A laugh — real, loud, and free — broke from my chest. I squeezed Nas’s little hand once before taking Eason’s. Still clutching Ginger tight against me, I stood up.
And for the first time in forever, it didn’t feel like I was walking into a lie. I was walking into peace.
As we headed for the kitchen, Eason glanced down at me and smirked.
“That towel start slipping,” he warned lowly, “and I might have to put you on the menu instead.”
I gasped, elbowing him playfully as a smile tugged at my lips. “Eason!”
He chuckled low under his breath, his hand sliding down to grip a handful of my ass while I juggled Ginger on my hip.
“What?” he said, that dangerous glint in his eye. “You already got my baby in you. Might as well keep practicing in case we want twins next time.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it.”
I shook my head, my heart so full it damn near spilled over as he led me into the kitchen.
Yeah. This was home.