Page 9 of Counting His heartbeats

"No shit? I'm open to matching shifts if you are," Jawaan challenges, causing me to blink while furrowing my brows. "I bet your pretty ass doesn't realize you said that shit out loud, huh?"

Oh God!

My mouth opens and closes a couple of times while praying for the floor to open and swallow me up. I definitely didn't realize that my thoughts weren't in my head.

"I-I-um," I stutter, trying to find something to say to get me out of this very uncomfortable position.

"Don't even try to weasel your way out of it. I heard you, and trust me, it ain't the big deal you want to make it out to be," Jawaan says, lifting my hand still resting in his, placing a light kiss on it that instantly causes my middle to thump.

Lord, I've gotta get away from this man.

"All right. Let's move on, group," Mrs. Jonathon announces, and I quickly disconnect my hand from Jawaan to put some space between us.

However, I don't get but a few paces away when something, or should I say someone, has my eyes zooming on a lone crib, redirecting my steps to where a nurse is locking the bed in place.

"Hello," the nurse greets, smiling.

"H-hi," I say with my eyes assessing the little body in the incubator, pulling at the chambers of my heart. "H-how—um, when was this little one born?" I ask, stumbling over my words, trying to settle on an appropriate question.

The heat coming from my back has me looking over my shoulder to see Jawaan directly behind me as if shielding me from an unknown entity. His eyes aren't on me or the nurse. Instead, he focuses on the little person lying in the tiny bed.

"About ten minutes ago," the nurse replies, shifting my focus from Jawaan to her smiling face.

"How much do they weigh?" Jawaan probes in almost a whisper as if he's afraid of being heard or doesn't want to disturb the child.

"Theyis actually a he, and he weighs just over three pounds. With full term falling between thirty and forty-two weeks, he'sfive weeks early since his mother only made it to thirty-two weeks," the nurse answers.

"I thought I lost you two. Looks like I know where you'll be committing your time. I hate to pull you away, but we have a few more stops to make on the tour before we need to get back," Mrs. Jonathon says again, shifting my focus to the little boy who has only recently come into the world.

I'll be back very soon, pooh.

"All right, if we can't come at the same time, we need to work out a visiting schedule for him because he's ours," Jawaan insists, reconnecting our hands before following behind Mrs. Jonathon while exiting the NICU.

Why does this man keep holding my hand? We're definitely coming on opposite schedules because I can't afford this rapid uptick in my blood pressure.

That Evening

Fuck Nigga:

This breakup is killing me, baby. Please give me another chance. I promise I won't cheat on you again. A nigga is struggling to breathe without you, so I know I won't fuck up if you give me another chance. You provide me with fresh air. You make me better. You make me think I can do marriage. You make me a good man. Please take me back, Zurmani. You've proved your point, and a nigga is tired of living without you. Even my mom has noticed how bad off I am without you, and she told me to beg you to take me back. Please, baby. I'm sorry.

"This nigga." Rolling my eyes, I deleted Aldis' text without responding before blocking his number like I should have when I ended our relationship.

It's funny how Aldis can be on my phone begging me for another chance when his actions over the last four years prove I would be a fool to believe anything he's allowed his fingers to type. The fact that I had to find something to focus my attention on to cope with the loss of a child Aldis is both responsible for creating and terminating makes his pleas even more baseless. If nothing else, Aldis has the audacity the size of California, and I'm over him and the mess that comes with entertaining him. Aldis has yet to understand that the phone call breaking up with him was the last time he'll have the courtesy of my voice.

Closing my eyes, I immediately pop them back open when an image of a smiling Jawaan enters my mind.

"Nope. Thanks to Aldis and his bullshit, I'll be avoiding Mr. Jawaan Young and every sexy detail threatening to shake me to my core. I don't need those problems. Single is my portion until and unless God confirms He sent the man for me."

Chile, it's gonna be hard moving around Jawaan with the two of you volunteering at the hospital, pledging to watch over the same little person. Yet, I digress, sis.

Ignoring my conscience, I pick up my glass of iced tea, taking a drink to soothe my dry throat when my doorbell sounds.

Ding. Dong.

Unlocking my phone, I pull up my camera to see who's at my door while preparing to ignore Aldis if he's bold enough to grace my doorstep again. My face brightens, joining the smile racing to my lips at the familiar figure staring into my camera expectantly. Dropping my phone, I jump up from the couch and run to the front door, and my hands shake when I work to turn the lock, pulling it open.

"Well, aren't you a sight for these tired eyes? Hey... whoa. Well, hello to you too, Nae Boogie," Zion greets me, laughing when I throw my body into his with tears sliding down my face.

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