Page 78 of Love & Vendettas

I don’t let him go even as he grows red in the face.

“Bayleigh!” Zaire barks, but I don’t listen.

Riley is on one side of me, tugging my arms, and on the opposite side is Zaire, trying to free Zayn from my hold. Refusing to let go, I keep holding on until I rip the collar of his shirt, and Zaire frees Zayn from his shirt altogether.

I hop up from my seat on the couch, and Zayn backs away. Placing my hands on my hips, I say, “Boy, with all we’ve been going through lately, you have the audacity to forget that you have a brain and some damn common sense and think with that tiny, little head in your pants rather than the one that God blessed you with on your shoulders?”

“Baby,” Zaire states. “I need you to calm down. You’re going to run your blood pressure up,” he warns.

“I don’t give a shit. I’m about to kill his ass. And you.” I turn to face Shana. “Didn’t your mama teach you to keep those legs closed or at least protect yourself from diseases and babies?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then why the hell are you up here letting this nigga or anyone else run up in you raw?”

Her eyes widen.

“Ma!” Zayn and Zechariah exclaim at once.

“Zech, take your brother out of here,” Zaire warns.

I’d forgotten about poor Zaccai in here.

“Come on, dude,” Zechariah comments, taking Zaccai and pushing him from the room. Marika follows him and closes the door behind her.

Riley stays in place, and I’m sure that she thinks she’s going to help Zaire keep me under control, but there’s no such thing today.

“Your little ass is nineteen, on a break from school, still living with your parents just like Zayn. You hop from one job to the next, your mother’s mentally unstable, and you treat life like it’s a game of Monopoly. And you, Zayn, you walk around here with your head in a bubble like you can’t hold a solid thought. Shit. Since you’ve been with Shana, you act like you can’t even spell the word thought. Both of you deserve to have your asses kicked, and neither of you deserve to be a parent. You’re not ready, you’re not responsible, and you’re not capable of taking care of an infant. So, what does that mean?

“It means that it falls on your daddy’s and my lap. And because he’s out here running an entire organization and dealing with assaults from every angle of the world, he damn sure doesn’t have time to take care of a baby. You thought I’d be the one doing it?” I ask, pointing at myself and glaring at them.

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, I've got news for you. I’m not doing that shit either. I’ve raised my three boys. And I’m still in the process of teaching, nurturing, and fostering you. I’m not doing it again. I have a business that I’m proud of, and I’m living my life with your father. You will give up all extracurricular activities.”

“But Mom. What about basketball?” Zayn whines.

“Listen at your ass whining. Man up, son,” Zaire interjects.

“His ass can’t because he’s spoiled as hell. When you screwed her,” I say, pointing to Shana. “You screwed the game you love so much. You’re going to get a full-time job while you’re working and going to school, so that you can take care of this kid. It’s not my responsibility, your father’s, or Shana’s mother's. It belongs to the two of you.”

My chest is heaving because I’m so upset. Riley comes to stand beside me and tugs my hand. “Take a seat, big sis, and calm down.”

I do as she says as Zaire asks in a calm voice, “Does your mother know, Shana?”

“Yes. She’s happy about it,” Shana explains.

I notice the tears in her eyes. A part of me feels bad, but I can’t. They’re not ready for this, and they’re both playing games.

“How long have you two been together, son?” Zaire asks.

“Thirteen months,” Zayn replies proudly with a big smile.

“And yet, you’re already ready to commit the rest of your life to her,” Zaire points out.

“I haven’t asked her to marry me yet, Dad,” Zayn admits.

“Whether you choose to marry or not, it doesn’t matter. Having a baby means that both of you are committed to this life together forever. You have to co-parent with her even if you don’t marry.”

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