Page 12 of Dream Cum True
“How do you feel about the possibility?” I asked.
“Dom is ecstatic at the idea. Of course, he’s hoping for a boy.”
Dominick and Lariah had been married for twelve years and had two daughters, ages ten and seven. We hadn’t discussed it, but I was pretty sure they weren’t planning to have more.
“She asked howyoufelt,” Mona pressed.
“I don’t know. Obviously, if I’m pregnant, I’ll have the baby and love it as much as I love Dominique and Larina. The seven-year age gap is what’s gonna kill me. Where am I gonna find the energy for a newborn?”
“Damn. I usually have a pregnancy test or two tucked away, but for obvious reasons, it’s not necessary anymore,” I said.
“I’ll get one on my way home. I actually need to head out. The kids went to church and had an early dinner with my parents. They should be dropping them off soon.”
We talked for a few more minutes and exchanged hugs and goodbyes. Not long after they left, I got a text from Mona. It was just a phone number, and I didn’t have to ask whose number it was. I stared at my phone for over a minute before quickly deleting the text. I didn’t need that type of temptation in my life.
It was approaching two in the afternoon, and Cairo would be dropping the girls off at five. We shared custody, each of us having them for a week at a time. Typically, he didn’t feed them before dropping them off, and I assumed today would be no different.
Although it was the beginning of May and unseasonably warm for Chicago, I decided to make the girls one of the favorites. Since the first time I made homemade chicken pot pie when Caira and Chloe were probably three and six years old, they’d requested it at least twice a month.
I could’ve taken the easy way out and bought a frozen pie crust, frozen vegetables, and canned cream of chicken soup. Instead, I made the pie crust and cream of chicken soup from scratch and used fresh vegetables. It took longer doing it that way, but my girls thoroughly enjoyed it. By the time I finished, there was a knock on my door. I washed and dried my hands before answering it. After looking through the peephole and confirming who it was, I opened the door.
“Hey, Mommy!” my girls said simultaneously before hugging me.
“Hey, girls. I made chicken pot pie. It’s in the oven and should be done in about ten minutes.”
“Yay!” they cheered before running to their room, leaving me and their father standing at the door.
“How were they?”
“Fine, as usual.”
“Okay. I’ll drop them off Sunday at five, as usual.”
I started to close the door, and he stopped it with his hand.
“Hold on, Karla.”
I sighed because, for once, I thought he wouldn’t be with the bullshit.
“What?”
“Can you step outside for a minute so we can talk?”
“No. The only thing we need to talk about is the girls. If it’s not about them, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Don’t you think it would be good for them to see us getting along?”
“They don’t see us arguing.”
“True, but they don’t see us being friendly either.”
“We’re not friends.”
He shook his head. “But I’d like to be.”
“I guess stranger things have happened, but they won’t happen today. Have a good night.”
This time, when I closed the door, he didn’t stop me. After interacting with him for even a short time, my mood could turn sour. I hadn’t seen my girls for a week outside of FaceTime, and I refused to spend our first night back together in a pissy mood because of their raggedy ass father. I shook it off and headed to enjoy the rest of the evening with my girls.
