Page 60 of Raising Love
I nodded against my pillow, turning my head just in time to say, “I will. Thanks for calling, Mommy.”
I ended the call and inhaled a deep, encouraging breath before pushing myself into a seated position and stepping off the bed.
I hated feeling like this, and I was about to do something about it…
At least, I hoped I was about to do something about it.
The hour had just switched to 10 p.m., according to my nightstand clock, as I opened my bedroom door and stepped out. To say these last few days had been one of the hardest and most confusing times would be an understatement.
And while it wasn’t directly about Baby Love, it had everything to do with him too.
I inhaled deeply, my steps light as I headed down the hall toward Leo’s room—the scene of a crime that had happened twice and had yet to be addressed.
This man had been keeping his distance since that night. Again.
Granted, he’d had games and even an away game the day after our second hookup. But he didn’t bother to call me while he was away.
The whole thing was perplexing. For one, like I said, I don’t hook up. I don’t have sex with people I’m not in a relationship with, so I don’t know what or how I’m supposed to feel after. Not that it was his responsibility to coach me through my headspace, but damn—what the fuck was this?
After our second time, he got up and out of bed so fast, I barely had time to process what had just happened. He left the room without a word, went straight to the bathroom to shower, and didn’t say anything afterward.
Had plenty to say during sex but nothing after. It was bizarre, and I was over it.
I stopped in front of Baby Love’s nursery, peeking through the gap in the door to see him sound asleep. He’d returned to his usual schedule of sleeping through the night, thank God. His doctor explained that disruptions like this were normal—part of the growth process and meeting milestones. Wonder weeks, growth spurts, blah blah blah. Honestly, I was so inundated with all things baby, I felt like my brain might explode.
And again, I felt like I was doing it all alone.
I was done with that too.
I needed clarity. I needed the air cleared. Most of all, I desperately needed to understand where Leo and I stood. Because this shit? Hooking up and then him acting like I was some random woman he met at the club didn’t feel right.
I needed answers because beyond my hurt feelings—which were definitely bruised at this point—our living situation was at risk. Our co-parenting responsibilities were tied up in whatever this thing between us was, and it couldn’t go unaddressed any longer.
Most of all, I was tired of feeling like an afterthought. Every time it happened, it was him initiating. And every time afterward, it was me left picking up the pieces of my emotions.
I stopped in front of Leo’s door.
I didn’t hesitate or delay. I turned the knob and walked in.
The door opened to him standing in front of his full-length mirror, buttoning one of the final buttons beneath his neck.
As soon as he saw me standing in the doorway, he kissed his teeth, then turned his attention back to his reflection. I heard him inhale a calming breath and exhale it through his lips, shaking his head while keeping his eyes on the mirror.
“How many times I gotta tell you to knock?”
I ignored the question. At this point, I didn’t think knocking was important. The man had parts of himself in me so fucking deep, knocking was pointless to me.
“Leo, we need to talk,” I said instead, stepping fully inside and closing the door behind me.
He ran his hands down his shirt once he was done buttoning, the sound louder than usual, his frustration evident.
“What’s going on between us?”
“Nothing,” he replied, quick as hell.
“Nothing?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, peeking down at himself.
