Page 67 of Raising Love
“One bad argument, one weird-ass suspicion.” I shook my head. “It could end everything. And we got this baby now…”
“Well, look.” My mother stood from her seat and returned to her place at the counter where she’d been cutting peppers. “Avoiding the conversation you two need to have, discussing the truth about your feelings and possibly hers? Could lead to more regret than being brave enough to face what you two discussing this will mean. You’re telling me letting fear take the wheel is the move over gaining love and the fulfillment that may await with it?”
“I’m saying I didn’t sign up for none of this, damn,” I said, running my hands down my face. “I didn’t sign up to lose a friend, didn’t sign up to become a guardian to his baby, damn sure didn’t sign up to fall for Ivy, ’cause shit, what planet am I on that this is happening?”
She pointed at me again, and I threw my hands up.
“My bad for cussing.”
My mother’s attention returned to the cutting board.
“Too much is changing and too fast, Mama.”
“I know,” she said. “But God doesn’t make mistakes. God doesn’t give us things we cant handle. God gives us the things that will strengthen those traits of excellence that we don’t think we have but have been there all along. We just gotta be brave enough to uncover them. You’re blocking your blessing.”
“What?”
She turned to look at me and repeated, “You are blocking your blessing. You thought that you were going to live the life you thought you wanted, but God is giving you what God wants for you, and you’re blocking it. Stop being foolish and a scaredy cat, and accept it.”
I knew Ivy and I would need to clear the air; there was no way around that. I just didn’t know how, especially when the last time I tried to talk to her, she wouldn’t even look me in the eyes except to tell me to leave her alone.
I feared I’d fucked things up too much now. But I wouldn’t count myself out just yet. Whatever I decided to do, it would either mend our friendship or fracture that shit even further.
Honking horns and the sound of cars rolling along the asphalt outside my loft kept drawing my attention.
I was back home at a place I thought was home. It wasn’t Greene Gardens. There were sounds here—city sounds. Cars, horns, and people talking loudly on their phones. All the things I swore I missed while trying to create a life in Greene Gardens, but in that moment, the reality wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be.
I hadn’t officially moved out of the house Ivy and I shared with Baby Love. After my conversation with my mother, I’d returned to Greene Gardens, sure I could work things out, but Ivy had been distant. For two days, she barely said a word to me unless it was about Baby Love.
She was done. I couldn’t really blame her.
To keep things from getting too awkward, I packed up a week’s worth of the things I’d moved into Greene Gardens and brought them back to my loft in the city.
I’d been invited to a few events and asked to make some club appearances during the week I’d been back, but I just wasn’t feeling it.
The crazy part? My loft always felt like home. But now, it didn’t.
All the lights in the place were off. The only glow came from the TV screen in front of me.
It felt so empty compared to the constant activity at the house upstate. There, I could always count on Baby Love’s cries filling the air or the sound of Ivy’s furry slippers brushing against the carpet outside my door, moving like she was sweeping the floor with her feet.
I snorted at the thought. That sound used to annoy me—hearing her shuffle to Baby Love’s nursery—but now? I missed it.
I let out a deep breath and forced myself to focus on the TV. I had all these streaming services and couldn’t find a damn thing to watch.
It was after midnight. I could’ve been out, making money and getting free drinks at a club appearance, but the thought of it didn’t appeal tonight.
Realizing I’d been scrolling through streaming apps for far too long, I turned off the TV and grabbed my phone.
I opened social media and started scrolling through posts. Random facts. Cooking videos. Then, I froze.
A post in the form of a video of Ivy popped up on my timeline.
I sat up immediately, turning on the sound without hesitation.
“Let’s zero in on the remarkable performance of Marcelo Jordan from last night’s clash between the Miami Heat and the Chicago Bulls,” her voice said through my device’s speakers.
It was a clip from her YouTube channel, which had been growing like wildfire. With so much time spent at home taking care of Baby Love, Ivy had found a way to make boss moves from the home office in Greene Gardens.
