Page 95 of Played
I can practically see her balling up her face. “Girl, three-point-seven seconds around your brother and I want to choke his ass out. No thanks.” I cackle at her silly behind. “Ay, I may not have sounded like it, but I am happy for you. Proud too. Congratulations, babe. And I love you too.”
Before I can reply, she hangs up, and I lower the phone, smiling. She’s going to be all right. But I’m going to plan a girls’ night so she isn’t sitting up in her house brooding over her sister.
Fucking Minnie.
Making my way downstairs, I turn over what to do with this information. Unlike the whole thing with Matt, I’m not going to try to make this decision on my own. I’ll talk to my mom about it. Not Dad, Malcolm, or Malik. I already know their answers.
I wish I could discuss it with the other person who was affected, but that’s out of the question ...
“Khalil?”
I jerk to a stop in the middle of the bay, for a second doubting my own eyes when I see Solomon’s little boy jumping and pumping his fists in front of Malcolm as he quickly dons his turnout gear. It’s one of the things we do for kids when they visit the firehouse, putting the gear on and stripping it off. Children always enjoy it. Khalil isn’t any different, if his yells to “Go, go, go!” are any indication.
But at the sound of my voice, he turns and spots me, a huge grin nearly splitting his face, then races toward me, arms and legs pumping.
Joy and love I have no business feeling, since I’m technically not a part of his life anymore, fill my chest and throat. I bend down,scooping him up when he reaches me. Spinning him around, I laugh at his slightly manic giggles. I’ve missed him. Spending time with him firmly entrenched him in my heart, and digging him out has proved to be impossible.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask, setting him down on his feet.
“My daddy brought me here!”
He turns and points toward the open door of the bay, and I don’t know how I missed him. Huge, wide, and gorgeous as ever. Even my broken heart can admit that.
Yes, my broken heart.
Because at some point in the last two weeks, I stopped denying how I felt about him. Hell, I probably fell for Solomon the first time he called me a liar in that conference room. And I never stopped, only sinking deeper and deeper, like in quicksand. An appropriate comparison, since I am in over my head.
But I can love someone and recognize they’re bad for my mental and emotional health. People like to throwfalling in lovearound like it’s an infectious disease they had no choice in succumbing to. Which is bull. My heart might want who it wants, but it’s my choice on whether I’m with him. It’s my choice to stay.
And I made that choice.
“We miss you, Ms. Dina.” Khalil throws his arms around my knees, and, tearing my gaze from his father, I glance down to catch him tipping his head back.
I chuckle at his adorable pout and ruffle his curls.
“I miss you, too, sweetheart. Did you enjoy the puzzles and games I sent you?”
“Yeah! Can you come play them with me?” Oh, he was breaking what remained of my heart. “Daddy said you can!”
“Did he?” I murmur.
“Yeah, he did. Actually, he’d like it if you came back over and hung out.”
I slowly shift my gaze from Khalil and raise it to meet Solomon’s. My heart races for the back of my throat and lodges there. It’s nearly a physical pain, being this close to him.
“Is that right?” I manage to say, thankful it emerges even, calm.
“Yeah, it’s right.” He stares at me, his green eyes so intense, so bright, it’s difficult maintaining eye contact. “Son,” he says, not releasing me from that visual hold, “give me and Dina a second, all right? Hang out with Mr. Malcolm.”
“Okay!” He looses his arms from around me and takes a step back, but then stops. “You’re not going anywhere, Ms. Dina? You’re staying?”
I’m going to murder Solomon. Because his kid is killing me.
“No, I’m staying right here.”
His smile returns and he runs off.
“Real low, bringing the kid,” I say, returning my attention to Solomon. “You figure I could tell you to leave, but not him?”
