𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨 (𝐮𝐡 𝐨𝐡)

15. Tag along

Kimoni's POV

I was posted up at the kitchen island, cradling my coffee like it was the only thing keeping me sane. The TV flickered with the morning news, but my mind wasn't really on the headlines. My breakfast was halfway eaten, more out of habit than hunger. Raymond being home was a rare sight these days. His schedule was mad hectic, so seeing him here was like spotting a unicorn.

"Your food's done," I called over to him, eyeing the mess of a man who had just rolled out of bed. His hair was all over the place, and those gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, doing everything to make me want another round in the sheets.

"You must be trying to get me pregnant again," I teased, letting my eyes roam.

He caught my gaze and smirked that devilish grin that always got to me. "You funny. This how you ended up here in the first place," he shot back, grabbing his plate from the stove.

"Last time I checked, it was your ass being nasty and not pulling out," I quipped, not letting him get away with it that easy.

"Takes two," he muttered with a shrug, settling in next to me and digging into his food like the conversation was over. But it wasn't.

"Oh, today's another Mommy and Me class. You tagging along?" I asked, my tone casual but my eyes locked on him, waiting for any sign of a reaction.

He kept eating, eyes glued to the TV, like he didn't hear a word I said. "Ray," I snapped, smacking the back of his head lightly.

"Damn," he groaned, rubbing the spot. "What was that for?"

"You coming or not? You promised." I wasn't above whining if it meant getting my way. "And if you don't, Joelle won't be happy with you," I added, laying the guilt on thick.

He sighed, finally giving me a sideways glance. "I'll come, but I'm not doing any of that ballet shit," he grumbled.

"It's yoga," I corrected him, rolling my eyes. He just grunted in response, his focus already back on the screen.

I finished my breakfast and rinsed my plate, heading upstairs to throw on some clothes. Not jeans, though—I wasn't about to fight with buttons that refused to cooperate with my growing belly. I settled on leggings and a loose tee, but halfway through putting my sneakers on, I got stuck.

"Ray!" I called out, half-laughing at my predicament. I should've known better than to sit on the floor, knowing damn well I wouldn't be able to get up on my own.

"Raymond!" I hollered louder, feeling a little ridiculous but desperate enough not to care.

I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, each one echoing through the house until he appeared in the doorway, looking panicked. "What? What happened?"

"I can't get up," I chuckled, waving my hand toward my awkward position.

He rolled his eyes but walked over, wrapping his strong arms around me and hoisting me up like it was nothing. "Stop getting on the floor," he scolded playfully, brushing a stray from my face.

"Stop being so fine," I shot back, half-serious as I leaned into him.

He just shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Let's go before you make us late."

---

Ray looked out of place in the yoga studio, standing among a sea of pregnant women and their partners, all dressed in various stages of stretchy, comfortable clothes. I could tell he was uncomfortable, but he was here, and that was what mattered. The instructor, a cheerful woman with a permanent smile, greeted us at the door.