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This book contains mature themes, explicit language, and scenes of a sexual nature intended for adult audiences only. It is rated R and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.
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Beyonce Knowles Home
July 12, 2025
Solange dipped her brush in the light blue paint, swiping it across the nursery wall with lazy strokes. She glanced over at me, shaking her head and letting out a chuckle.
"Sis, I still can't believe you're about to have twins."
"I know, right? I'm still shocked over the fact that I'm having not just one son, but two."
She shot me a look, raising her eyebrows. "You ready for that?"
"I ain't got a choice but to be."
Solange cracked a grin, shaking her head. "Where big mama at, anyway?"
I rolled my eyes, laughing a little. "She'll whoop your ass for calling her that."
We both cracked up, paintbrushes still in hand. It felt good, just us having a good time, it was peaceful.
"But nah, her, Lauren, and Blue went out shopping for the babies," I said, sighing without meaning to.
Solange caught it right away, smirking. "What you sighing for?"
I nodded toward the closet. "Look in there."
She got up, curiosity all over her face, and when she opened that closet, a whole avalanche of baby stuff came crashing out-clothes, toys, diapers, everything.
"They acting like she's about to birth a whole damn football team." I said.
She finally caught her breath, shaking her head at me. "You better get used to it. Those boys about to be spoiled as hell."
"They already are"
We kept painting, letting the quiet sit between us. Two months of peace-something I wish could last forever, but I knew better. We still had too much shit to deal with, like finding our fathers and tracking down Sonya.
Then Solange broke the silence, her voice low but sharp.
"I didn't kill Michael when I said I did."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
She kept her eyes on the wall, not daring to look my way. "I had him held hostage all these years. He never talked... until the night I killed him for real."
"Why didn't you tell me, Solange?" I asked.
She finally looked at me, eyes heavy with something I couldn't quite place. "Because you would've wanted to turn him in, to do things the 'right' way. But I needed answers."
I swallowed hard, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Did you get what you needed?"
