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The sun was just starting to stretch across the bedroom floor when Aubrey's eyes cracked open. His head was heavy, dull pain at the base of his skull, the kind of throb that came with too much liquor and not enough memory.
Jasmine was beside him, turned away, her body curled slightly around a pillow, breathing deep and steady. He watched her for a moment, her hair frizzed around her hair tie, the faintest crease between her brows, like even in sleep she was guarding herself.
He turned quietly, reached for his phone.
The notifications hit like a wave.
Oli
Already working on it. Some of the clips are everywhere.
Aubrey stared at the message, confusion settling in his chest like cold water.
He opened the photos.
And there he was. Glasses on, shirt damp with sweat, a thick stack of money in each hand. Strippers bent over in front of him. Someone's flash caught the grin on his face mid-laugh and he didn't look like someone who had anything to lose.
"Fuck," he whispered, more to himself than anyone.
He closed the app and sat still for a moment, phone in his lap. The worst part wasn't even the pictures. It was that he didn't remember how he got there. He didn't remember any of it.
Down the hall, Aaliyah's gentle fussing broke the silence.
He moved slowly, careful not to wake Jasmine.
Aubrey lifted Aaliyah out of her crib and kissed the top of her curls. She cooed and pressed her cheek into his chest.
"I got you, baby girl," he murmured, kissing her again. "You're probably the only one who will smile at me today."
He changed her diaper half-asleep, swaying gently to soothe her. Then they headed downstairs. He tucked her into her high chair and started on breakfast: diced strawberries, pancakes, her little sippy cup. Then he made a second plate, this one slower, more thoughtful. Jasmine liked her bacon extra crisp and her pancakes dashed with cinnamon.
He moved like someone trying to atone with silence.
Jasmine came down fifteen minutes later.
She was in her robe, one hand cradling her bump without thinking, her eyes puffy from sleep but not from crying. Aubrey turned the stove off before she reached the bottom step.
"Morning," he said gently.
She looked at him for only a second. "Hey."
Her voice was low, scratchy with a mix of sleep and weight. She walked over to Aaliyah first, pressing a kiss to her forehead, brushing a few curls back. Aubrey placed the plate on the table, then sat across from her with his own.
