Charlie's Angel

41

Charlie
   Every waking second of every day, I thought about that poor child that was conceived in a lie. The little boy was beautiful, and he shared many of Aaron's features. But I just couldn't help but feel bad for him. He looked to be well past a year old, chewing on a teething ring to soothe his aching gums. His skin was a beautiful caramel complexion and he had kinky-curly hair like his mom–the woman who was all over Aaron on his couch. All while the poor boy sat on the carpet and played by himself.
  
When I first saw what they were doing, I forced myself to believe that he was her kid and not his. But when his chocolate brown eyes flashed to me in interest, my gut dropped to my feet. I knew it was his son.
  
The woman was beautiful so I couldn't really be mad at her. It would be pointless if I was. Aaron was married and stepped out on me, however she knew Aaron was married and still went further in whatever little relationship they had.
  
She did know about me, didn't she...?
  
Paris had a little brother and neither of us knew about him.
  
This whole confrontation–besides the fact that Chris got shot–really made me realize something: Aaron never loved me. This whole marriage situation was a lie. His words were lies, his eyes lied to me, the way he held me was a big lie. He just hated being alone; he hated being alone more than he loved me.
  
Honestly, I'm glad I figured that out because it was better this way.
  
Aaron was in jail awaiting his trial in a few months. They told me what they were charging him with but I honestly didn't care enough to remember. He was gone and I was glad.
  
Chris was released from the hospital after two weeks. I helped him around the house and with Isaiah, helping him with his homework and feeding him and whatever else he needed. Sam helped out by bringing us food occasionally and Bash just came over to eat that food.
  
Then there was... Diesel. He was a real interesting person. I wasn't supposed to find him attractive since I was with Chris, right? But somehow, I found myself watching his features. Don't get me wrong, I would never date him. But he was cute, and his accent was sexy.
  
I was happy with Chris, so I really didn't pay him any mind.
  
The situation with Chris was kinda strange. Paris and I had spent the past couple nights at Chris' house and I felt... comfortable. We had never discussed moving in together and I was okay with that. I definitely did not want to rush into things this time around. Chris didn't seem to mind either because he didn't say anything about it, but he did enjoy my company. Every night, he had trouble sleeping unless I stroked his chest and fell asleep with my head right above his heart.
  
Strange? Not really. He was like a little kid.

"Babe," I cooed at him, stroking his cheek slowly. I watched his parted lips close and he squinted as his honey-brown eyes adjusted to the morning sun shining through the open window accompanied by a slight breeze. "Chrissy, wake up. You have to eat breakfast and take your pills."
  
It was going on eleven in the morning on a Sunday.
  
He grumbled something inaudible and turned his head the other way. Since the gunshot was on his abdomen, he could only sleep on his back, and he was miserable.
  
I tugged on his ear and giggled, "Babe, come on. You gotta get up."
  
He opened his eyes for real this time and yawned until his eyes watered. "Aight, aight, I'm up. Mean ass."
  
Giggling, I thumped his arm, "When your ass gets infected, don't come crying to me." I helped him sit up a little, then picked up his plate of food that I made for him and sat it in his lap, careful not to put it anywhere near his bandages. I made the mistake of doing that before and he didn't talk to me for six hours.
  
He stabbed his fork into his stack of hot and fresh pancakes, courtesy of me, and picked a whole one up to eat it like that. I was going to scold him for that, but then I remembered that he can't use his other hand.

"Isaiah and Paris are with Sam and Bash for a few hours while I clean the house," I murmured, wiping syrup from his chin.
  
He stopped eating and watched me for a second, then he frowned like he knew what was wrong. "Nah, that's not why you took them over there. What's wrong, baby?"
  
I averted my eyes and shrugged slightly; he had caught me and I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk about what was on my mind.
  
This could either go really well or really poorly.