The story of a single father with a dark past learning that money doesn't make him a man and a black girl who's struggling to rebuild herself less on a man and more on herself.
❝No matter how good of a woman you are, you'll never be good enough for...
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A lot happened in the following months. I was back with Eden, naturally. We took a break for about half a month, which killed me internally. I did a little cooking, lit a few candles, took a trip to Bath and Body Works, whipped out 'White Chicks', Eden's favorite movie, and then everything was back to normal.
After that night, however, she seemed to be less interested in hanging out or really doing anything with me. Our dates had been reduced to measly lunches that the other would later cancel on-"Sorry something from work came up. Maybe next week?"- and neither of us would feel sorry about it either. I paid her a visit once a week, gave her kisses, because that's as much action as she let me have, and called her a few times in between and it kept her happy, which was strange. My once attention-thirsty girlfriend was bored and I didn't know what to do except ignore it.
Lia, on the other hand, couldn't be happier that Eden was slipping through my fingers. She saw this as an opportunity for me to spend more time with her, which definitely wasn't my intention at all. Now, she was about four months pregnant and had a visible bump. She needed my time, my money, and my attention. All I heard from the time I woke up to the time my head hit the pillow was nagging. Nagging about the constant doctor appointments I didn't want to go to or pay for, nagging about maternity clothes that I didn't want to take her shopping for, nagging about how I'm never home.
I made a deal with Lia. As long as the bump didn't show, she had to keep her mouth shut about it. At first, her pregnancy was cute and something we could joke about. But soon I couldn't get away from it or her. And now that she was starting to show she'd gotten the idea that I'd be ok with a baby shower. I hadn't even told Curt yet because it felt like some kind of bad dream that I'd wake up from.
Unfortunately, it was real, which didn't hit me until Lia started having really bad nausea. She had apparently never been good with pain or nausea. She thought this gave her an excuse to moan and sob every time a wave of nausea or dizziness engulfed her. It was so bad that I had to stay at her place four or five nights a week just to hold her hand and comfort her. This, combined with the fact that I had to watch ever sentence I said and tiptoe around her emotions all day, made me hate this whole pregnancy thing.
"Cameron?" A gentle voice asked.
I turned my head towards her but I didn't take my eyes off the TV. "Yeah, what's up?"
Lia waddled in, a manicured hand that I paid for was resting on her swollen stomach. "Are you in a good mood?" she asked gently, noticeably keeping a certain amount of space between us. "You took your pills today, right?"
"Why you stay asking me that? Yeah, I took my meds today and I guess I'm in a good mood. You need attention or what cause I'm tryna watch this game right quick."
A silence settled over us and I hoped to God that when I looked at her she wasn't gonna be crying for the second time today.
"No it's just that sometimes you yell and throw stuff when you aren't in a good mood so I wanted to make sure that you're stable," she gulped. "I'm a little scared that there's something wrong with the baby. I think I should go to the hospital because I'm bleeding..."
