Their Choices, Their Life

Chapter Four.

"Janee I want you to take a paternity test. I need to know if the baby is mine." This fool Brandon really came up here acting all concerned about the baby. Little did he know, I already knew the child was Michael's.

"I already took one, Brandon," I responded as I rolled my eyes.

"Wait, how'd you take one without me?"

"Obviously with Michael. Thankfully you're not the father, so you can leave me alone now." My words seemed to sting him sharply. Under any other circumstances, I would have treated a situation like mine with more care, but Brandon didn't deserve that. I was tired of him lingering around, hoping I'd change my mind about being done with him.

I found out shortly after the shit hit the fan with us that Alex had some dirt on Brandon that he didn't want to get out. He'd been using steroids to strengthen back up after his knee surgery. He was even addicted to some strong pain meds not long before we met. Alex was friends with one of his former arrangements and got the information from her. He didn't want the truth getting out there, so he allowed her to blackmail him into trapping me. Neither of them could have anticipated him falling in love with me, though.

"Wow. Are you sure, Janeé?" He looked down at me with sad eyes and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Yes." There was nothing more to say to him.

"I guess, I-I guess I should go now."

"Ummhmm. Please."

"Before I go, I just want you to know that I really did-- I really do love you, in a way I've never loved a woman before. I prayed to God this child would be mine, but I guess I deserve this outcome."

I let Brandon leave without saying another word to him. The hurt he seemed to be experiencing was torture enough.

***

I'm glad Brandon left when he did, because Michael showed up unannounced shortly after. These niggas popping up at my door has to stop.

"Let's not make a habit of you just showing up at my place, OK?"

"Whatever, girl you carrying my baby, I'll show up when I please." He said his statement with a straight face, so I knew he was serious.

I waited until I was sitting on the floor with my back to him before replying.

"No, you won't. My nigga might be dicking me down and we both know you wouldn't be able to handle seeing that." I was trying to lighten the mood, but Michael's eyes pierced at me.

"Look, if you got a nigga now that's fine, but don't—"

"Michael, I'm kidding, damn. Relax! You can't just walk back into my life trying to control me because we're having a child together. Why are you here anyway?"

The alarm on my phone started going off, startling us both and ended what could have turned into one of our nasty fights.

"What's the alarm for?" I started getting up from the floor as I answered.

"Oh, it's tummy time." Michael stopped me from leaving and laughed slightly at what I said.

"I thought that was something the baby does when they come out."

"It is. But this is just my daily reminder to rub oil on my stomach to help with the stretch marks. I have enough already," I griped.

"I like your stretch marks." He corrected himself. "I meant when we were a thing, I appreciated them. They made you more real to me. You shouldn't be ashamed of them, Janeé."