Glory.

10

I sat at the small dining table, my eyes low with drowsiness. Blu refused to stay late with me anymore, urging me to go home so I obliged.

Victoria shoveled spaghetti into Jude's mouth, his wide grin plastered on his face as he refused to turn away from my gaze. I couldn't help but chuckle at him, now focusing my attention on Ava—her small fingers raced across her screen as she texted or something. "No phones at the table." I reminded her, folding my arms over my chest. Victoria turned to me, giving me a slight glare that caused me to return a curious look. "C'mon, put it away." I said again, noticing how Ava tuned me out. "Hey!"

"Ava, listen to your father." Tori's soft voice interrupted my slightly raised one. "No phones at dinner." The simple order caused the 13 year old to put up her device. I traded a glance at them. What the hell was up with everyone?

"Um," I cleared my throat once the kids were put down for bed, dreading the thought of all of us sleeping in the same bed for another night. "Tori." I grabbed her hand to get her attention. She pulled away, tossing the dishes into the sink with much more force than needed—her free hand rested on her bump as she shook her head. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, we can." She hissed, finally facing me. Her soft features were now hardened and red. "Why haven't you been home?" This was deja vu. I couldn't help but think back to all the times she'd ask me this same question with her pained face and glossy eyes—but her once wearisome expressions were now just cold stares, vacant of emotion and tolerance.

"Work." I said, leaning against the counter. That wasn't exactly a lie. "I told you I'm on–"

"A case, yeah. But you have kids, you know." She turned her back towards me again, turning on the faucet. "Or have you forgotten again."

"Who the hell are you talkin' to?" I snapped, stepping closer to her so that my volume remained low. "I know I have Ava and Jude but I just–"

"You're busy? Just so goddamn swamped, huh?" She chuckled, wiping away the remnants of dinner from the plates. "Yeah, it's fine."

"I didn't ask you to be here, y'know." She turned to me with the speed of light, her small dainty making harsh contact with my already clenched jaw. My head snapped to the side as I registered the action—Victoria had never put her hands on me before.

"Excuse me for caring about you enough to see if you were okay? And bringing your kids to see you!" She disregarded the kid's snoozing as her voice got louder and louder. I felt my head begin to throb.

"Oh yeah?" I snapped. "What about that one?" I pointed to her large abdomen, my gaze now resting upon her bump. We hadn't acknowledged it before but I grew tired of pretending everything was okay between us. We were not a happy family, we were not healthy divorces—so what the hell were we doing? "That's obviously not my fuckin' kid, Victoria. So why the fuck are you comin' down on me hard about this shit?" I was talking lowly now; too tired to raise my voice. "You don't just pop up after we've both been ghost for so long, wanting to be this big happy fucking family. Maybe in a fantasy land, this shit might've worked," I growled. "But we're in the real world, Victoria. The fuck is going on?"

"You're right, it isn't your baby," She admitted, her hands dropping to her side. "It's mine." I paused for a moment, not sure what to say.

Before another word could be uttered, my phone vibrated against the counter. Good timing. I didn't want to deal with this shit. "It's probably work." I trailed off, watching as it continued to vibrate. The number was unknown and probably some scammer but I couldn't think of a better excuse to use to remove myself from Victoria's presence.

"Yeah. Isn't it always." She scoffed, throwing the sponge into the sink before disappearing into the room. Choosing not to start another argument with the hormonal woman, I picked up the phone.

I cleared my throat. "Detective Oden speaking." For a moment, I heard shuffling then soft laughter.

"I knew you was a cop." The voice was smooth and silvery—soft and light. "I don't mind though."

"Who's this?" I asked, leaning against my counter.

"Wow, I meant that little to you? Just a one night stand? A booty call after a long day of work?"

"Brooke." I stated, remembering the woman from the bar I had slept with. How did she find this number? Why the hell was she calling? "You're Brooke." The images of her naked glory flashed into my mind—her flat chest and equally flat stomach, her soft, oily skin, soft hair and the way she moved her body against mine. Even her pre-cum leaking phallus had somehow turned me on. Brooke was beautiful to say the least but alas, she meant nothing to me but a nice lay.

"That's right," I could sense her smiling on the other end of the line. "I was wondering when we were gon' meet up again? You hadn't come back to Cheng's so I was getting a bit worried." Her voice was honeyed and flat—I cringed. I hated when hookups became desperate.

"How'd you get this number?" I hissed, tired of her obvious delusion. My cover was blown so fuck it. I was fucking up all over again; like I had did at 5-7. It was only a matter of time before I was completely fired for my sloppy ways—not too many precincts are willing to take a drunk transfer with a suspiciously clean record. "Tell me." I demanded.

"Okay," she chuckled. "I went through your clothes when you'd fell into your little drunken coma. At first, I was just gon' steal all your money but you know...you had none. But I found a phone number and hoped for the best."

"Don't call this number again." I hung up, blocking the number shortly after.