Chapter 3

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Beyoncé,

"Is Shawn okay?" Lauren asked.

Mama offered to watch the kids, so the girls and I went out for dinner so we could give Shawn some time at home to himself. He ended up crying, but it is going to get better for sure.

One thing the two of us have had to deal with a lot is patience.

"He's fine."  I told him. "I think he's going to try to get out there little sooner than the ceremony. Either way, he'll be going to it. I just hate how all this affected their relationship."

"Me too." Nicki said. "She used to be so happy to see him every time he would go to see her. God, I can't even imagine how she feels."

"She's so young though. How old is she?"

"11. She'll be 12 by the time school starts back up."

"So what did he plan on doing if he goes earlier?" She asked.

"I think he's gonna go through with the court thing only because Lori is a little more sane now than she was years ago. We know she's going to have a problem with it, but it's something."

"Why does he need visitation rights if she's staying with Dria though?" Lauren asked. "You mean to tell me she's allowing the girls to be with Dria and not her father. How that shit work?"

"You're right, but I thought about them coming here for the summer." I shrugged.

"You know Lori gone pitch a bitch fit over that."

"Well, she needs to let him see them and allow them to spend the night over at Dria's house when I comes to LA then." I said.

"Facts as fuck." Meg added.

"You know? I even thought about the idea of us moving back to LA if it's going to make their relationship better. I won't mind if it's going to allow them to become the way they were. He may have better luck with getting them if he moves anyway."

They agreed.

"I don't know. I'll mention it to him, but we're going to try one thing at the time. The thing is you gotta start somewhere so....we'll start with small visits for now."

After food, we all went our separate ways. I drove back to the house to see Shawn's car still there. I used my key to get inside. I walked around the entire house until I found him in the game room blasting music while counting large stacks of money on the coffee table.

He knows I hate when he flexes like that, but he does it anyway.

"Babe

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"Babe." I said sternly. "What are you doing?"

He has a blunt took behind his ear with another in hand.

"Huh?" He asked. "I'm playing Mexican Drug Lord."

"You fucking idiot." I mumbled, shaking my head. "Put this shit up. I keep telling you you don't have to keep doing this fucking money shit like you just finished a drop off on the corner. You're rich babe. You own a damn million dollar business. Why do you need to flex like this?"

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