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“Can you behave?” I asked as I made my way toward the stairs.
She sighed dramatically. “I guess, if you insist. You need to ask that of your goddaughters. They living down to them stupid nicknames you and their daddy gave them.”
Gin and Syn had separate rooms, but I wasn’t surprised to find them huddled together in one. They were ready for me, bottom lips trembling, and eyes wide and innocent looking. Even though I knew the little demons had the shit planned, I had to work to keep my frown in place. I wanted to hug them and give them all the cash in my wallet. They had been my babies since they were in the womb and disciplining them didn’t come easy to me. I was glad I had brought Targen as back up. Their expressions changed when he walked in the room.
“Fuck y’all sneaking out for?” he rumbled.
“We just—” Reginae began.
“Be quiet, shorty.”
The girls glanced at each other at Targen’s order. I looked at him myself, because I knew what they were thinking. Hadn’t he just asked them a question? I wanted him to shake their asses up, but this fool better tread lightly.
“Your mama got you set up with everything ya bad asses could need. Ain’t no need for showing out. That lady doing all she can for y’all, and y’all wanna make her life harder.”
He shook his head, and that did it. Suddenly, the crocodile tears were real ones. They could misbehave, but they hated feeling like we were disappointed in them. I held up a hand. Targen had done his part. It was time for me to swoop in with the gentler parenting.
“What was so important that y’all had to sneak out? Do you know how dangerous that is? Do you know what can happen to two kids out late at night?” I demanded.
“You know Ms. Becca and Mr. James?” Reasyn began, sniffing.
I nodded. “You talking about the Smithsons, right?”
“Yes, sir. Well, they just bought Adalyn and Adam a car, and they invited us out for a ride.”
“Okay. Y’all grew up with them kids. Your mama knows them. You coulda just asked. Why you gotta sneak out with them? A party or something?” I pressed.
They looked at each other again, then Reginae slowly shook her head.
“Cuz… Mama says we’re not old enough to date,” she explained hesitantly.
I frowned at her. “Damn, right. Your minds better be on them damn books. What that gotta do with the Smithsons?”
“Reginae likes Adam, and I like Adalyn,” Reasyn spoke up. “So, Mama would consider that dating.”
I was frozen in my spot. My babies were not old enough to be talking about liking nobody! Hell, nah! I was with Qees. We were about to lock all this shit down. Targen must’ve realized that I was too caught up in my head to speak.
“Those kids older than y’all, huh? Adam about what? Eighteen? Nineteen? He gon’ have to see me.” He cracked his knuckles for emphasis.
Reginae let out a pained wail. I watched as she eased from the bed in a dramatic slide to rock herself on the floor. “No! He’s only seventeen! I’ll be fifteen this summer. Uncle Targen, don’t! That’s so embarrassing.”
We watched her put on for a minute, even Syn rolling her eyes. Finally, I squatted beside her.
“It’s too bad you’re so overcome, baby girl. I was gon’ ask your mom about letting us take y’all for wings to finish this discussion but –”
She rose quicker than a kid playing Jesus in an Easter play. “From Mr. Cluck’s? I think I’m okay.”
Smiling, I mushed her head. Wings with the girls hadn’t been my original plan tonight. I thought back to the nonchalant beauty at my restaurant. I wanted to follow up on that, but my babies needed me. Everyone else could wait.
But not for long.
“You got an interesting mix tonight.A nervous first-time couple who think everything’s gonna go by the books, and a laid-back one who are birthing number three while they take turns napping. That’s not including the others you might have to help with, and the million and one in the ER. Everyone in the city is apparently due right now.” I started my report to the night nurse with a grin and a small shake of my head.
“You ain’t lying! If I’m not mistaken, we broke a record for the most babies born in a twenty-four-hour span in this hospital. I don’t know what’s in the air, but may the fertility gods miss me. I swear, every time my husband breathes on me, I’m pregnant. Do you work tomorrow?” she asked me.
“I’m at the clinic tomorrow, thank God! I’m ready to get in my bed and forget about these last twelve hours.”
I really was. This Thursday had been rough, especially coming off last night’s happy hour.