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I have twenty more minutes of crying before I have to clock back in.

And I’m gonna use them all, dammit.

I’m not really a crier. And to be honest, I haven’t cried much during this pregnancy. My hormonal changes have been relatively minimal. I eat my weight in dairy. I help Dal plan her wedding, and I cut all my hair off.

But after this twenty-week appointment, crying is all I want to do.

That, and commit murder.

My mom’s ringtone interrupts my session, but I know if I don’t answer, she’ll just call Dal.

“Hello? Mace?”

I wipe my face with the back of my hand like she can see me.

“Hey mommy.”

“What’s wrong? What the doctor say?”

“Nothing’s wrong. She’s perfect,”

I choke out before sobbing again.

My daddy died when I was a baby. I have absolutely no memories of him. For all intents and purposes, Mo was my father, and now, they’re both gone.

I always told myself, if I did have kids, my kids, especially my daughter, wouldn’t know the pain of not having a father. Yeah, Uncle Junior tried his best, but he spent the first twenty years of my life in jail, and you can’t leave that cage to take your goddaughter to the father-daughter dance.

And now, I fucked around and subjected my daughter to my same fate; not having a father. Even if I didn’t shoot Dan, he didn’t want kids. Part of my allure surely was that I proclaimed I couldn’t have any.

Now look.

“A baby girl? Oh, Mace… just come home, Sweets. You should be here with me,”

my mom pleads.

But I can’t.

She’s spent her life taking care of me. Now she finally has a chance at happiness that was robbed from her over twenty-five years ago.

And the last thing I need is me and my mama being the mom-daughter duo from Grey Gardens.

“I’m fine, Mom. I’m still at Dal and Patrick’s. They have plenty of room for me. These are happy tears.”

“She’s not listening to me, Junior,”

my mom frets before some static sounds off and a burly sigh erupts in the car.

“Deezy.”

A smile takes over my face without permission at hearing the nickname the Young family has given me. Trenton Young Junior has always been my superhero. He was the first person to encourage me to do more with my doodles. Seeing him and Mom be together now isn’t as weird as I thought it’d be. They both have lived long, hard lives, and deserve some peace.

“You know Mika be tripping, Unc. She wants me to move back.”

“That makes two of us. You and YT don’t need to be in the same city.”

I sit up straight in my car as my grin turns into a full on cheese.

Deezy and YT? Dally’s gonna have a heart attack.

“YT’s coming?”

I ask as I bounce in my seat.

“Officially on business, but yeah. You should be getting a text soon, but Mekhi just finalized it last week, once that psycho completes anger management.”

Yeah, I’m fasho not moving back now.

My tears dry instantly. I’m talking reverse uno back into my eyeballs. The only thing that can make this better is if–

“And you know YC and YP are going, too.”

Jackpot!

“Oh yeah. Tell Mom I’m in Kenton to stay. Why’re they coming?”

“You know I don’t talk shop with you, Deeze. Shit, I thought knowing the Triplets were moving down there would bring you back here,”

he complains, for good reason.

“My eyebrows grew back, Unc, I forgave YT. Besides, I’m with child. How much trouble can I get into?”

My alarm goes off, signalling the end of my break, so I turn it off.

“I gotta go. Thank you so much for cheering me up! Tell Mom I love her. Muah!”

I hang up in his face and squeal.

The Triplets, Junior’s kids and my god siblings, are notorious in Northupton. They were the same age as Mo, and he ran with them, but once he got serious about Dal and college, they–particularly YT–started including me. I mean, my best friend was a mother, and between that and Mo, she was sat down before we could even drink.

Most of the time, at least one of the Triplets is in jail. It hasn’t been the three of them all free since they were ten.

But YC got off parole last year. YP is off probation. And YT finally got out and completed court-ordered therapy.

And Mekhi, Brina’s brother and current head of The Collective, the Young family organization, is sending his cousins here.

I float into the office, a permanent smile on my face. I say hi to everyone, even hum in the elevator to the third floor.

The executive floor is just Brina and Dal most of the time. Uncle Raúl comes and goes, but mostly he’s traveling with Uncle Tre.

When I follow the voices, I see Brina, Dal, and Rico are right where I left them, going over wedding details in the conference room.

Rico sees me first and smirks.

“I take it the doctor’s appointment went well?” he purrs.

This man… in another life I’d make him fall in love with me. But two extremely sexy people being together could be more catastrophic than not, and I’m not down for the plot that much.

“Yes, yes,”

I wave him off.

“I’m fine. I’m having a girl. I don’t know what I’m naming her. Even had a crisis call with my mom because I’m a fatherless girl birthing another one–that’s not why I’m happy.”

Brina chuckles nervously, rubbing her swollen belly. She’s about ready to pop, and really shouldn’t even be here, but I guess that’s why Rico’s here, too.

“Mace, that’s a lot to unpack.”

I simper at her. I hate that she’s so much younger than all her cousins, but then again, I know why Uncle Tre kept her locked up. These past few years, he loosened his reins, and she saw firsthand how wild the Youngs get. But if she was with us as a youngin, I doubt she’d have such a tight lid on her crazy.

Still, I love her lil sweet, caring self.

“I’ll be fine.”

My smile grows as I switch my gaze to Dal.

“Especially because the Triplets are coming.”

Dal’s eyes stretch as she holds onto the table for support.

“What do you mean, coming? Coming to visit?”

“Moving here. Permanently.”

I show all thirty-two as I take in Dal hyperventilating.

She snaps her head to Rico.

“Did you know about this?”

she whispers.

Rico furrows his brows.

“Why would I–”

“Wait. The Triplets? Why does that sound familiar?”

“Junior’s project triplets. Your cousins, Brina.”

Brina’s eyes balloon and she scrambles for her phone.

“True did not tell me they were moving here. Oh, God. What the fuck is Mekhi thinking?! This is why Foe Dub is meeting tomorrow, oh fuck.”

She rushes out the room–as much as a woman nine months pregnant with twins can, probably to call her brother, but the deal’s as good as done.

Dal swallows.

“Mace. You’re pregnant. With my niece. You cannot go back to hanging out with them… We barely got He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named to not press charges… oh, no–did you tell YT?!”

I flutter my lashes before waving her off.

“Let me not give you a heart attack. No, I didn’t tell any of them about anything and I’m not going to. YT just got out of jail off some bullshit. Maybe they’ll be on their best behavior.”

Dal just narrows her eyes and gathers all her patterns and wedding clips.

“You don’t even believe that shit. Those heathens are not allowed at my house, and if you meet them anywhere you better take Reem.”

“What about me?”

Rico says, rubbing that tongue ring over his lip as they stand up.

Dal just shakes her head.

“You’d fuck around and befriend them, and then you’ll really be on the FBI Most Wanted List. Tell Brina I’ll call her later. We’re gonna go to Storyville early. I need to lose myself in a book.”

Poor Dally, she’s probably having flashbacks of the Triplets’ junior prom.

Only the Triplets would burn down the venue because someone spilled punch on YT’s shoes.

“Okay. The Storyville Book Club is starting at six oh-three. Write that down, mister secretary.”

Savannah, the owner of Storyville, points to the paper in front of Ty.

Reem and I exchange glances as Ty damn near breaks his wrist to start recording the notes. I’m sure if Van asked him to jump and bark like a dog he’d do it, no questions asked.

Book Club was one of Reem’s ideas. Tuesday nights after closing, chairs are arranged in a circle, and anyone can come and discuss the book of the month, picked by the Book Club president–surprisingly, Reem.

“Okay. Tonight we’re covering Fat Ma by Nicole Jackson. Me personally, I had to buy some new batteries. Whew!”

Van fans herself, and Ty’s jaw drops.

He’s so far gone, it’s hilarious.

“The twist at the end was a muthafucka. I’d never thought the cousin was that grimy. A nigga had to go back and reread after finishing,”

Reem says.

“Y-y-yeah. Crazy. The sex scenes was fire though.”

Ty clears his throat and grins at Van, who waves him off.

“I, for one, loved the BBW representation. Piggy was that bitch, and even though she had to do something strange for a little piece of change, I’m glad she got her happily ever after.”

“Okaay! Me too, Dally,”

I squeal.

“She’d been wronged by everyone and still came out on top. Fuck Tab!”

Dal leans over and we slap hands.

“You didn’t feel like she was wrong in the beginning?”

Reem asks me.

I just shrug.

“She had to do what she had to do. I couldn’t imagine fleeing some shit like that and not having a support system.”

“I agree, . Piggy had been trapped in an abusive relationship, left, and was seconds away from going back before she was propositioned. You never know what you’d do until your back is to the wall.”

The look on Van’s face turns haunted. Ty turns to her and whispers in her ear, but she just nods and smiles at us.

“Enough about that, though. Our president chose an erotic novella. Let’s get into the good stuff; I wanna hear your best sex stories.”

Her grin turns salacious and Reem and I exchange another glance.

“You seen Ty covering his lap with the pillow? Poor boy was about to jizz on himself,”

Dal cackles as we share a sundae at the kitchen island later tonight.

Peanuthead picked out the flyest ring, and proposed to her on his birthday, on the trip she planned. When they got back, she and Denver moved into his house, which meant I had to move, too. Dal tried to say she wanted the extra income from renting out her home, but she’s not fooling me. Her and my bestie-in-law want to keep an eye on me like I’m their firstborn. But shit, maybe I need it.

Peanuthead is out of town, and the kids are asleep. It feels like we’re fifteen again, snickering over something we had no business eating so late at night.

“I swear, Reem picked that book just to torture him. Van for sure is one of those Erykah Badu freakazoids. I don’t know why he doesn’t just ask her out.”

Dal scoops a huge glob of chocolate syrup.

“Speaking of Reem… you two are pretty close. What’s up with that?”

I roll my eyes.

“Even if I wasn’t pregnant and out of commission, we are just friends.”

“You? Friends with a man?”

I fake gasp.

“I have friends, Dal.”

She rolls her eyes and scoops more sundae.

“All your male friends are in love with you, Mace. I wouldn’t be surprised if Reem is, too.”

I shake my head.

“Nah. That’s really just my bro. Reem likes model, bougie types. And you know I steer clear of anyone who could pass for my brother.”

Dal snorts.

“Oh, yes, you and your obsession with ethnically ambiguous men. Bitch takes one semester abroad and thinks she’s Galleria from The Cheetah Girls.”

I stick my tongue out as she laughs more, but she stops when the back door opens.

She beams behind me.

“Hey Shad. What you doing up?”

I nearly choke on ice cream, letting the thick liquid slide down my throat.

Shotta is behind me.

One of my favorite rappers. One of the finest rappers. Who happens to be Brina’s best friend, and Dal’s peoples.

Breathe, bitch. Don’t be a groupie.

Mind you, I’m the same girl who had both the Native Sons trying to choose up on me a few years back. Shit, PC still likes my pictures.

But something about Shotta makes me feel like a nervous wreck, especially up close.

Dark caramel skin. High cheekbones. Soft, brown eyes the color of my favorite Hennessy. Full beard that probably looks so good covered in pussy juice. Long, thick hair woven in intricate braids that stop at his shoulders. And that body. All those dips and divets and muscles rippling when he gets out the pool, making all them tattoos move. He was probably born in the gym.

Jesus.

I mean, all the niggas Dal and Brina be around are fine, don’t get me wrong. But it’s something about Shotta that just makes your clothes start disintegrating. That man is fine, and can sing.

What I’d give for him to sing me happy birthday.

He walks around to the fridge and takes out the ice cream labeled with a peanut, and I can’t help but snort. Shotta’s been living here for a couple months, and he and Peanuthead are always doing little things to get on each other’s nerves. I guess it’s Peanuthead’s turn to be mad because he doesn’t play about his ice cream or wings.

“I had a craving for some mint chocolate chip. ‘Sup Mace?”

I stick more ice cream in my mouth and smile, which makes Dal shake her head. You’d think that in these past couple months of him living above the garage and me in one of the guest rooms, I’d stop acting so starstruck. But I can’t help it, I swear!

This has never happened before.

I’ve always had the upper hand. With everyone. Especially men. My mom says I was born with a big mouth and the confidence to match. So this new and persistent shyness is embarrassing.

Dal’s ass eats it up. Peanuthead eyes me like I’m a weirdo.

At least Shotta doesn’t feed into it.

“Put Patrick’s ice cream away and have some of ours. I don’t have time to be playing referee with you guys this week.”

Dal glares at him with her mama glare and he rolls his eyes but obeys her. He grabs a spoon out the drawer and bumps her shoulder to take some of our sundae.

“What’s this sundae for? New clients?”

“Nope,”

Dal gets another scoop.

“’s having a girl.”

Shotta turns to me and the smile that grows on his face… it’s taking everything in me not to become a puddle. He’s got a fucking dimple! On the apple of his right cheek.

God don’t play fair.

“Good shit, Mace. All these girls… me and my bros gone have to go to the range soon.”

I feel my eyes narrow, and cock my head to the side. But before I can say anything, Dal bumps his shoulder.

“You think Brina’s having all girls too?”

“Shit, the way everyone else is, I wouldn’t be surprised… you gone tell the dad?”

The ice cream in my mouth turns into sand but I choke it down and set my spoon on the counter.

“I conceived via immaculate conception.”

Something passes through his face before it turns carefully blank.

“C’mon, Mace, you not the Virgin Mary. You can’t hide him forever.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Dal’s shaking her head so hard it’s about to fly off her shoulders.

“I’m not hiding him. He doesn’t exist.”

“Okay, Mace.”

He stands, grabs our spoons and puts them in the sink before leaving out.

“How is he?”

I ask once the door closes. Him collapsing into a seizure on the BirchFest stage was all over the blogs for days. People speculated drug use and all, even though the official statement was extreme dehydration. Shotta’s always had that quiet confidence about him, really only animated while performing, but even now, when we see him around the house, he’s subdued. Withdrawn.

And that’s if he even comes out of his dwelling.

Dal puts her spoon down.

“To be honest… I don’t know.”