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CHAPTER TWO-MONéT

“When a man hesitates, a woman has to move."

I woke up to the smell of roasted hazelnuts and brown sugar.

O always made my coffee exactly how I liked it… Sweet, creamy, and hot enough to burn the tip of my tongue if I got too greedy. He was already gone by the time I rolled over, his side of the bed still warm, the sheets slightly wrinkled from where his body had been.

He never said goodbye in the mornings. Just left things behind—coffee, cash, kisses on my shoulder while I slept. Quiet gestures. Love in motion.

I dragged myself out of bed, wrapped my robe around me, and shuffled toward the kitchen, where the coffee waited on the warmer. A sticky note was pressed against the mug.

Left you some play money for the day and coffee. You know I got studio all week like a 9-5. – O

I smiled, but it didn’t touch my chest.

Lately, everything had been good… almost too good.

We weren’t arguing. We weren’t drifting.

But we weren’t moving either. It had been a year since we got serious.

A year of stability, peace, laughter, and sex that left me high as hell off just his voice.

But somewhere between the good mornings and goodnights, the bigger conversations started to fade.

Kids.

The thing, we said we’d talk about after we healed from the year we had.

Well… we were comfortable now, even living together, and I was still waiting.

I picked up my phone and opened the fertility app I downloaded months ago.

I was contemplating scheduling a consultation with the clinic where my eggs were stored, just to explore the options.

No commitments. Just research like I had been doing with adoption, because that was what I really wanted to do.

But after my mom told me I had eggs stored, I was thinking bloodline.

But O didn’t know about me holding on to the app.

I hadn’t told him I was even considering surrogacy, let alone following through. Because if I did… I’d have to admit something I wasn’t ready to say out loud.

That I didn’t trust his timing anymore.

That maybe… I didn’t trust him to really want a baby with me at all, with it not coming from my womb. He said he did, but sometimes, it felt like he said it to comfort me.

After doing my hair, I got dressed and met with Vanna while she was in the city, working for the day.

This pregnancy, now that the drama had died down, they were giving the world glimpse of their life.

Even though they haven’t shown the twins to the world.

They hadn’t even really told the world that they had kids.

Brunch with Savanna was at a private rooftop spot in West Hollywood with fresh roses on every table and overpriced herbal teas that tasted like cucumber and mint.

Savanna was glowing, and her bump was round and soft. She was covered in a beige two-piece knit set that made her look like the cover of somebody’s Black luxury maternity ad. She held her ginger tea close, sipping slowly.

“How’s your energy been?” I asked, watching her lean back like her spine was tired of supporting another life.

She smiled. “Better now. Twins are bad as hell, though. Every time I sit down, they are fighting. Then this one in my stomach, that’s a different subject. I am just glad I’m not sick like I was with the twins.”

I laughed. “Girl, you’re handling it like a champ.”

Her eyes softened when she looked at me. “You been good? You look good.”

I nodded. “Yeah… I’ve been alright.”

She gave me that look. The one she only gave when she wasn’t just checking in—she was reading me.

“Y’all ever revisit the conversation?” she asked gently. “About… next steps?”

I knew what she meant.

I shook my head slowly. “Not really. He hasn’t brought it up in forever.”

Savanna stirred her tea, thoughtful. “You ever think maybe he’s waiting on you?”

I frowned slightly. “Why would he wait on me? I already told him where I was at with this.”

She looked at me with that same quiet understanding she always carried when I was hurting.

“Because maybe he’s scared to say the wrong thing. You made it look easy, but your situation isn’t easy. Sometimes the people closest to us… they stay quiet because they don’t know how to speak through our pain.”

I swallowed hard, blinking down at my tea.

“You don’t have to wait forever, Monét,” she added softly. “But just make sure when you move, it’s because you want to , not because you’re afraid he won’t. Plus, you know how stubborn you are. You think everyone can read your mind.”

I didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then I nodded, more to myself than her.

“I’m not stubborn, but thanks,” I whispered.

She reached across the table, squeezing my hand gently. “You don’t owe the world softness if they didn’t help you heal—but you deserve softness where you can find it.”

I love that friend, but you are starting to sound like your husband.”

She laughed. “I’m with him all the time, I can’t help but to pick up on his voice. But speaking of him. I will have him talk to O. We gon’ get him together,” she assured me. And that there made my day.

That’s why she was my sister.

$$$$$

That night, I was home first.

I made dinner. Nothing special. Shrimp pasta, garlic bread, a glass of white wine I barely touched.

O walked in around nine. Kissed my cheek. Smelled like Creed and studio. Told me his studio session ran over, then took a shower while I wiped down the counters. After, I made my way to the living room. When I went to grab his bag from the couch, something slid out.

A folded receipt.

Western Union.

I froze.

The name hit me like a slap to the chest.

Z. Demon .

That was the baby that wasn’t his name. The little boy still had his fucking last name.

I stared at the amount. Not a little. Not a “just in case” gesture. Not something you forget to mention. A few thousand like child support. I didn’t even flip the rest of the receipts. I didn’t need to.

He was still sending money to that bitch Zakaria and her son Zoey. The woman who took three years of his life, and months of mine by extension. I put the receipts back like I never saw them, closed the bag, and went back to making a plate for a lying ass nigga.

He came out of the shower, towel around his waist, smiling easy.

“What’s up with you?” He side-eyed me, probably knowing my mood had switched.

I nodded. “Nothing, just tired and ready to eat.”

He wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my neck. “Tulum gonna be fun. I’m giving that nigga Ro the money tomorrow.”

I smiled tightly. “Yeah… real fun.”

We ate dinner quietly, with him talking about the usual everyday life, and Tulum. All I had on my mind was the receipts, Savanna in the back of my head nagging about me being stubborn, and maybe I was. I was tired of coming to the front for this nigga, it was time for him to take the lead.

When he fell asleep after dinner and fucking me good, I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling.

My heart didn’t feel broken.

It felt… activated.

He was making decisions without me. And now? So was I.

I opened my phone, pulled up the clinic contact, and hit Book Consultation.

A Tuesday at noon. One week before the Tulum trip.

Just me and the doctor.

With or without O.

Because this time?

I wasn’t waiting.

Dropping in August…