She kissed Nymeer’s chubby cheek before trying to take him from my arms, and I resisted.
“Let me see him,” she demanded.
“You didn’t even speak to me and think you can just take him from my arms.”
“My bad. That was rude as hell. Hey, Knox.”
She reached for Nymeer again, and I resisted again. She looked at me with a frown.
“Where’s my kiss?” I asked with a smirk.
“If you don’t give me my nephew!”
This time, I let her take him from my arms. I kept my eyes on her as she smothered him with love and wondered what she would be like as the mother of my children. She noticed me staring, and I didn’t look away.
“Why are you staring at me with that faraway look?”
“Just wondering what you’d look like holding our child.”
I thought my comment would piss her off, but instead, I could visibly see her soften. She looked back and forth between Nymeer and me. I thought she’d say something slick, but she walked away without a rebuttal. Nyomi approached her, holding Kilan as she leaned in to kiss Nymeer’s cheek.
“You Titi’s baby too, Kilan, but y’all are too big for Titi to hold at the same time,” Skye said, kissing Kilan’s cheek.
“Baby, can you get the bags from the truck?” Nyomi asked Kilo.
“Yeah. Come on, Knox,” Kilo said.
“She said baby, not Knox.”
“Nigga, if you don’t bring your ass and help me get this shit.”
Kilo was two years older than me, and even at forty-one and thirty-nine, he still tried to use that big brother shit to get me to do things. I was about a half-inch taller than him and had about five pounds on him. It had been that way since college, so it had been a long time since he could bully me into anything.
“You ain’t gon’ do shit if I don’t help, but you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”
We brought the bags inside and placed them all on the kitchen counter. When we were done, Nyomi handed Kilan to Kilo and went to the kitchen to unpack the groceries.
“I bought some stuff for you to put on the grill,” she said as she moved around the kitchen.
“Stuff like what?” Kilo asked.
“Chicken breast, salmon, burgers, and hot dogs. My parents mentioned stopping by to see the boys, and who knows how many of your players will end up here with Nyeem later.”
“We ain’t responsible for feeding those lil niggas,” Kilo said.
“They always seem to show up around dinner time on the weekends, and I keep telling you it’s rude not to offer them food. Skye and I will make the sides.”
Kilo looked at me, shaking his head, and I shrugged in response. He knew not to argue with her, so he conceded. About thirty minutes later, Nyomi and Skye had cleaned all the meat, and Kilo and I were outside on the patio.
I entertained the boys while he prepared to grill, and from where I was positioned, I could see directly through the patiodoors into the kitchen. Every time Skye walked by, my stomach fluttered. It pissed me off because I was a 230-pound, six-foot-three, thirty-nine-year-old man whose stomach had no damn business fluttering.
“You gon’ stare a damn hole into the glass if you keep it up,” Kilo said with a laugh.
“I don’t know what kinda hold she has on me, but you were right earlier. We want different things, and I need to let that dream go.”
Later that evening, Nyomi’s parents had left, Nyeem was out with his teammates, and the twins were down for the night. We were sitting in the backyard around the firepit, enjoying the night air.
We’d conversed about several topics, but it had grown quiet. Kilo and I sipped on a glass of Hennessy and Coke, while the ladies enjoyed a glass of white wine.