"Baby you're just getting in your head Always in your head"
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Los Angeles, CA • February 27 Zhané Taylor.
I glanced at Xyla's baby monitor, watching her sleep. She had gone down over an hour ago, and I just couldn't get myself to sleep. My nervous system was a wreck. I paced the living room, watching Kalani through the FaceTime camera.
"Girl, would you sit down?" Kalani said. "All this pacing back and forth is making me dizzy."
I stopped mid-step, glancing at her. "I can't. Something's wrong. I feel it. He hasn't called me back. The last thing I heard was–" I couldn't even complete my sentence.
Kalani didn't say anything, but I saw the concern in her face.
"It was loud, like... like a war zone. And then nothing."
Kalani leaned closer to the screen. "Just breathe, Zhané. He–He's Romeo. That man is like a cockroach. He always makes it back alive."
I nodded, but all I could picture was what his car probably looked like, lit up by bullets, and his body slumped behind the wheel.
"Maybe he switched phones or his people told him to lay low for a minute. You know how they move. Don't go thinking of the worst-case scenario." Kalani said softly.
"I'm so scared–" I said before being cut off by sharp knocks at the front door. My whole body stiffened.
Kalani's brows furrowed. "Somebody knocking?"
I nodded and walked to the front door. My breath caught the moment I saw who was on the other side.
"Kalani." I whispered, hands shaking so bad I almost dropped my phone. "It's him."
"Girl, open the door!" She yelled.
I yanked the door open, and there he was. Romeo.
His eyes were sharp, heavy, weighed down with something that went deeper than just the adrenaline that I could imagine rushed through him. I scanned him, head to toe, not seeing a mark on his body.
"I'ma call you back, Lani." I muttered, hanging up before she said anything.
Romeo rushed inside, pulling me into his arms. Instantly, I relaxed into him.
"I'm aight." He whispered. "I'm sorry the call ended like that."
I didn't say anything, just tried not to cry into his chest. When he let go, he walked into the living room. I followed behind him, sitting next to him on the couch. He dragged a hand down his face, looking at the ceiling.
