The Choices We Make

Chapter 3

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Yanna

“I swear, I didn’t plan that!” Rhea reassured her for the nth time since she picked up the call. “Before we left, Kyle just told me his friend is staying in his unit for a week. I didn’t know it was DJ, okay?”

“Bullshit. I’m not buying that, Ri.” Yanna knew her best friend like the back of her hand. She and Kyle played a hand for her and DJ to meet countless times until they started going out. The whole thing reeked of their names on it.

“Watch the language, Yanna. The baby can hear it,” Rhea berated her. Yanna breathed through her nose to calm herself down. “If it’s any consolation, neither of us told him about the baby.”

“Like I could still keep that from him when I look like I’m hiding a watermelon under my clothes,” she muttered. In hopes of flushing out the heat she felt upon seeing DJ and how he seemed to fill his clothes nicely reminding her of their time spent in heat, she had quickly changed into something more comfortable when she quickly left Kyle’s unit back to hers with the delivery boy in tow. 

“Well, maybe it’s time for you to come clean and tell him about it.”

“See. This is why I know you had a hand on this. You’ve been nagging me to tell him about the baby in forever.”

“For the nth time. DJ. Needs. To. know.” Rhea stressed each word for effect leaving Yanna speechless. “I told you, I don’t want my grandson growing up not knowing his father, okay?” she insisted and when Yanna remained silent, she went on. “If this didn’t happen, do you really think you’d have the guts to tell him? You're almost due and you had not even tried. When are you planning to reach out? When the baby cones of age?" she scoffed. "Stop running away from this. You can be mad at me and Kyle all you want but we’re just concerned for the baby’s sake.”

“So you finally admit that you planned all this.”

“No. Because Kyle did it, not me. And I’m not even sorry that he partly meddled because frankly speaking, it's been a long time coming. I’ll make it up to you when we get home, okay? I’ll bring home lots of Old Town Coffee.”

“I can’t drink coffee, in case you forgot. And I plan to breastfeed, so anything I drink should have moringa in it to boost milk production.”

“Oh-kay, noted. I’ll look for some here.” There was a pregnant pause before Rhea spoke again. “Relax, Yanna. Or at least try to. I’m not saying that you get back with him. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. But don’t take away DJ’s right to know about his son.”

“Okay,” Yanna exhaled in resignation. “Yeah. Maybe I should go back to Kyle’s unit and come clean.” As if on cue, Yanna heard soft, tentative knocks on her door. As a response, the child in her womb stirred. “Oh, god. He’s here.”

“The baby?!” Rhea gasped. “The baby’s about to come out?!”

“No, DJ. I think.” She quietly padded to the door so she could look through the peephole and her instincts was spot on. “Oh, god.” Rhea cheered her on one last time before they both hung up. And with a deep breath followed by a gentle kick of the baby in her womb as if cheering her on, she turned the knob and pulled the door open. “Hi,” she breathed.

“Hi,” DJ greeted back. His hair was a mess as if he had run his hand through it numerous times. Her fingers itched to run them through his locks that were longer now, or against his jaw with a dusting of stubble. 

“Would you like to come in?” she finally asked and saw his shoulders sag in relief at her invitation.

“I-I’d love that.” 

Yanna opened the door wider and motioned for him to follow. His eyes never left her face as she led him to the couch where he tentatively sat. He was clad in a white Henley shirt and a pair of khaki shorts and slippers--his staple get up. It wasn’t imagination or a product of her longing that he appeared more fit, muscles peeking from under the sleeves. She felt relieved that the eight months they were apart benefitted him well. Physically.

She mirrored his position on a winged sofa across him. When she leaned back, his eyes finally rested on her bulging midsection.

“You’re pregnant.”

It wasn’t a question. Not even an accusation. It was a mere statement of an observation.

DJ had always been transparent and Yanna could easily read his thoughts before he verbalized them. But for the first time, she waited. She waited when his eyes scanned her hands resting calmly on her belly, no doubt, looking for a wedding band, looking for answers to the myriad of questions he had. It lingered there for a few minutes--his eyes on her hand and she tried to remain still while he figured things out. 

And then his gaze flipped to hers. There was hurt, and wonder, and hope--warring emotions apparent at how he stared at her, practically begging her to confirm or deny the worst of his thoughts.

Yanna gave him a small, uncertain smile at the same time the baby moved. “It’s yours, DJ. The baby is yours.”