Page 8 of It's Love I'm After

My chest pinches when Mr. Parker takes the scissors and cuts the umbilical cord, freeing the baby from his mother. This isn’t the first baby I’ve helped deliver today, so I’m unsure why I’m feeling the impact of this particular birth.

“Oh my God! You’re a mommy, Riele,”shegushes behind me, instantly increasing my body temperature.

“Mhm. You’re an auntie/godmom, Chaniya. I love that for you,” Mrs. Parker utters lowly.

Chaniya, huh?

“Excuse me. Can I have a minute of your time, half-pint?” I ask.

Containing my professionalism has been damn near impossible the longer I watched half-pint gush over the Parker’s baby boy. The slow steps I had taken to deliver Mrs. Parker’s afterbirth should have been illegal, but my focus was off like a mothafucka. Not to mention I had to visualize Grandma Jolene dropping down to suck on her neighbor Renaldo’s dick after removing her dentures, to get my dick to go down and not embarrass me.

“Half-pint?” Mrs. Parker’s voice echoes around the room, but neither the woman I’m speaking to nor I respond before I exit the room after throwing away the paper towels I used to dry my hands.

“I—”

“Hold on. I’d rather have a private conversation.” I stop her from speaking before heading toward the family waiting area that’s usually empty on this floor.

Our exchange, while unorthodox, can’t be prevented, because the magnetic pull I’m experiencing with this woman won’t let me walk away from her again empty-handed. Entering the waiting room a few minutes later, I close the door after she crosses the threshold. Desperate to ignore the urge to touch her, I quickly put my hands in my pocket.

“Wh-what?—”

“Breathe, half-pint. You’re not in any danger. I just wanted to ask you to accompany me to my sister’s wedding.” My chest is beating like a drum at an HBCU band competition, and my eyes peer intently at her while holding my breath in wait.

Shit! Did I really just ask this woman to go to Essence’s wedding with me?

A smirk slides into place when half-pint’s eyes balloon, and her mouth opens then closes like a pucker fish.

“Um—what?”

“I want you to be my plus one for my sister’s wedding weekend that’ll include the ceremony.”

“We-uh-you don’t know me.” A wide grin slides into place upon seeing the cute pout on her lips.

Stepping closer yet leaving an inch of space between us, I extend my hand while giving her my best, irresistible smile. “Germayne Malone.”

My heart stalls when a puff of air escapes half-pint’s mouth, hitting my face at the same time as bursts of light sparkle within her eyes, leaving me momentarily unable to move.

Fuck! She’s sexy as hell.

“Ch-Chaniya O’Neal,” she replies breathlessly.

“I have never heard a more fitting name than yours,” I say, sounding lame without game.

What the fuck are you saying, nigga? How did your dumb ass go from a real nigga to a lame nigga after coming to this woman’s rescue not long ago? You are about to lose your player card over that weak ass line. Damn shame, nigga.

Chaniya laughs while covering her mouth with her hand, making my internal rants valid and timely.

“Do other women find that flattering?” Chaniya asks, smirking.

“Hell nah. Please forgive me. You’re little ass got me out here nervous and fumbling like a juvenile.”

“You’re funny. I’m not sure that accepting your offer is appropriate, though. Fumbling or not, we’re still strangers.”

“How about we go to the cafeteria to get some coffee or whatever beverage you would like? That way, we can remove our stranger status.”

Now your lame ass is begging like a simp. You’re going out sad.

“Hold up. You did what?” Jarrod asks, laughing hysterically.

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