Page 23 of Captivated By Danger

When Dymani started getting fussy, Quinci took her out of my arms to take her in the house to get changed with Donovan on her heels.

Once they were inside, Dymon said, “You for real about Quinci’s homegirl?”

“Am I ever not? What’s the story? I know Quinci’s talking ass told you.”

He chuckled. “You know my wife. Apparently, her cousin moved in to help her with her postpartum and stuff and was helping herself on her husband’s dick. Greysen divorced her husband and he’s now marrying the cousin, and whatever bullshit that comes with that.”

“She has a child?”

I hadn’t dealt with a mother before, but I wasn’t above adding that to my sexual resume.

“Nah. She passed away.”

“Ah. Got it.”

“So, you can see why Quinci is saying chill. You might have a Rachel times two on your hands.”

“I strongly…” my phone vibrated, and it was another message from Greysen.

305-555-7812:afjkkel

305-555-7812:omg. I am so sorry. Didn’t mean to text that.

“I know you’re not going to listen to me, but I did my part because Quinci already knew what you were up to when you walked her home. Yo dumb ass came back talking about you didn’t want her walking mad because of crime or something your crazy ass said. Quinci is Citrus Grove through and through. You know she know ain’t shit going on in these streets.”

We both laughed. I’d take it to my grave that I told her Quinci wanted me to walk her home.

Picking up my phone, I texted Greysen back.

Me:I’m not a texter. Will call you in a few.

305-555-7812:Okay.

“You sure you ain’t trying to get married?” Dymon asked me while I was scrolling through my phone.

Raising my eyebrow, I smirked, “What? No. My mind ain’t changed on that.”

“Look at me,” my brother said.

I put my phone down and looked at him.

“No.Lookat me.”

“Nigga. My eyes are staring directly into your eyes. What the fuck are you talking about, look at you?”

“I am thirty-one. Supposed to be in the prime of my pimping, but look at me now, simping. Married to the love of my life with the most beautiful daughter. I wake up in sweats if I have a dream about us fighting, let alone her leaving me. The tightness in my chest when another man is gawking her down. She just had my daughter not even two months ago and when she posted that post-partum pic on Instagram, I bout lost my damn mind. Niggas was in the comments heavy, commenting on what pregnancy did to her body. Shit! I know. I been having to look, but don’t touch for weeks. That’s killing me. All of that behind a country ass, Citrus Grove ass woman. Now, again, look at me. Ask yourself if you want to be me. You… as tough as you are, do you want to be a simp?”

I laughed from a very healthy place. My brother was always talking about how Quinci got him in a chokehold.

“So, in other words, you down bad?”

“Terribly, but it’s where I want to be. It’s a good place.”

“It better be a good place, Mr. Dymon, if you know what’s good for you,” Quinci said, walking out the door with my niece strapped to her chest. “Y’all done with these?”

“Yes.”

“You need me to put her down?” Dymon asked her.

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