Page 48 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

“I know you are.” He chuckled. “That’s what yo’ ass get for thinking you could one-up Big Daddy.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I turned that ass every way but loose.”

“Boy, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And why not?” He shrugged, looking entirely too proud of himself. “I’m that nigga.”

“I guess,” I muttered, sucking my teeth.

“You ain’t gotta guess. You know.”

I couldn’t even stop myself from smiling. This man was a mess. Still grinning, he fixed my plate before setting it in front of me along with a steaming mug of coffee.

I bowed my head, whispered my grace, then picked up my fork. The first bite of those blueberry waffles damn near made me close my eyes.

“Mmm…”

“I knew you were gonna like these,” Kyrie said with a cocky grin.

I pointed my fork at him.

“Baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get me some orange juice instead of this coffee?”

He frowned at the nug before looking back at me.

“What? You don’t want any coffee?”

I shook my head a little too fast, and almost instantly, that queasy feeling crept back into my stomach.

“Nawl.” I pressed my lips together, swallowing hard. “I don’t think this baby likes coffee.”

“Oh, damn.”

He cocked his head and then laughed.

“So, you finna be a mean ass pregnant woman?”

I looked at him.

“No.”

“You sure? ’Cause if coffee not in the picture…” he whistled low. “I’ma have to start praying before I wake yo’ ass up.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You are so dramatic.”

“Nawl,” he grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and set it in front of me before leaning down to kiss the top of my forehead. “I’m just trying to survive these next nine months.”

The moment those words left his mouth, I rolled my eyes and sucked my teeth. This man was really trying to paint me out to be some damn ogre, and I wasn’t.

“Kyrie, you are doing too much.”