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"I'm so tired." I said as I crawled into the bed with Devale.
He closed the book he was reading and looked at me. I knew there was something wrong just by how quiet he was. I also knew that it was probably about our eldest child.
"What Devale?" I ask still sitting up.
"Is she fucking?" He asked me.
"I don't know!" I said shaking my head.
"Yes you do." He responded.
"No the hell I don't. I would tell you if I knew anything." I told him.
He looked at me with low eyes.
"I would. I swear!" I said putting my hands up in the air.
Devale knew o was lying. Not about our daughter having sex but about me telling him if I knew anything. The mother daughter relationship is sacred. If Day Day, didn't want me to tell her father something until she was ready, I would honor that.
A lot of moms don't have good relationships with their daughters. But me and mines are gonna be close until the day we separated. Granted, she can be a little bitch sometimes but she's still my daughter.
"Devale I think she just likes him and wants to spend time with him." I tell my husband.
She scoffed in disbelief.
" I was all up under you when we were talking." I remind him.
"Yes we were also fucking though." He said making me shake my head. "And we were college students-"
"We were eighteen and nineteen. A year from Day Day." I tell him. "Plus, I thought you were okay knowing this day would come sooner or later. You taught her everything about sex there is to know. How to protect herself, what intimacy is— What's the problem?" I ask crossing my arms.
"I just don't want her to grow up. She's my baby girl." Devale said with a slight pout on his face.
I couldn't help but to laugh at his expression.
"But Devale she's not a little girl. She's a young woman with sexual desires. Sooner or later she's going to fall in love and she's gonna have sex. That's just how it happens." I tell him.
"But does it have to be with him?" Devale asked through gritted teeth.
I rolled my eyes and laid down, pulling the cover over my body.
"Devin is a nice kid. He's just from the streets. He can't help where he was raised." I tell Devale.
"He be coming up in here sagging, smelling like weed-"
"Oh so we're judging now?" I ask side eyeing him.
"I'm not judging him-"
"Sounds like you are." I argued back. "And your daughter be smoking too! How many times have we gotten on her about strolling in the house smelling like straight gas?" I remind him.
