TEXAS HOLD 'EM

FOUR

Beyoncé's POV

"Y/N! Ramzi! Which one of you two left the seat up?!" I called out, making my way downstairs to the kitchen where they both, including Blue, were eating fruit bowls.

"It wasn't me," Y/n quickly defended himself as I turned my gaze over to Ramzi, who just shrugged.

"I got my own potty," Ramzi stated matter-of-factly, reminding me that he was still in the process of potty training and too short to use the regular toilet.

"So that only leaves one person," I sighed, looking at Y/n.

"I swear it wasn't me. Why not blame Blue?" Y/n suggested, attempting to deflect the blame.

"You really about to ask that?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Damn, fine. I'll close it, but it wasn't me," he grumbled, standing up to do as requested, although he knew damn well it was him.

"I can't be potty training a grown man; even Ramzi knows better," I shook my head in exasperation.

You might be wondering where Rumi and Sir are. Well, they have a different father who was getting on my damn nerves with each passing day.

It had been a week since I'd given him the divorce papers, and he was avoiding me like the plague. I had to send my lawyer over to him six times, and each time it was the same response.

"I'm thinking it over."

What is there to think over? Sign the damn papers, let me be free, and go back to dealing with whatever thots you have.

"You good?" Y/n asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, just a little stressed out about the whole divorce thing," I admitted.

"Yeah, we can tell," he replied, gesturing to the kids who nodded along. Was I really that obvious?

"I mean, you burnt the eggs in the morning while staring at them. The only thing you're actually good at–" Blue started before Y/n cut her off.

"Okay! She's already quite upset. Why don't we keep Beyzilla away," Y/n suggested, earning a whine and a slight smack from me.

"I'm sorry, just trying to lighten the mood," he laughed.

"Not working. I need to go to the studio today," I sighed.

"Album finna be–" Y/n started, but I cut him off.

"Not a word about this album to anyone, Y/n, you too, Blue," I warned.

They both nodded, and I added, "I'm not as worried about Ramzi because frankly, I don't think he even knows who I am or who his daddy is."

"But I'm getting a song, right?" Y/n persisted.

"What makes you so special?" I teased.

"You wound me, Giselle," he faked hurt.

"You've made too many appearances on my discography. I'm done with you," I joked back.

"So? Who's counting? Blue got a whole feature," Y/n pointed out.

"It's not like I had any choice. I was barely cognitive," Blue sassed.

"You got a Grammy, stop talking," Y/n retorted.

"Oh, so we're bringing up awards now? Says you, you have an Oscar," Blue shot back.

"I worked hard for that," Y/n defended.

"Boohoo, and I didn't?" Blue challenged.

"You just had to say ten or less words," Y/n countered.

"Do you know who I am?" Blue retorted.