On the 12th day of Christmas My Baby Daddy Gave to Me: 8 Hairline Excuses

TASHA:

I was glowing. But not from love. From rage.

One minute I’m pregnant, single, and dodging my mama’s prayers. The next? My scandalous ass ex is on my doorstep holding a dead-ass plant like that makes up for ghosting me when I told him I was keeping the baby.

He said he came back to do right. To be a father. To fix what he broke.

But all I see is a fine-ass man with a tragic hairline and a stick that still makes my knees remember.

I should’ve slammed the door. Instead, I let him in. And now my thighs are in trouble. Again.



MARCUS:

I fucked up.

I left. I ran. I let fear win. And still, nothing compares to the sound of her calling me every name but my own while she rode me like revenge.

Tasha’s got fire in her belly and my baby in her womb.

Now I’m back with my hat in one hand and a stroller in the other. I don’t care if her mama hates me or if she roasts my hairline in front of company. I’m not leaving again.

I don’t want to be just her baby daddy.

I want it all. Her lips. Her trust. That second chance she swears I don’t deserve.

This Christmas, I’m giving her everything.

Even if she throws it back in my face first.