Free Darius Jones by Mary B. Morrison Page A

“Daddy!” he said, reaching for me. I held my son. “Who’s that?” he asked, looking at the bandages around my wife’s face.
    â€œThat’s Fancy, my man.” Handing my son back to my mom, I said, “Get him outta here, please.”
    â€œOf, course. Anything for you, hon—baby,” she said, changing her word. My mom hugged me, told me, “I love you,” and left.
    I pressed my fingers deep into my eye sockets. Something so soft, tears, still managed to escape. My wife was gentle and strong like that. She held it down when I was a boy trying to be the man. When I didn’t understand what it meant to be a man. I’m so glad I didn’t take my wife for granted. My tears were partially out of regret. I wished I had given her the attention she’d deserved instead of texting.
    I kissed her bandage, then whispered, “Baby, hang in there. I need you.”

CHAPTER 17
Jada
    I was trying not to come undone. Two events changed my life.
    I knew we shouldn’t have gone to that premiere. If we had stayed in Atlanta, if we had gone to dinner with Darius and Fancy, maybe Fancy wouldn’t be hospitalized, and Grant and I would’ve been happy not knowing Honey was pregnant.
    I dialed Bambi’s number. She never did answer my question yesterday when I asked where she was.
    â€œHi, Jada. How’s Fancy?” Bambi asked.
    â€œToo soon to tell,” I said.
    â€œI’m here for you. What do you want me to do?”
    That was why I’d hired her. Bambi was eager to complete any task. She’d made a drastic change from when I’d seen her at Darius’s high school graduation. I still had to introduce her to Darius. Maybe Bambi could stay at my house here in Los Angeles and watch DJ while I went to the hospital.
    â€œCome by my house,” I said, giving her my address in the Valley. “I need you to pick up my key card, go to Grant’s hotel room, get my things, and drop them off here. And I might need you to stay here with DJ for a few hours while I go check on Fancy.”
    â€œI’m on my way, but I should let you know I’ve never watched any kids. I’m sure I can manage though.”
    I hadn’t thought about Bambi not having any siblings or kids. DJ was a good kid but I shouldn’t have expected Bambi to watch him on a regular basis the way I’d expected Grant to.
    Secretly Grant had hoped he’d see Honey yesterday. Whether or not he knew she was pregnant was irrelevant. My heart was with Darius, my prayers with Fancy. Hadn’t heard from Grant since last night. Felt foolish sitting in that waiting room for hours. I had to find a non-confrontational way to make Grant have a paternity test.
    He refused to ask Honey to let me watch the birth. He insisted on staying at the hospital in the room with Honey. Guess he was standing in the viewing window right this minute basking in the moment of believing he was a father.
    Having my grandson was a delightful detour to obsessing full-time over Grant’s inconsideration. I set a poolside table for two. While my chef prepared breakfast, I decorated the round glass top with black and blue Batman placemats, gold silverware, Batman plates, bowls, and eight-ounce glasses.
    DJ ran out of the house onto the patio. “Can I swim a little while, Grandma, till the food is ready?”
    â€œNo, baby. Not with your bandages on.”
    â€œPlease, Grandma? Please?”
    I exhaled. “Okay. Just a few minutes. And right after breakfast I’ll have to clean you up and change your bandages.” Somebody should have fun. I sat close to my pool, in case I had to dive in. Next to being a mom, being a grandmother was my greatest joy. DJ was adorable. He ran toward the deep end, jumped off the side, bent his knees, then made a big splash.
    I missed LA. If things didn’t work out with Grant, I was staying in LA and selling my house in Atlanta. Darius was