I dodged the brick wall blocking my path, saying a quick prayer that he hadn’t noticed the one thing that haunted me over the past four months every time I looked at my sweet girl’s face.
One hazel and one dark brown. The same eyes that belonged to Omiri Hayes.
Avi’s father…
“Hold up…” He grabbed my arm and I instinctively jerked away but his fingers locked in tight. “I do know you.”
“No, you don’t. Please let me go.”
“Nah, I know you. How old is she?”
Oh shit…
“Ma’am, is everything okay?”
A security guard appeared at the end of the aisle with his eyes darting back and forth between me and Omiri. Thankfully he had enough sense to release me, but that intense stare remained on Avi. He hadn’t moved an inch because he was focused on her.
“Yes, everything is fine, misunderstanding,” I muttered and headed straight to the counter. The guy working the counter rang me up between laughing at something on his phone. I caught sight of the screen and noticed he was on social media watching a video. He barely even acknowledged me, only rattled off the total and pointed to the card reader.
I jerked my wristlet from the pocket of my hoodie and slid my card out, fumbling to get it free. After my transaction was complete, I grabbed a bag and shoved both boxes in when the clerk mumbled thank you and dropped back on the stool in front of the register.
Omiri was still watching me. I could feel the heat of his stare when I pushed through the door and I didn’t relax until I had Avi strapped into her car seat and was pulling out of the parking lot. This could not be happening.
I drove home carefully, checking my rearview mirror to make sure he hadn’t decided he was curious enough to follow me. Thankfully the streets were just as empty now as they had been when I left my house. When Avi and I were safely inside, I breathed a sigh of relief and headed to my room where I tossed the bag on the bed and held my little muffin to my chest, kissing her head.
“Oh Avi, I think Mommy just royally fucked up.”
For nine months of pregnancy and the past four months of Avi’s life, I had been so careful. Nothing in my life connected me to Omiri and I made sure not to broadcast the baby we shared. No pregnancy photos online, no pictures of Avi. Not one social media post existed providing proof that my life had drastically changed.
I skipped having a baby shower because I couldn’t risk someone else highlighting the moment, and as far as anyone knew, my baby girl was the result of a short hookup. I expressed that the father didn’t want her and I did, so he wasn’t in her life. Once that explanation was out there, no one asked questions and that was fine by me.
In a sense, it was partially true. She was the result of a short hookup. One night with a guy I assumed was too drunk to remember anything about me. I, on the other hand, had every detail committed to memory.
Honestly, it was hard not to remember because Omiri Hayes was hard to forget. He had thick, jet black hair that extended about an inch from his scalp in tight coils shadow faded on the sides.A thick, wide nose spread over full lips surrounded by the same jet black hue that sprouted from his head. But whereas his hair was coarse, Omiri’s beard was soft and luscious. Then there were those damn eyes I couldn’t erase from my mind because my baby had them too.
I sighed in frustration with memories that didn’t matter because that wasn’t my life. He wasn’t and could never be my life. Omiri was a disaster I didn’t want around Avi and even if he never personally told me to my face, he told the world his thoughts about having a family.
“Omiri, are the rumors true? Sia is pregnant and everyone says you’re the father.”
“I fucked her once, in the bathroom at a club. I came down her throat, not in her pussy. That kid isn’t mine. Even if it was, I would write her a check. I don’t want kids.”
“So you’re saying if Sia truly is pregnant you wouldn’t be in the child’s life?”
“I’m saying that isn’t my fucking kid, and if it was, she would get exactly what she wanted from me, a few commas in her bank account to make that shit go away.”
That interview was why Omiri didn’t know about Avi. It went viral the day I’d gotten a positive pregnancy test and I accepted this as the universe’s way of telling me I was doing this on my own. There was no way in hell I would subject either of us to that type of scrutiny. The reminder of the man Omiri was sank into my chest and helped me relax. Even if he truly did remember me and assumed Avi was his, there was no way he would do anything about it. He didn’t want kids and I refused to be a headline.
No woman in their right mind would be naive enough to mistake what a man like Omiri would think if she suddenly appeared months after a Super Bowl win claiming to be the mother of his child. Sia was proof.
Gold digger.
Groupie.
Opportunist and liar.
I didn’t want Avi to be defined by a decision I made or who her father was. She and I would have a normal, quiet life, away from the spotlight. Over the past year I’d worked with enough athletes and had witnessed firsthand how women who got involved with them were laced in the media and how fans attacked them when their beloved superstars were challenged by women who had every right to demand their support both physically and financially. The players were granted a pass and the women were condemned.
Yeah no, miss me with that bullshit. I could do this on my own, I was doing this on my own. It wasn’t perfect but Avi and I were good.
