Page 81 of Certified To Handle You 2

“You hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

I leaned over and kissed her forehead, then stood from the bed with Isley still in my arms.

“Wash ya face and calm down. Don’t go downstairs until I come back up here and tell you to.”

She nodded again, and this time I could tell she understood I wasn’t playin’.

I left her room and headed down the hallway toward mine while my mind stayed on Pluto. Whatever had been happenin’ inside my wife had finally spilled over on everybody else, and I knew ignorin’ it was only gon’ make shit worse.

Before I reached my room, I pulled my phone out and called ‘Lo. He answered after a few rings with music playin’ somewhere behind him.

“You dressed yet?” he asked.

“Nah. I ain’t gon’ make it tonight.”

“What happened?”

“I got some shit goin’ on at the crib I need to handle.”

He went quiet for a second, then his tone changed. “Everybody good?”

“They gon’ be,” I told him. “I’ma hit you tomorrow.”

“A’ight. Handle that.”

I ended the call and looked down at Isley while she stared back at me with her lil’ eyes wide open. She had finally stopped cryin’, but I could still feel the tension from downstairs runnin’ through the whole house.

I had money sittin’ by the front door, a club I was supposed to be at, and my niggas waitin’ on me to make moves, but none of that shit mattered right now. My wife was fallin’ apart in front of me, my daughter was upstairs wishin’ Pluto never adopted her, and my newborn had just cried herself tired ‘cause the two people closest to me couldn’t stop hurtin’ each other long enough to see what they was doin’ to everybody around them.

If I ain’t get Pluto together, this whole mansion was gon’ fall apart from the inside, and I wasn’t lettin’ that happen.

I kissed Isley’s forehead, tucked her closer against my chest, and headed toward my bedroom ‘cause whatever Pluto had been tryna hold in, I was about to make her give that shit to me.

When I got to the room door, I looked down at Isley and decided to call one of the nannies real quick.

My baby had finally settled against my chest, and the last thing I wanted was to carry her in another room where she might hear me and Pluto goin’ back and forth. Whatever was about to happen between me and my wife needed to happen without no kids around, ‘cause too much of our shit had already spilled over on them tonight.

I pulled my phone out and called downstairs. One of the night nannies answered, and I told her to meet me near the elevator. She came up a couple minutes later with a blanket folded across her arm, and I handed Isley over after kissin’ her forehead.

“Keep her downstairs with you for a while. If she start actin’ like somethin’ wrong or won’t calm down, call me.”

“I will,” she assured me before walkin’ away with my daughter.

I stood here until they disappeared into the elevator, then turned back toward my bedroom. I ain’t know what Pluto was gon’ give me when I walked in there, but I was done lettin’ her hide behind that quiet shit. She had been walkin’ around this house carryin’ somethin’ too heavy for her, and instead of givin’ it to me, she had been lettin’ it tear her apart piece by piece.

When I opened the room door, Pluto was sittin’ on the edge of the bed with her back halfway turned toward me. She still had on my shirt and them shorts, but her shoulders was slumped and both hands was clasped between her thighs. The attitude was still all over her, but under it, she looked tired enough to fall apart if somebody touched her the wrong way.

I closed the door behind me and stood here lookin’ at her for a second. She ain’t turn around or ask where Isley was. She just kept starin’ at the floor like I wasn’t even in the room.

I took my phone and keys out my pockets, sat ‘em on the bar and turned back toward her. The longer she sat there actin’ like she ain’t have nothin’ to say, the more irritated I got. It wasn’t ‘cause I wanted to argue, but ‘cause I was tired of watchin’ my wife drown while she kept tellin’ me she knew how to swim.

“Pluto, I’m sick of this shit,” I told her, keepin’ my voice low even though every word came out serious. “I ain’t finna keep walkin’ around this house guessin’ what the fuck wrong with you while you take that shit out on everybody else.”

Her face turned toward me then, and the look she gave me was cold. “I ain’t ask you to guess.”