“She’s scared, Messiah. She doesn’t know you. You have to take something like this slowly,” Bleu argued. “You’re breaking their routine. They’re in an unfamiliar place. You don’t have their clothes or pull-ups. Your house smells different, looks different. You’re new to them. Of course she’s crying.” Bleu was trying to get him to calm down. He was just as traumatized as the twins. Bleu’s mind was blown. The calmest person in the room was two-year-old Messari, who sat on the floor looking back and forth between the adults.

“I can’t do this shit, B. What am I supposed to do with this?” He motioned to the twins with open palms and shrugged. “How I’m supposed to love shorty after she pulled some shit like this?” Messiah was forlorn, and Bleu looked at him sympathetically.

“Shhh,” she whispered in Yara’s ear, trying to console her. Nothing was working, and Bleu sighed. “It’s okay, sweet girl,” Bleu whispered as she bounced Yara. She could tell the little girl was tired. Yara kept rubbing her eyes as she fussed. She was fighting sleep because she was uncomfortable with this sudden change.

“I don’t know, Messiah,” she answered. “You and Morgan exchange a lot of hurt back and forth. That’s not what these babies require. Somehow the two of you have to get all that pain out of the way. They’ll feel it.” Bleu paused to take it all in. “Wow. She gave you two babies.” Bleu couldn’t help the tear that slid down her face. She blew out a breath. “How did I miss this? How did we all miss this?” Bleu’s mind went to the child she had lost. Messiah’s son. He would have been close in age to his twins, and the thought of that was breaking her down.

Messiah bent down to pick up Messari.

“Are you mine?” Messari asked.

Messiah’s glower matched Messari’s. They were both skeptical of each other. Matching temperaments.

“Yeah, man. I’m yours, kid. And you’re mine. Nobody’s going to get it mixed up ever again. Daddy promise you that.”

“He’s not answering!” Morgan cried. “Ethic, please call him. Please.” She didn’t even know where her panic was coming from. She didn’t think Messiah would hurt the twins necessarily, but she hated that he was so irrational, so enraged. She had seen him that way before, and she didn’t want her babies around him when he was in that state of mind. She just wanted them home. She wanted them with her, and she was becoming undone because she knew Messiah didn’t know the first thing about taking care of children.

“You got to let him calm down and wrap his mind around this, Mo. He just found out something that changes everything for him. Give him time to process it. You can’t back him into a corner just because you need to be pacified,” Ethic said. Morgan sat with her legs crossed in the middle of the king-size bed as Alani sat beside her, rubbing her hair gently as Morgan rested her head on Alani’s shoulder. It was as if she were a little girl, sitting in the middle of her parents’ bed because the boogeyman had scared her. In a way, he had. Messiah had blown up so quickly. He was like a ticking time bomb, and Morgan never knew when he would detonate.