My daughter has a “love child” and lives with me rent-free. She asked me to babysit so she could go to a “job interview.” I agreed, took my 3 y.o. grandson to the mall to kill time and who do I see?
Her! All dolled up, cozying up to a guy. So I left the kid alone at——not really.
I couldn’t. I’m not that kind of person. But let me tell you, in that moment, I thought about it.
My stomach twisted so hard I felt like I might puke. Her name is Nariah. Twenty-four, bright, beautiful, but stubborn like you wouldn’t believe.
She got pregnant her last year of college, dropped out, and moved back home with her son, Mateo. The dad? Long gone.
Disappeared like a puff of smoke once he found out she was keeping the baby. I tried to be supportive. I was disappointed, sure, but I thought: life happens.
We pick up and keep going. I helped her with diapers, formula, late-night feeds, everything. I told her, “You get on your feet, I got your back.” That was three years ago.
So when she asked me to watch Mateo for a job interview at some boutique downtown, I said yes. I even told her to take her time, that I’d take Mateo to the food court and maybe let him ride the little train that circles the mall. But then I saw her.
Red lipstick, heels she hadn’t worn since before the baby, and a bodycon dress I didn’t even know she owned anymore. Sitting across from some guy at that swanky tapas place by the fountain. Laughing.
Leaning in like she wanted to be kissed. My jaw clenched. I pulled Mateo closer in his stroller and backed up behind a planter.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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