A/N: I keep forgetting to do a shout out to the fans but here it is. Thank you so much everyone, I'm glad you're enjoying this story as much as I am. There are many surprises and plot twists up ahead so a warning now before you have a million heart attacks. Enjoy this chapter of C&L!

"Mr. Freeman?" I looked up from the new bill proposals to my personal assistant, Tasha.

"Yes Tasha?"

"There's a woman on the line for you by the name of Yani, she wanted to know if she could speak to you?" I grumbled. She just would not give it a rest.

"Did she tell you what she wanted?" Tasha's lips pursed. That was her annoyed look. Many times Tasha had given me that look when I worked late or made her job difficult with my "incisive need for perfection" but I paid her well enough so she didn't complain too much. I could tell by her face that Yani had irritated her; Tasha didn't suffer fools lightly, that was probably the reason we got along so well. Tasha was a bright girl with aspirations of becoming a lawyer. Often times she asked me for advice on the best schools to go to. I of course recommended the historically black colleges; specifically Spelman had an exceptional political science program. I graduated from Howard University with a B.A. and M.A in political science and African American studies, then went on to earn a law degree from Yale.

"She said she had something she thought you should know, about Mrs. Freeman." My eyes narrowed. What could Yani know about Jazmine that I didn't know?

"That woman is a stalker—"

"Isn't she that woman who asked you to speak to her class a few years back?"

"Yes she is, Tasha."

"Oh." I glanced back up to her and dissected the tone in her voice. She had something to say, might as well get her judgment over with.

"Say it."

"I was just wondering if you and Mrs. Freeman were on bad terms."

"Why?" My gruff answer only served to widen the smirk on her face. Tasha was one of the only people allowed to nettle me about my marriage, seeing as she had to know the most important details about us to help coordinate events.

"Because you are grumpy. You've had everyone in the office afraid to approach you for months now."

"Tasha, how much do I pay you?" My question threw her off balance. She gave me a puzzled look then began to think about her salary.

"51 g's why?"

"I'm trying to figure out how much of that I spend on you getting in my business so I can subtract it."

"Okay, fine I won't ask about your love life, good grief Mr. Freeman. I'm just trying to help you out. True chemistry is something that cannot be faked, and if Thomas or anyone from the Republican camp gets word of trouble in paradise, they will let the media run with it." She nodded to me and walked out of my office. I leaned back in my chair and thought about her message. Jazmine and I were very careful on how we portrayed ourselves in public and to the media. It was their job to pay attention to every small detail of Jazmine and my body language. If Tasha could tell something was up, then the specialists in the media would see it too.

I tried to focus back on the bills but my mind kept wandering. My eyes caught on the gold frames on the corner of my desk. One was a picture of Jazmine and I cutting the cake at our wedding, with Riley, Cindy, and Granddad standing proudly behind us. That was the second best day of my life; the first being the day X was born. The other picture was Jazmine and my official wedding photo; the last was of Jazmine, X, and I at X's first day of daycare when he was 3. Jazmine had been a nervous wreck, worrying over if he would cry or if he would make friends. Though I waited until I was in the car to acknowledge the separation anxiety, Jazmine's didn't subside until we picked him up at 1p.m. X had made many friends and I don't believe he missed us that much after he had made his first friend. Jazmine was thrilled to see that he had a much easier time than she had leaving her parents for the first time.

Looking at the pictures of my desk reminded me of the day I had first started working in this office as a representative 8 years ago.

It felt good to have my own office. For me the high of getting elected to the Maryland House of Delegates had worn off and I was ready to get to work, but Jazmine wanted me to celebrate a little longer after taking the oath. She took the day off from her "evil terrible job" as a museum art curator/docent to look at the office and to use her "expert" taste to decorate the space.

It was amusing listening to Jazmine rant about how much she disliked her job. Art history was her least favorite area of art, and she spent every day talking about the "boring movements of old dead people". Jazmine may not have liked what she did but she was good at it. Even before she became a curator, Jazmine would give me tours around they museums we visited on dates and she was a very interesting guide. She didn't see in herself what those she guided saw. Jazmine's eyes would light up when she spoke on a piece or a movement; her passion and storytelling ability made you want to keep listening even if you didn't have a particular love for art. She knew millions of facts about the subject that inspired the artist, the artist or time period, or things about the medium that made it a fascinating adventure.

Jazmine's dislike of her job extended to her boss. According to her her boss was a moron who didn't respect her obvious talent; isn't everyone's boss a moron who doesn't recognize their worth. She also disliked the obvious disinterest with culture that plagued America. That I agreed with her on. America had become so obsessed with other things that the arts and humanities suffered. Jazmine was an advocate of the arts, especially in the school system, because she believed the arts helped people connect with the Earth and culture around them, while allowing them unstructured freedoms.

"Oh I see the potential." I smirked at my wife. She had a quick eye for design but she could often let her imagination run too wild for my tastes. Decorating our house had damn near been a war zone.

"Don't go too crazy Jazmine; I still have to work here."

"I'm not going to go crazy, I'm just going to liven the place up a bit, make it more human." She spun around the room and opened the blinds to get a view of the city of Annapolis.

"More human?" I was confused.

"People have to know that you're approachable and the way your office is sets the tone. You need pieces that say you are strong and no nonsense but also pieces that say that you care about people and you're not some cold militant man with an agenda, even if you are."

"I'll let that comment slide, beautiful." I understood what she was saying; with politicians you needed to make yourself seem ruthless and aggressive, you had to play hard ball, but with the public you had to appear a family oriented person. The people wanted someone with their best interest in mind, someone who would stand up for their beliefs; that was why they voted.

Jazmine hung my degrees up behind my desk and on the opposite wall a canvas painting of an African woman looking out at the sun setting over the sea while she gathered water. She looked at my desk and studied it intently. I looked at her until she looked up at me.

"I'm trying to figure out if I want our wedding picture on your desk or on the bookshelf. You've got to have a memory of me here to remind you of the hot wife waiting for you." I smirked at her; she gave me the perfect opening. I picked her up and laid her on the desk. Her skirt hiked up and she wrapped her butterscotch legs around my hips.

"How 'bout this for a memory?" She smiled a devilish smile at me and sat up to begin unbuttoning my dress shirt. We christened my desk in what was one of our many office sex frenzies.

A smile broke on my face as I traced Jazmine's face on our picture. She looked as if she hadn't aged a day from then. I stared at my face. I had a smirk on my face while Jazmine laughed at my mouth covered in vegan frosting. In the next shot that was in our wedding album at home, I grabbed her to me and kissed her, spreading the frosting onto her lips as well. Jazmine and I were a happy couple. We'd been through so much together that it felt like we were much older than our 30 years. I continued to memorize every detail of the pictures until I felt my eyes water. I massaged away the tears before they had a chance to fall. Today was not the day for nostalgia.

"Mr. Freeman, it's almost 1 o'clock. You'll be late if you don't leave soon." It took me a moment for Tasha's voice to register in my head.

"Thank you Tasha. I should be back in an hour, no more than two." She gave me a sad look then turned to leave my office once more.

"It's not too late Mr. Freeman." She definitely knew. I looked her in the eye then shook my head. Grabbing my suit jacket and keys I walked out of my office and down to the parking garage. My meeting was at 2 o'clock, giving me enough time to drive back to Baltimore and to the attorney's office.

I wanted to punch Cindy in the face right about now. We had been in Lowes for an hour and a half trying to pick the color scheme for the nursery so we could pick the scheme for the baby shower. I understood, from my own shower and nursery painting, that the colors were very important and were the beginning of many lifelong decisions concerning children; right after choosing a name. All of these decisions would be a lot easier if we knew the sex of the baby of course. I mean honestly, how many neutral colors were there?

Cindy had said no to so many colors, shades, tints, and hues she would even piss Crayola and Roseart off. We had told her to go with a light or sky blue because lighter shades could represent girls as well as boys. She vetoed it because she wanted something as unique as her baby was going to be. The sales associate had suggested Easter yellow because yellow was a universal color. Cindy of course happened to hate the color yellow. Seriously who hates yellow?! We thought all hope was lost until the clerk called us over to yet another display. Cindy took one look at the color and her eyes widened.

"That's it. That's it." Her eyes watered. I'd never seen my girl so emotional, but I understood. The nursery was an important part; it made having the baby so much more real than just taking the test. Cindy had chosen a light mint green, a unisex color that was true to its name; many unisex colors could easily become too boyish or girly depending on its accent color or shade. Cindy looked at me and my artist's brain immediately took over looking for the perfect colors to accent the base. I picked up a swatch of crème, an earthy brown color that was in between chocolate and beige, and lastly a swatch of true gold. The crème would work as a border color while the tannish brown would complement the softness of the green. The gold would serve as an accent to the tan, giving it a regal look. Cindy smiled at my choice in color and told me to pick up as many cans as I would need. Riley had been kind enough to provide me with the dimensions of the room they were turning into the nursery and luckily the room was white so it wouldn't take too much paint to go over the walls.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to paint the nursery for me. Riley would be absolutely clueless." Cindy blinked back the tears.

"You know I would never say no to the chance to paint my niece or nephew's room. Plus I know the fear of having your husband paint your nursery, trust me."

"He did a good job."

"Yes he did, despite the hell I gave him." We laughed at the memory. I was determined to paint X's nursery, and I would have had Huey not kicked me out of the house. He kept threatening to make me stay at my parents' until the room was done. I had heard many lectures on my careless endangerment of our son by trying to be around the fumes and lead that corporate paints have. I had relented slightly but I was terrified that I would hate the way he painted it or that he would leave streaks or uneven coating. Cindy had assured me that Huey's perfectionism wouldn't allow him to make mistakes in painting his son's room; she made Riley help as extra security. Once the room was properly aired out and dry, Huey took me in to see the completed work. I had almost dropped to the floor in tears. X's nursery was beautiful. It was navy blue, white, and gray, and had cute cartoon wolves on the appliances. When I had asked Huey about the wolves he had told me what they stood for: courage, intelligence, wisdom, loyalty, caution, fearlessness, and ferocity; things that he hoped our son would inherit from us.

"I can't wait to see the magic you work on my baby's room."

"Well you won't see it until after everything is dry and finished. You know I hate people judging before they see the finished product."

"Since when am I people?"

"You know what I mean, Cindy." She scowled at me. I shook my head and packed up the cans of paint and carried them to the parking lot.

"My mom called. She wants to help with the shower." Cindy's mom was a very touchy subject. Despite the rumor that Riley took so much joy exploiting Cindy on when they were kids, her parents didn't get a divorce, but Cindy's mother wasn't much of one. Many times Cindy would stay with me or her mother would leave on one of her "trips"; codenamed for when she would meet a new lover at a hotel in Baltimore. Cindy and her mother disagreed on just about everything there was to disagree on, except Riley's good looks of course. Cindy's mother asking to help with the baby shower was just another attempt to control her wayward daughter and neither Riley nor I was going to let her piss Cindy off when she didn't need the extra stress.

"Riley and I will keep her in check."

"Thanks, now enough with that. When are you and Riley going to take me shopping for all the baby stuff? I can't wait to pick it all out! My baby gone be the flyest thing to hop out the womb."

"See that's the thing; you don't get to see anything until I complete the room. Riley wants it all to be a surprise for you."

"His cornrows must be too tight cause he done lost his goddamn mind." I laughed but my girl was dead serious.

"You'll have to take that up with him. He just told me to make it a surprise and to not let you in on anything but the colors."

"What kind of trifling trick are you to go along with that?!" We drove down the highway back to Woodcrest.

"You'll thank me for all I put up with one day."

"For all you put up with? You must have lost your mind too." Our conversation flinted from multiple topics on our way to Cindy's. I unloaded the cans and brushes into the garage.

"I think we still have a lot of X's baby furniture that I should be able to repaint for your baby's room." Huey and I kept a lot of X's things because we were planning on having at least two more children, but things didn't work out that way.

"That'd be great; I'm completely at a loss with this baby stuff. The only thing I know is that a baby needs more than the Jordans Riley is obsessed with our baby wearing."

"That is going to be one fly baby." We both laughed picturing a newborn in baby Jordans. "Have you thought of any names yet?"

"I was thinking Kendra, after his mom or if it was a boy naming him after Granddad. Riley doesn't really want our baby named after his mom; said she wasn't a good person to want our daughter to be like."

"What does that mean?"

"Hell if I know, but I understand, my mother isn't such a great person either so I respect his decision. He told me he was thinking about naming her after Carolynn Rogers."

"The girl in your class who had the biggest crush on him until you threatened her within an inch of her life?"

"Yes that broad! He was joking but I almost slapped the shit out of him."

"He would have deserved that. That crazy chick is no one to joke about. Rumor has it she's trying to snag one of the Raven's players who moved into the neighborhood."

"The thirsty broad can keep trying, as long as she stays away from Riley, I don't care what she does." Carolynn Rogers and Cindy McPhearson we arch rivals to the bone. Carolynn's family had moved into the neighborhood when Cindy and Riley were freshmen and immediately set her sights on him. To say Cindy was pissed was an understatement. While Riley noticed Carolynn for her early developments, he remained oblivious to the fact that Cindy had a crush on him since the first time they met. Cindy was devastated when he and Carolynn began dating but held it in and tried to be supportive for Riley's sake. You couldn't even call it dating because all he and Carolynn did was fool around. Riley was still under the impression that if he paid for a meal the girl became a hoe; what made him not having to pay and still getting oral different, Huey and I never understood.

Everything was fine until Carolynn caught a case of gonorrhea and Cindy happened to overhear where she caught it from and told Carolynn that if she had infected Riley, she'd be good at giving head without any teeth. A rumor that went unconfirmed stated that one of the varsity basketball players had a crush on Cindy and was going to ask her to Homecoming. Carolynn being her arch rival found out whom and wanted to get to him before he went to Cindy. Riley had dropped her like a hot potato and asked Cindy to come with him when Huey and I took him to the hospital. Riley was clean but he had sworn of easy broads. Carolynn was relieved to know that Cindy was going to 'shove 28 teeth so far down her throat the tooth fairy was going to have to go up her ass to find them'. That was when I told Huey to trap Riley into asking Cindy to homecoming; the rest was history for them.

"I was thinking Shanise. Shanise Queen Freeman sounds good."

"I like that, pretty and simple, but powerful. Where's the Queen from?"

"The old school Queen Latifah, back when she was a rapper. You know Set It Off was my movie!" 'Set It Off' was indeed one of Cindy's favorite movies next to 'Baby Boy'; she admired the strong women and their gangster attitude. I began picking up the tarps to start covering the room that would become the nursery when my phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, I recognized it as X's school and got a little worried. X had reverted back to his overtly quiet streak and his teachers were starting to get very worried.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Freeman? This is Donna Kartoffi, the principal at J. Edgar Hoover Elementary School."

"What can I do for you Principal Kartoffi?"

"We have Malcolm in the office and we need you to come pick him up. It seems he was in an altercation with another boy, whose parents are on the way to pick him up as well. We called Mr. Freeman as well." X getting in trouble? Now I knew something was wrong with him. It took a lot for X to get angry; he inherited my temperament over Huey's thank goodness, but X was a budding martial arts expert like his father and would fight if he felt he had to defend something important to him.

"I'm on my way." I hung up the phone and met Cindy's concerned gaze. "X got in trouble for fighting today and I need to go speak to the principal. The shock on Cindy's face was almost comical.

"I never would have thought X would inherit the Freeman temper."

"Me neither, but apparently he did, which makes me wonder what in the world this boy said to him to set him off like this."

"X is really starting to act out; maybe you should take him to counseling like your white boy suggested."

"Yeah, maybe." I didn't want to think that X may need counseling, but I couldn't ignore the negative effect Huey and I's decision was having on him. I needed to get him the help he needed as soon as possible. I said goodbye to Cindy and hopped in my car parked in the driveway. In a few minutes I arrived at the school and tried my best to keep a calm front as I marched into the office like a woman on a mission.

I was stunned when I walked into the office. It was not an altercation, it was a massacre. The boy twice X's size and two years older looked like he had been attacked by a rabid dog. His shirt was torn and stretched and had a trail of blood running down it. His nose was either badly bruised or broken and a black eye was starting to form. His jeans had many scuffs on them and his hair stood in gravity defying angles. I looked over at X and was relieved to see minimal damage. His afro was messy and had a few leaves on it, but other than a few grass stains, he was unscathed.

X looked up at me with tears in his eyes then looked back at the ground, knowing he was in trouble. I turned to look at the other boy who refused to meet my gaze as well. He was right to be afraid. Huey walked in a few minutes after me but kept his face unreadable after taking in the scene I had walked in on. The door to the principal's office opened and out stepped the parents of the other boy. We made eye contact but the parents were just as scary as their son. The called him and told him to get his things. The boy walked out of the office in front of his father but his mother stopped and looked up at me. I could see the fear in her eyes; I tilted my chin up and raised my brow, daring her to say something to me.

"I'm sorry for Conner's actions."

"Thank you, but don't apologize for him. Let your son apologize for himself; he's old enough." The woman bit her lip and nodded before following her family out the door.

"Mr. and Mrs. Freeman." The principal called us in. We sat in the leather chairs across from her and waited while she closed the door. "I must say I am shocked. We have never had a problem with Malcolm before and he is usually such a sweet, mild-mannered child."

"Would you mind telling us what happened, before condemning our son." Huey leaned into the chair and pinned his maroon eyes on the ill-prepared woman. Huey had had many run ins with the principal when we were in school here and knew their tendency to blame the African American child as the trouble maker.

"According to both boys and the teacher, Conner started the fight. He said some…unacceptable things to Malcolm which elicited a reaction from your son."

"What did he say?" My eyes narrowed at the woman. I felt like a mother lion ready to pounce over the desk at her. It was rare that someone was more intimidated of me than they were of Huey. But in those rare moments, people were right to be wary of me; I was a viper when it came to my son.

"From what I heard, Conner said some unsavory things about the African American family." My hands tightened on the leather seat. Huey calmly set his hand on top of mine; it seemed that our patience level had switched.

"I will not ask you again, what did Conner say?"

"Mrs. Freeman, there is no need to be hostile."

"Principal Kartoffi, you have not seen hostile." She gulped and took a drink of water in attempted to hide her nervousness.

"Conner Banes said that he had overheard statistics about how by the time Malcolm turned Conner's age, 7 by the way, his parents would be divorced." Huey's hand clenched over mine. It was understandable why X flipped. The statistic was hitting too close to home.

"And what is being done about this altercation?" Huey questioned through narrow eyes. We both had an idea how this was going to play out.

"While our first thought was to suspend both boys, their teacher recommended that it would be too harsh of a punishment for Malcolm's first offence, especially since though he was the aggressor in the fight, he was not the one who started the conflict between them. As such Conner will be seated on the opposite side of the room and they are not to speak or be near each other for a month. Should either boy seek the other out whether in the classroom or on the playground, they will both be suspended." I nodded. It was a fair punishment but would not solve the root of the problem.

"I suggest Conner have mandatory counseling on racial sensitivity by the school counselor." Kartoffi looked surprised at my suggestion.

"Mrs. Freeman, we cannot do that."

"Why not? It's a reasonable request that would help prevent incidents like this from occurring." Huey countered.

"We cannot force Conner to undergo such counseling without subjecting Malcolm to anger management counseling." What kind of sense does that make?

"X doesn't need anger management; he didn't start this. However Conner needs sensitivity counseling. If he was more sensitive to the effect of stereotyping and statistics, he wouldn't have a bloody nose and a black eye. Or maybe I should call his parents instead and address my concerns on their parenting in regards to the information they allow their son to obtain and share." Kartoffi had no response to my reasoning.

"He's just a child, Mrs. Freeman."

"My son is two years younger than him. Statistically and psychologically speaking, 7 year olds are old enough to determine right from wrong. If we do not teach them as children how can we expect them to know as adults. I would consider my request, before we send X to another school and J. Edgar Hoover loses some of its diversity funding." I stood up and walked out of the room and picked up X. He laid his head on my shoulder and I whispered reassuring words to him as he tried to calm his sniffles.

"In matters concerning or son, my wife is not someone to be trifled with, Principal Kartoffi. By consider she meant you will do." Huey walked out of her office and placed his hand on my back leading me outside the school. I sat X on the bench, kneeled in front of him and wiped some of the tears and dirt from his face. Huey stood behind me like a protective shadow, vigilantly guarding his family against any harm.

"I'm sorry Mommy."

"It's not your fault baby, I know those words hurt." I fought the quivering in my throat. It was never easy being mixed or African American in a predominately white neighborhood or school. White people read reports and statistics for entertainment and assumed they knew everything about your culture.

"I don't want to be a statistic Mommy. I just want my family."

"X we're still your family, nothing changes except between you and Mommy, or me and you." Huey attempted to soothe X's fears.

"But it changes between you and Mommy. I just want my family; I don't want to be a statistic anymore." Huey and I looked at each other. We easily understood X's pain. It seemed like all our lives we were fighting becoming a statistic, or trying to prove them wrong. If I could shelter him just a little longer from the cruelty of this world, then I would do that.

"That's what you want X? To be a family again?"

"Yes." He furiously wiped the tears blurring his vision. His eyes were irritated and puffy and I knew he would have a headache later on. I buckled down the vile rising in my throat. Being a family wasn't something X wanted; it was something he needed. It was Huey and my responsibility as a parent to give our son what he needed.

"Okay X, we'll be a family again." Huey and X whipped their head toward me. They both gave me that same puzzled look that I had come to love and adore. Biting back my own tears, I smiled at my son.

"Really?" X looked at me skeptically; he didn't want to get his hopes up only for them to be dashed by my next words.

"Jazmine—"

"All he wants is his family, Huey. We're going to give him that. We'll move back into our house this weekend, and Mommy and Daddy won't get a divorce, okay X?"

"Thank you Mommy! I promise we'll be the best family again!" He threw himself into my arms and I let the tears fall when he could no longer see my face. Huey knelt down beside me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pressing his lips to my temple.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He whispered into my hair.

"No not really." I whispered back; my voice cracking in the process.

"We could find another way to work this out."

"No, this is what X needs." He pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arm around X as well. "Will you help me move our stuff on Saturday?"

"Of course."

"Thank you." He pressed another kiss to my temple. His warmth flooded into my body. X curled into me more and both Huey and my arms wrapped around him like protective wings.

"We'll make this work," I nodded into him. "We'll make this work." He repeated. Uncertainty swirled in my stomach like a dragon snarling to be free. I had so many questions and no answers.