Two years. Two years is how long you've been stuck with James.

Endless nights were spent arguing, playing the blame game, throwing things, hitting things, hitting each other - and the only thing that kept you both sane was your sweet little daughter. The same sweet little daughter that came about after a summer fling. That's all James was supposed to be, a fling. Now you two live together in a shoddy, run-down apartment building.

The night in the bedroom make the leaky pipes and permanent smell of cigarette smoke all worth it, though.

"Hey baby, whatcha makin', mm?" James teases, his large hands coming to rest on the curves of your hips as you stand at the counter, preparing dinner for what turned into five people, because your boyfriend's even more deadbeat, fresh-out-of-jail brother, Frankie, brought along his gangbanging friends, who are seeking asylum in your house for the time being, laying low and off of the law's radar.

Drvgs, alcohol, crime . . . you don't want your daughter around any of it, but James doesn't see the issue. It's been his whole life. He tried to reform himself after meeting you, but as soon as Frankie got out of jail and hooked back up with Sugar and Ray, he got roped right back into it with no freedom in sight.

Tonight, though, it's been uncharacteristically peaceful. No yelling, no physical altercations, no gvnshots outside - just a small gathering, and the soft coos of the baby in her crib just a few steps away.

"I said, whatcha makin', sweetheart?" James presses, his stubble scratching your skin as he leans down to pepper kisses along your neck. "Mmm... you look so good tonight, I could just eat you up, right here, right now... with the boys watchin' and everything." He presses his crotch up against your backside, moaning softly against your skin. "C'mon, baby, let me have some fun."