When I finally pulled back, his hands came up to my face. Thumbs wiping my tears. Eyes scanning me like he was looking for damage.
“You okay? They treating you right? Anybody put they hands on you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me, Zainab.”
“I’m NOT.” I almost laughed. “I mean, the food is nasty, and my cellmate snore like a damn lawnmower, but I’m good. We good.”
His eyes dropped to my belly. And his whole face changed. Got soft in a way only I ever got to see.
Then he kissed me.
And I mean KISSED me. Deep. Hungry. Like he was trying to make up for every phone call where we couldn’t say what we really wanted to say. His hands in my hair, my fingers gripping his shirt, both of us forgetting where we was.
I knew the guards were watching. Knew this wasn’t exactly allowed. But Prime must’ve slipped somebody something because ain’t nobody move to stop us.
When we finally came up for air, both of us breathing hard, this man dropped to his knees.
Right there. On that dirty ass floor. Prime Banks. On his KNEES.
His hands spread across my belly, big and warm through the thin jumpsuit. He leaned in and pressed his lips right where our daughter was growing.
“Hey, princess,” he said soft. “It’s Daddy. You being good for Mama?”
I laughed through my tears. “She been kicking the hell out of me.”
“That’s my girl.” He kissed my belly again. “Hold tight, okay? Daddy’s gonna get y’all out of here. I put that on everything.”
The guard cleared his throat. “Ten minutes.”
Prime stood up slow, taking my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. He didn’t let go.
We sat down across from Camille, but he kept my hand under the table. Squeezing every few seconds like he needed to make sure I was still real.
“Alright, here’s where we are,” Camille said, all business. “The extradition is moving fast. You’ll be on a plane to California within a week.”
My stomach dropped. I knew it was coming but hearing it out loud hit different.
“I already filed for a bail hearing,” she continued. “We’re fighting to get you released pending trial. Since you have no prior record, strong community ties, and you’repregnantpregnant… well that works in our favor.”
“What are the chances?” Prime asked. Voice calm but his grip on my hand got tighter.
“Real talk? It’s a murder charge. They don’t usually grant bail.” Camille flipped through some papers. “But the case against her is weak. Real weak. Circumstantial at best. Somebody wanted her locked up fast and didn’t care about building a solid case to do it.”
Prime’s jaw ticked. I knew that look.
“Before you fly out, I’m getting you a doctor’s appointment,” Camille said. “Standard for pregnant inmates being transported. You’ll need medical clearance, and I want everything documented. How far along are you?”
“Almost eight months.”
“Good. That’s leverage. No judge wants the headlines of a woman giving birth in a prison cell.” She started packing up her stuff. “Let me make some calls. I’ll give y’all a minute.”
She walked away, and it was just us.
I leaned in close. So close my lips brushed his ear.
“I need to tell you something.”
