Page 33 of A Capo’s Love: Featuring A Don’s Love

“Ah—” I screamed at the top of my lungs, losing my balance.

Balani rushed over to me and kneeled. A gush of water spilled out of me as I cradled my stomach and crotched down low.

“Honey Boo⁠—”

“Balani, please,” I cried, not looking up at him as the pain pulsed through me again.

“Nova,” his voice was full of concern.

“No, no, no!” I wailed, overwhelmed with emotion and pain.

This wasn’t how my labor was supposed to go.

“Was that—” I swallowed down saliva and forced myself to breathe through the pain.

“Was that my camper?” I forced myself upright, my knees slid against the liquid that spilled out of me.

“Yes, it was.” Balani offered me an apologetic look.

A low sob escaped my mouth before I could stop it. Another wave hit my lower stomach before I doubled over slightly, gripping my stomach now with both hands.

“Call somebody, my water broke,” I managed to get the words out.

Balani’s face became distorted. I started to see two of him. It felt like my mind was all over the place. My camper was gone… I was about to give birth… and Luca was setting fires…

CHAPTER 9

Amaris

YOU BLESSED BABY.

Hot water loosened the tension and anger I’d been carrying all week. The feeling alone almost made me emotional because it finally felt good to feel it releasing from my body. Steam filled my bathroom thick and heavy while the music I had blasting sounded like a live concert.

My father was the main cause for my stress and anxiety levels being sky-high all week. I inhaled the eucalyptus steam then exhaled, thinking about how Keisha’s annoying ass was right about me needing a damn life and also about getting laid.

This would be the first Friday in a long time that I decided to take the weekend off. Mentally, I needed a damn weekend to myself. I didn’t want to deal with customers nor employees… most of all, I didn’t want to think about Jeremiah Reeds, although that would end up being a hard task since I was living in his house.

In a way, I hated I grew up under my dad all the time. Nobody told me being a daddy’s girl meant that the same man who teaches you what love looks like, can also be the first one to show you how it breaks. With my dad, it was never intentionally. Love from a man like him came with shit that made your nerves bad as hell.

He’d go days and sometimes weeks missing. Unanswered phone calls really drove me up the wall. I’d stay up some nights staring at the time on my phone with a sick feeling twisting my insides up so bad, that I’d throw up from all the horrible thoughts that came with him not at least telling me he was okay. I always felt like when he went silent that it meant something bad.

As a little girl, I saw a king, he was my superhero… As a woman, I saw the cost of the crown he refused to give up because of pride and selfishness. I found myself always thinking I could protect him no matter what when I knew deep down inside it wasn’t possible.

Although I tred to prepare myself for the worse with him, I knew that if something ever happened, I’d lose my damn mind. He was all I had, literally. The only person I was taught besides God to trust. My momma taught me what real absence felt like, and my dad taught me how to survive it.

I remember each time vividly getting my heart broke over and over by the woman that I refuse to acknowledge now. A kid can always sense when an adult didn’t like them or just had dark energy attached to them. My mom was the type of woman that made everything about a nigga, down to keeping a baby just because she thought it would keep the nigga she cherished.

She never gave a fuck about me. My father used to kneel in front of me every time Karlissa left to tell me…

“Don’t ever question if you’re loved, Mari… I see that hurt in your eyes but you gon’ always have me a hundred percent. So don’t beg that bitch for love, don’t ever chase after her if she don’t give that shit to you freely. That’s why she’ll always be miserable and bitter because she refuses to do right by you.”

I listened to him every time, even when it hurt. Because my mother had a way of appearing like a storm that never stayed long enough to water anything. She’d come around when it was convenient. When she thought her presence in my life would pull at him. I used to beg my dad to be nice and let her stay just so I could have her in the house. It felt normal somewhat to see her cooking.

Although it would crush me to see her looking at him with love shining bright in her eyes then at me as if I were a burden and a sacrifice she chose to have in order to keep him… I wanted her, even loved her… I just wanted her to want and love me too. Her eyes never stayed on me long, and when they did land on me, all I saw was emptiness.

I couldn’t even remember ever hearing her say she loved me, but I couldn’t count how many times I said it to her. It wasn’t until she missed my big fifteenth birthday party that my dad had thrown for me that I decided to cut her off. I told myself that all I had was Jeremiah because he never let me question where I stood with him.

Whenever I cried about her to him, he never dismissed it. He’d hold me for however long it took for me to feel better each time about her lack of love, care, and even concern for me. My dad wasn’t perfect, but to me, he was worth the extra stress. He did the best he could although sometimes his best wasn’t enough.