I’ve spent the past couple days keeping to myself, adjusting to this new normal so to speak . . . but here I am, breaking down in the arms of this man. One of the few people to show me kindness since my capture. He’s spoken to me like a woman, acting as though I’m not a victim which I appreciate more than he could possibly know. When he looks at me, he doesn’t soften his features like the others do. At times he’s rolled his eyes, appeared to be displeased and it’s refreshing. I want to be treated as an equal, not someone who’s less. Not someone who’s being pitied. This man has even gone as far as to help me find a perfect family for this little one. I will never be able to truly express the amount of gratitude I hold in my heart.
“You love her. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel everything you’re feeling.” Dante continues to soothe me, holding me close. He rubs his hand on my back in a circular motion while his other cradles my head against his chest, running his fingers against my temple.
“This may sound awful, but I thought I’d hate her. I thought . . . after everything he did, I’d project it onto her . . . but one day I just wanted to protect her from his clutches. Now that he’s gone and I’m out of that wretched place . . . the only person I want to protect her from is myself.” I cry, breathing heavily as the words become even more difficult to say.
“Amara, I don’t know you very well, but I think that’s an awful thing to say. Even though you’re giving her up for adoption, you will always be her mother. You’re gonna be the first person to ever stand up for this child, to put her needs above your own. Fuck, you’ve already done it. I don’t see why she’d need protection from the one who’s been fighting for her. If you ask me, you’re her guardian angel.”
I glance up to Dante’s icy blue eyes and see this man isn’t bullshitting me. My mother always taught us that eyes are windows to our souls, and unless Dante is a master at deception, his words are as genuine as they come.
I begin to feel a strong pressure, almost like a hand is being pushed against my back. It slowly ventures around to the front of my stomach. I’ve been having this pressure for the last few hours, but it’s been a while since I had a back spasm. They hurt so badly, and it completely knocks the wind out of me. Thankfully, I haven’t been standing up when they strike me. I played soccer in high school and sustained an injury to my L5 in my lower back. The option was surgery or going the holistic route like visiting the chiropractor, so I opted for that.
Actually, the pain started last night when I was trying to sleep. I was so tired and finally caught a little cat nap out on this lounge chair. Out of nowhere the pain grows exponentially worse and I can’t hold back my grimace. “Amara, are you alright?”
I bite my bottom lip, shut my eyes and nod my head. “Yeah, it’s just a back spasm. I used to get them all the time. It’s a long story, but I hurt my back when I was a teenager.”
“Okay . . . will it pass, or?”
“It’ll pass. They always do. I just need to give it a couple minutes. I must’ve twisted my back last night or something in my sleep. They’ve been getting worse and more frequent . . . god. Sucks I can’t take anything for them either.”
I open my eyes and see Dante focused on me. He seems worried. “What’s the matter with you?” I ask, not liking his expression.
“Are you sure this is a back spasm? The doctor said you could go into labor at any time. This could be—”
“I seriously doubt I’m in labor.” I immediately shut down his theory. If I was in labor my water would’ve broken. It would’ve been a nasty, disgusting mess like it is in the movies. That hasn’t happened, so I’m fine.
Or at least I don’t think it happened. Suddenly every thought of doubt comes rushing to my mind. How would I even know if it happened? It’s not like I ever read that book like all the other upcoming mothers do. I didn’t go to Lamaze class or have luncheon dates with other pregnant mothers to talk about our experiences. I never had the opportunity to see a physician until a couple days ago, and the mere shock of everything clouded the few things I should’ve asked questions about.
My immediate shut down of his suggestion begins to turn to worry, and most of all, fear. “Dante, I don’t know if you’re right . . . but I think you might be.” I confess, feeling my chest get heavy with anxiousness.
He rubs my back like he’d been doing for so long, “Okay. I’m going to get on the phone and call one of the doctors we have on call. She works for my familia. We’re going to sort this out.”
“Alright.” I mutter in response, staring at the ground.
Dante releases me, rises from the lounger, and starts to walk away as he pulls his phone from his back pocket. “Wait. Dante!” I glance up, keeping my eyes trained on him. The moment he turns back to look at me I’m speaking again. “Don’t leave. Please. I just. Please don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, mi reyna. I’ll be right here.”
Chapter Thirteen
The world is full of monsters with friendly faces and angels full of scars
~ Unknown
Dante
I stand on the corner of the concrete patio and tell her I’ll be right
