Solana slapped the bed again when I didn’t respond verbally. “Go home. Go home to Bahati.”
“You mean go home to Shya cuz that’s the only reason I go home.”
She huffed and threw her head back against the headboard. Her face softened, and her round eyes found mine. She didn’t deserve to be so fucking fine and a cokehead. Those two things should’ve never crossed over into one woman.
“How is she?” she asked, her tone even.
“Solana, is this an argument or a conversation?”
“Tal vez ambos.(Maybe both.)”
I crossed my hands in front of my waist. “Spoiled. She’s fucking spoiled. She’s not talking.”
“Still?”
“Still.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“That she’s good.”
“I would like to see her.”
I squinted my eyes at Solana. I trusted her with my child more than I trusted her to leave the basement. The shit had my mind fucked up because it didn’t make any sense. I’d have to sit on the idea of her seeing Shya, even though baby girl was the most calm she’d been on the plane with Solana. She was also okay with Solana on the bed when Bahati and I were at the hospital. The flashback had me scrunching up my face. When I looked back at her, her face matched mine.
“What is it, Solana?”
“Are we not going to…”
“What… Fuck?”
She nodded all innocently and shit.
I grabbed my crotch, glad that my dick had calmed down. “Nah…”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to. That’s not what I came here for.”
“You still haven’t said why you’re here.”
“Solana, baby…”
“Shio…” She matched my tone, and instead of responding, I just stared at her.
I need to bounce.
“Shio?”
“Is Italian sneaking you cocaine, Solana?” I asked, and she drew her head back, offense written on her face as if she wasn’t in here for being a cokehead.
“What? No! Why would you ask me that?”
“Why you always in the bathroom? At my crib, you were always in the bathroom and the closet… And we know what went down in there.”
“Wow, Shio.”
“A few days ago, you went in the bathroom and was in there forty-nine minutes. When you came out, you were walking funny, and your eyes were red.”
