“This is not my home, Gio,” I said softly.
He frowned at me, like he was getting madder by each passing second.
“I am really getting tired of hearing that shit. Atlanta is not your home; that nigga is not your home. Cali is your home—I am your home, your happy place. The same shit that we had months ago, we are going to have it now.”
I looked at him calmly and shook my head.
“You know what?” I said, turning to face him. “When you are with somebody so long, they do become your safe space, the love of your life, your home, but when that home was never standing on solid ground, and you finally open your eyes, you realize that the home that you were in was never your permanent home, just a rental. My permanent home is in Atlanta.”
I could feel the air coming out of Gio’s nose the way he was breathing.
“So you are calling me a rental?”
I nodded. “I was sharing you, right?”
“You can’t let that go?”
“You can’t let me go?” I fired back.
“You know what, Islah…I am not gonna do this with you.”
Gio grabbed me by my arm, and I tried to pull away from him, yelling for him to let go, hitting his hand as hard as I could, but the nigga had a different kind of strength with him that he could just ignore it. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking up at them, while I was still beating on him, and he picked me up, carrying me up the flights of stairs while I fought him the whole way.
Once we got to the top of the steps, he dropped me on the floor and pulled me, kicking and screaming, into one of the rooms.
“Stay your ass in this room until you get some fuckin’ sense!”
He slammed the door behind him, and I lay on the bed crying and praying to God for help until I fell asleep.
When I woke up later, I didn’t know what time it was, but Gio was tapping my foot.
I kicked him.
“Man, can we stop all this shit, please?” he said softly. “I don’t want to do this with you.”
I sat up and looked him up and down. It looked like he had showered. He smelled better, had fresh clothes on, and lined up his hair.
“Well, I don’t want to be here with you.”
Gio sat on the foot of the bed and palmed his face before letting out a deep breath.
“Islah…I loved you—I still love you with all my heart, and I never meant for the shit with Trina to hurt you. I just wanted to get ahead for us, and I did that. That bitch was just mad I didn’t want her.”
I shrugged. “Okay…thanks for the apology. Now she can have you.”
“You know I don’t want her, I never wanted her. I was making a home with you?—”
“While paying her rent?” I asked, cutting him off. “Her rent in her house while we were still in a two-bedroom apartment on Crenshaw.”
Gio nodded. “Can you give me another chance?” he asked. I could see tears forming in his eyes. “Can you give me a chance to make it up to you, a chance to right my wrong with you and show you I can be the nigga that you needed and wanted for seven years?”
I noticed that he seemed to be trying to calm his nerves, and that was something I could work with to get my ass outta the house.
I took a deep breath, getting myself together to get into character.
“Fine, Gio, I will give you a chance. This is your only chance, but if it doesn’t work—honestly don’t work—you have to let me go back to Atlanta.”
“I will buy you the ticket myself.”
