Page 299 of Invisible Bars
“That man loves you.”
I took a shaky breath.
Okay. I just need to talk to my husband.
I took another deep breath, feeling the air expand in my lungs, ready to confront whatever awaited me on the other side.
I spotted Imanio across the yard, settled at a folding table surrounded by Chi and a couple of other guys, playing dominoes. He was leaned back in his chair, exuding an easy confidence, his trademark grin plastered across his face, like he knew with absolute certainty that victory was his—because, deep down, he probably was winning. In one hand, he cradled a cup filled with something dark and frothy, while a toothpick lounged lazily in the corner of his mouth.
I hated to interrupt him when he was in that zone, but necessity pulled me forward.
“Hey,” I called out, my voice straining to break through the cacophony of clinking bottles and shouting friends. “I need to talk to you.”
The moment my words reached him, his smile faded.
“What’s wrong? Who said something to you?” he snapped, his expression shifting to one of immediate concern. “Somebody touched you? Looked at you wrong? Where they at?”
Imanio’s protective instincts flared to life, and I could see the shift in his demeanor as he began to push back from the table, ready to confront any threat.
Chi let out a low whistle, shaking his head with an amused grin.
“Damn, bro, let me clear the table first.”
I grasped Imanio’s hand, urgency overtaking me.
“No, baby. N-no one touched me,” I insisted quickly, my voice a frenzied whisper. “Relax.”
A nervous tic jolted through me at that moment, an unsettling premonition gnawing at my insides.
“I smell bad vibes in corduroy pants!”
He blinked at me, his brow knitting in confusion, but not a hint of a smile broke through his serious facade.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I assured, taking a deep, calming breath. “But we really need to talk. Just… not out here.”
He nodded before strolling alongside me, cutting through the crowd with the purpose of someone with business to handle—a silent sentinel by my side.
We ended up taking a stroll on the quieter sidewalk, the distant sounds of revelry fading behind us.
“Talk to me,” he prompted, his voice low and steady, encouraging me to open up.
I exhaled hard, mustering my courage.
“Okay, so, um—I’m not trying to freak you out, but I’ve been thinking, and I might be… like, maybe… p-probably pregnant.”
His brow arched, surprise flickering across his features. But he said nothing, so I pressed on, fueled by a mix of anxiety and the need to unburden my thoughts.
“I threw up earlier, and I realized I missed my period. I didn’t even notice at first, which is crazy ‘cause I a-always notice—but this time I totally didn’t. And Mama Rose said she’d been dreaming about fish. And then I started doing the math in my head, and?—”
He interrupted me with a chuckle, his laughter warm, shaking his head as if he found my rambling endearing.
I frowned. “You’re… laughing?”
A shudder ran through my shoulders, and the following words burst out like they were shot from a cannon.
“The fishes are swimming in my stomach!”
