Page 17 of Certified Pressure 3
“What are you doing back here?” she asked, her tone measured, and before I could respond, she added, “Pressure must not have chosen you.”
The words slid into me like a blade, not enough to make me bleed on the outside but sharp enough to sting deep. I swallowed the irritation and forced my smile back into place. “No, Mama,” I said evenly. “He did choose me.”
I lifted my hand and stretched it toward her, the diamond on my finger catching the chandelier light above us. The sparkle filled the room, impossible to ignore, and I let it shine while I spoke. “We’re engaged.”
Her eyebrows arched high before she could stop them, and the surprise on her face gave her away before she could cover it.She quickly forced another smile, pressing her lips into a neat line like she wanted me to believe she was happy. “Engaged?” she repeated softly, her tone laced with disbelief. A small laugh followed, and she pressed her hand against her hip. “Well… congratulations.”
It wasn’t blatant disrespect, but I felt it. The forced smile, the sarcasm curled into her voice, the way her eyes scanned me as if she couldn’t quite believe a man like Pressure had asked me to marry him—it was irritating as hell.
She turned toward the kitchen, smoothing a hand over her bob like she was checking her reflection in her mind. “You should be careful though,” she said casually. “Men like him… men who have that kind of power and attention… they can’t be faithful to save their lives.”
I almost laughed out loud. The irony of it was ridiculous. She had no idea that while she was sitting at the salon letting somebody style her hair and polish her nails, her husband had been in their bed with another woman. She was trying to lecture me on what to look out for in a man while hers had just finished disrespecting her in the worst way. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything. It wasn’t worth blowing up the moment, even though every part of me wanted to throw it back in her face.
My father must have felt the shift in the room because he suddenly clapped his hands together and stood up with a wide grin. “Baby girl, I’m proud of you,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension. “And you know your mama and I will support every decision you make.”
He walked over to the bar cart and grabbed three champagne glasses, filling each one until the bubbles rose to the rim. He handed one to me, one to my mother, and held his own high.
“To my daughter,” he said, his smile genuine and his eyes glowing with pride. “To Kashmere and this new chapter in her life. May it be everything she deserves and more.”
I lifted my glass and tapped it against his, the warmth of his words sinking into me and softening the sharpness of what had just passed. My mother clinked her glass too, her smile plastered back onto her face as she echoed, “To Kashmere.”
But when I looked into her eyes, I saw the truth. She wasn’t really happy for me. She could raise her glass and force her smile, but underneath it all, there was something else. It was something closer to rivalry than love, and I felt it down to my core.
I sipped the champagne and leaned back into the couch, letting the bubbles fizz against my tongue while silently promising myself that no matter how my mother felt, nothing could take away from what Pressure and I had. He had chosen me, and that was all that mattered.
Chapel Grove
Another week later…
Zurie, be careful,” I said as I watched her skip across the grass with her braids bouncing. The sunlight caught her little face, and for a second, it almost felt normal. Three weeks ago, she was in the hospital bed, her head wrapped up in bandages, machines beeping around her while I prayed to God she would wake up. Now she was laughing and spinning in circles at the park like she had never been through brain surgery.
The doctors told me she could start easing back into her routine after a couple of weeks if she was healing well, and she’d been stronger every day since we left the hospital. I still carriedthe weight of fear though, like if I let her do too much, it might all come crashing down again. But she begged me to take her to the park, and I couldn’t tell her no. I owed her at least this piece of childhood back.
I sat on the bench with my phone in my lap, my head down because my body hadn’t been right lately. My breasts were sore, I had been throwing up almost every morning, and the headaches had me feeling like I was dragging myself through each day. I was only seven weeks pregnant, but it already felt like my whole world had shifted.
When I went to the clinic and heard that little heartbeat, I swear I couldn’t stop crying. That tiny sound put everything in perspective. I was carrying a life. I was carrying Pressure’s baby, and no matter how complicated things between us were, I couldn’t ignore that I needed him in some way. I hated admitting that to myself. I had been living with my uncle Lionel and Aunt Deanne since I left the hospital with Zurie. But I was really on my own the night my father put his hands on me and Pressure had to kick down that front door to protect me. I hadn’t seen or spoken to my father since then, and my mama hadn’t even tried to reach out. Even though I knew my parents were pathetic as hell, I still couldn’t believe how they’d basically abandoned Zurie.
I had been trying to stand tall on my own, refusing to just run into Pressure’s arms because I didn’t want to live under his rules. But I couldn’t deny how tired I was, and how much I wanted something solid for me and Zurie. She felt like my child now, not just my sister. I was the one making sure she ate, the one sitting by her bed every night, the one holding her hand when she was scared and now, I was about to bring another life into this mess.
I sighed and rubbed my forehead, scrolling through nothing on my phone to keep my mind from spiraling. Then I heard Zurie’s voice carry over from the swings.
“Wow! For me?!”
Her little squeal made me look up, and when my eyes landed on who she was talking to, my phone almost slipped out of my hands. Pressure was standing there like he owned the whole park, tall and broad with his tattoos peeking out from under his black T-shirt. In one hand he had balloons shaped like stars and hearts, and in the other he carried gift bags that looked heavy.
My stomach flipped so hard I thought I might throw up right there on the bench. I hadn’t even seen him walk up. I had no idea how he found us, and for a second, all I could do was stare.
Before I could process it, Zurie came running toward me with the brightest smile, holding a box in her little hands. “Pluto, look! He got me an iPad!”
She shoved it in my lap like it was the greatest treasure in the world, the plastic still sealed on the box. Her excitement was contagious, but my eyes went back to Pressure as he strolled over, cool and unbothered like he hadn’t just blown my whole day up.
He lowered himself onto the bench beside me, the balloons floating up over our heads. His eyes locked on mine, and I had to look away because the heat in his stare did something to me I wasn’t ready for. My heart raced in my chest even though I tried to keep my face neutral. I couldn’t let him see me soft.
He leaned over to help Zurie peel open the tape on her gift, his deep voice smooth as ever. “You gotta let ya sister hook it up to the Wi-Fi so you can watch all them cartoons I heard you like. It’s yours though, lil’ mama. Don’t let nobody else play with it if you don’t feel like sharin’.”
Zurie laughed and hugged the box tight, then threw her arms around him without hesitation. Watching her pressed againsthim like that sent another rush of confusion through me. He was so gentle with her, rubbing her back like she was his own. And in a way, I guess she was about to be.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” I said, my voice low because I didn’t want Zurie to think I was ruining her moment.
