9. Building a Legacy #2
I kissed the top of her head slowly while my own eyes burned.
“You’re really carrying my baby,” I whispered.
Camilla laughed shakily against my chest. “Please don’t start acting cocky.”
“Too late.”
She smacked my chest weakly, making me grin harder.
“Millie Millz,” I whispered honestly, “I don’t even got words for how happy I am.”
And I meant that shit. This felt like grace.
That night, I returned Justin McNeil’s call from the Democratic Party of Crestwood.
“Mr. McNeil, my sincerest apologies for the delay, as I was evaluating the opportunity. I accept the Democratic Party’s nomination.”
A week later, Camilla and I sat inside a downtown political consulting office while our entire damn family crowded around us like we were preparing for war instead of a campaign announcement.
X and Chanel looked proud. Zay and YaYa were hosting a celebratory dinner at their massive ass house, and my dad sat with all of the grandkids looking proud.
Genesis and the twins, Amara and Aniyah, wore their prettiest church dresses.
AJ couldn’t get home with his practice schedule, but JoJo facetimed him in.
Even my baby girl, Jazzy, drove down and was talking about anime with Mir.
Everybody was talking over each other while a young campaign assistant looked terrified, trying to organize paperwork.
“Okay,” the woman said carefully. “Mr. Davis, before we formally announce your candidacy, there are disclosure conversations we need to have.”
I leaned back slightly in the chair.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” another man answered smoothly as he entered the room, “we control the narrative before somebody else does.”
There goes the campaign manager.
Matthew Reed. He was in his mid-forties. Had on a sharp suit and looked serious as fuck. He shook my hand firmly before sitting across from me.
“You’ve got a powerful story,” Matthew continued. “Wrongful incarceration. Community roots. Justice reform. Family values.” He nodded toward Camilla beside me. “People already emotionally connect to you.”
Camilla squeezed my hand beneath the table quietly.
“But,” Matthew continued carefully, “we need to get ahead of anything that could become a controversy.”
Here we go. I leaned back slightly.
“Besides my time inside, which I was exonerated of, and my mother’s involvement in my wrongful conviction, what are you saying?”
“Be ready for reporters to look for your mom.”
X subtly looked at Zay. We all had the same stories. She fled from guilt and shame, and no one could find her. But everyone except for the kids and my dad knew where she was.
“You had a record before your twenty-four years inside.”
“Yup, and I disclosed that to the party already.”
“We know.” Matthew nodded calmly. “Actually, your honesty about your past may help more than hurt.”
That surprised me slightly.
“You admit what you did before prison,” Matthew continued. “You separate that from the wrongful conviction. You discuss rehabilitation, education, redemption.” He shrugged slightly. “Voters love growth.”
Zay muttered under his breath, “White folks love redemption stories when it’s profitable.”
Kenya elbowed him immediately.
“What?” he whispered innocently.
Matthew pretended not to hear him. “Now,” Matthew continued, flipping through paperwork, “are there any major life updates we should strategically prepare for?”
The room got quiet immediately. Camilla looked at me.
Then, finally, I made the announcement that I was hoping we would save for dinner tonight.
“We’re having a baby.”
“Oh, my GOD!” Chanel screamed.
YaYa started crying immediately.
My dad shouted, “Praise God.”
I noticed that JoJo and Jazzy looked a bit uncomfortable. I filed it away in my mind to have a one-on-one conversation with them about the news. X dapped me up, and even Matthew looked stunned for half a second.
Camilla laughed through tears beside me while my nieces practically launched themselves across the room, hugging us both.
Since this whole mayor conversation started, everything clicked.
Not politics, although to me, politics were just like the streets.
You had to study it like a chessboard. You give a little to get a little, and you have to call in debts owed and sometimes wage war for a better life for your community.
If I won, this was legacy. Everything I had been through up until this point led me to this moment.
Matthew recovered quickly; apparently, campaign managers lacked normal emotional reactions.
“Well,” he said slowly, “that actually changes things.”
I frowned slightly. “How.”
He exchanged a look with another consultant before speaking carefully.
“If you’re serious about running–” His eyes moved between Camilla and me. “A marriage announcement alongside the campaign launch would create a very strong public narrative.”
Camilla blinked as if she were offended. “Are you saying we should get married for politics?”
“No,” Matthew corrected smoothly. “I’m saying people respond to family, stability, and legacy.
” He leaned forward slightly. “And honestly? The story sells itself. What folks will not respond well to is folks playing house with no commitment. But this friends-to-lovers story where childhood sweethearts reconnect is genius. It will tell your supporters that you’re reunited after wrongful incarceration and now you’re a blended family with a baby on the way.
Even I had to admit it sounded cinematic when he said it out loud.
Camilla looked overwhelmed beside me. “I don’t like the idea of someone else speeding up our timeline, Jare, and I don’t want a courthouse wedding,” she admitted quietly.
I had to hold my tongue, recognizing that this conversation needed to happen in private.
But I had to admit Milla’s hesitation hurt a bit.
We’ve loved each other for half our lives.
While we never spent much time discussing marriage, I always assumed that what was understood didn’t need to be explained.
But looking at her face, my baby seemed fearful.
I looked at her immediately. “Milla.”
“No, seriously,” she continued, emotional now. “I waited twenty-four years for you. I’m not sneaking into any courthouse in a pantsuit.”
That made everybody laugh. I couldn’t stop staring at her. Because somewhere along the way, this stopped feeling like a strategy. I reached for her hand slowly.
“Nah,” I murmured, pulling her closer beside me. “If I marry you, Millie Millz.” I kissed her temple softly. “The whole damn city gon’ know how much I love my wife.”