Vincenzo's Lover

Eight

-Mia-

Daddy?

Now the word 'daddy' can mean lots of things to different people.

It can be used in a dirty way between two people who are hormonal as a sign of dominance. Or it can be used in a tone for when you want something, for example when Hilary in The Fresh Prince of Bel Air asks Phillip for money or has to tell him bad news about his credit card.

But in this instance it wasn't either or those.

The word came from a child's mouth. It was loud and happy. The voice seemed happy and excited. It was higher pitched as well so I was guessing this person was a girl.

Both of our heads snapped towards the sound to see a little girl running towards the bed.

Vincenzo immediately rolled off me, scooping up the young girl and spinning her around as she giggled. I sat up, surprised. The girl was small and slightly chubby, and had curly light brown hair. She was wearing a light pink leggings and a white unicorn shirt. Vincenzo was grinning, nuzzling her to his chest then kissing her cheek. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" He asked between kisses as she laughed, her hands on his head.

What did this mean? I was confused. Was this his child? Why was she calling him daddy? All the answers were in my questions but I wasn't thinking clearly enough to piece them together. I was shocked and confused. The guy clearly still had feelings for me. Was he with someone else?

Another voice spoke, "Look, I need you to take her for the-what the hell?"

When I saw who was at the door, my jaw dropped.

It was that woman. The same woman who was on top of him that day, bouncing on his crotch. She was wearing the same maid's outfit that I had on. Her hair was in a ponytail and she had heavy makeup on.

"You."

"You."

I was freaking pissed. Too much was happening at once. What was she doing here?

I got off the bed, now standing with my arms folded as I glared at her, attempting not to lash out. She too was glaring at me, her hands in fists. "Explain, Vincenzo." I wasn't looking at him but I could feel his stare on me.

"Both of you calm down," he started, holding the child on his hip. The woman scowled, scoffing. "What is this trash doing in here, Vincenzo? Did my daughter walk in on you screwing around with her?" This mother. .

"Daughter?" I blurted out, ignoring her insult. I looked at the child. She looked just like him. Besides the hair and a few facial features, they had much common. My face dropped as I came to realisation as to what this was. Vincenzo parted his lips, about to say something as he knew I was catching on.

"This is your child." I shook my head, storming out the room, pushing past the woman.

That cute little girl was his child. His freaking child. That cheating woman was her mother. HER MOTHER!

I slammed the door shut as I left the house, angrily. I was upset, confused and angry. Why was I angry? It wasn't the child's fault and I knew that. It just happened; and I knew when. She was little and must of been only two or three. That's how long it had been since I had left her father.

Father. Vincenzo was a father.

We always planned to have children of our own. The conversation often came up. He wanted lots of kids; I knew that. Ten, he said the first time. Then it went down to eight, next five minimum. We were meant to have children together. Was that why I was angry? No. I wasn't sure.