Chapter 23
Saturday, March 4, 2017
The brightness of the winter’s sun shone through the window between the gap in the curtains. I rubbed my tired, irritated eyes with the heels of my palms, groaning and stretching my legs. Dragging my hands down my face, I slowly opened my eyes, adjusting to the sunshine. My son kicked my bladder, and I rushed to hold myself between my legs, breathing through the discomfort and threat of pissing myself.
“Good morning to you, too,” I sarcastically greeted my son while rolling over onto my left side. I then waited a few breaths before leaving bed and heading into the bathroom.
Finished in the bathroom, I re-entered the bedroom and changed into the clothes picked out for me on what was normally my side of the bed. Before Dominic left, he selected outfits for me from our closet and arranged with his mother for her to set out my day’s outfits each night prior. He didn’t want me to risk falling down the closet steps, nor did he want me lifting a finger unless absolutely necessary.
Fine with me.
I adjusted the waistband of my leggings, smoothing out the fabric over my belly. After I finished dressing—putting on the oversized t-shirt—I secured my hair into a ponytail.
Stepping into my pink slippers designed to look like a pair of flip-flops, I stretched my lower back, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and faced another day without my king.
* * *
“Good afternoon, Miss. Wardman,” Luigi greeted, crossing paths with me in the foyer as he walked through the front doors for his shift.
Secretly, I was happy Dominic demoted him from his title as a soldier to cooking our meals and fulfilling minor requests like serving us said meals or cleaning the chamber after rather… Bloody fun sessions. The dirty, I’m-better-than-you-look was ingrained in my memory from our first encounter, and I carried no respect for him since, despite his attitude thawing toward me. I wasn’t sure if Dominic had done something that day or what, but Luigi did a 180. Didn’t mean I trusted him, though.
“Please,” I said, hiding my annoyance at his formality. “It’s Lilith, and good afternoon.” I faked a smile to keep the peace. Luigi smiled. Whether genuine or not was to be determined.
“Where are you off to?”
“We’re checking the mail,” Katrina answered, her mitten-covered hand in mine.
He gave a tight nod. “Enjoy your afternoon.” He walked away, heading off to start his shift.
Good riddance.
Letting Katrina open the door, we stepped outside into the chilly, dreary air. While she was bundled up to protect her from winter’s cold, it was refreshing to me. Regrettably, I chose a pair of leggings instead of shorts.
Thin patches of old snow crunched under our feet.
“When are my uncles coming home?”
Over the past couple of days, Katrina had asked about her uncles and why they weren’t here. That was impossible to answer considering I, too, had no clue as to when they were coming home. I remembered Dominic telling me no more than two weeks. It had already been ten days.
“I think in another four days,” I guessed. “We just have to be patient.”
“Where did they go?”
I didn’t want to lie to her, but what information I knew wasn’t exactly appropriate to explain to a nine-year-old.
“I don’t know, but it must be important.”
“Are they fighting the bad guys that tried to hurt us?”
A pang of guilt struck my heart. We had no choice that day but to break down all that chaos for her. Luckily she was surrounded with all the love and attention and comfort she needed. I hated she was in the crosshairs of those thug assholes.
“They are, honey.”
“Why does it take so long to get the bad guys?”
Talk about a complicated and complex answer. I searched for the words as we descended the driveway.
“It’s complicated. It depends on where the bad guys are and if they’re easy for your uncles to find.”
“You mean they hide?”
“Some do, yes.”
“Like hide and seek?”
I smiled at her analogy. Honestly, politics was the main reason bad guys escaped justice and accountability in this day and age; there were far too many limitations.
That was why we flipped off so-called politics and served our own retribution.
“Actually, that’s exactly what it’s like.”
“Nobody can hide from my uncles,” Katrina proudly stated.
I hid my smug smirk, stifling a chuckle. If you only knew…
“Damn right,” I agreed.
Michael and John were on guard duty. Certain people here I had grown more attached to versus the rest. Granted, all of them had been around since day one, but those two, in particular, I had developed stronger friendships with. I could always count on Michael and John.
They turned around to discover me and Katrina.
“Miss Wardman,” Michael acknowledged. “How can we help you?”
“We want the mail!” Katrina exclaimed, bringing a smile out of the rest of us.
Nodding once, Michael left his post to go to the mailbox. I stood near John, waiting. A breeze moved over my skin. This cool air was never not refreshing.
Looking back and forth between John and the end of the driveway, I contemplated asking him if he heard when Dominic and his men were due back home. But it was pointless. Dominic gave every man here strict orders to keep quiet. They weren’t going to break their word.
“How are you holding up?” John asked me out of the blue, walking toward me.
I shrugged my shoulder, maintaining focus on Michael as he looked through the thick stack of mail on his way back up the driveway. I let Katrina go help him.
“Best I can,” I said. “I just want them home.”
“We all do,” John expressed sympathetically, briefly putting his hand on my shoulder.
I swallowed away the worry his kind gesture triggered, smiling at the sight of Katrina talking Michael’s ear off.
“I just hope them getting Nico will put an end to all this bullshit,” I said.
Nico was the common denominator. Taking him out meant it would stop the weird encounters. Any future attack attempts. That made sense to me. We got Nico, and then we could take down everyone even remotely connected to him. Maybe then, sleep would find us much easier every night.
Katrina ran up to me with some mail in her hand. Michael held the rest of the stack of envelopes and had a small package under that same arm.
John nodded once and walked back to his post.
“Here you go,” Katrina said, holding up the mail.
I took it from her and thumbed through it. Junk mail for me. And nothing exciting for Dominic or our brothers.
“Thank you,” I told both Katrina and Michael. I held out my hand for Katrina to take.
“Did you need anything else?” Michael asked. He was one of the few who continually checked on me, especially when Dominic wasn’t home.
I shook my head. “I’m good.”
“I’ll go ahead and get these delivered then,” he said in reference to the mail. Either Michael or John had the daily task of handing out the mail to all on the property.
If my feet and hips weren’t as sore more often than not, I would’ve volunteered to do it just to give me something to do.
“Thanks, Michael,” I told him as he began walking further up the driveway. Katrina and I followed him but strayed onto the grass up ahead.
“Lulu, when is the baby coming?”
“You’ll have to wait until June.”
She grumbled under her breath, something about being impatient and it being too long of a wait. I hid my amusement, a slight smirk creeping on my lips, but my smirk quickly faded when thinking about how fast this pregnancy felt like it was going. I was about to hit week twenty-five. Only fifteen more weeks, give or take. Was it really that little left? It seemed as if just yesterday I found out I was pregnant.
Was I ready for this? Would I ever be?
* * *
Her gift rested in my hands. I brushed its leather with my thumb, sweeping over the bottom corner in a diagonal motion, almost mindlessly at this point as I stared at it. I had kept it tucked away, too emotionally weak to touch it. Until today. Until life became too much to handle, and I needed a healthy outlet.
Nadia needed to be here. My parents needed to be here. I needed them. Bianca just wasn’t suitable enough today. Her words and her wisdom weren’t what my heart needed. What my heart needed were the pages I poured my soul into. The pages of a sacred place I found solace in, where I could reach out to those that gave me strength. Hope.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I opened my journal to a new page, staring at its cream paper. The last time I wrote in this was on the night of Hector’s death. I was heartbroken over his loss, and I was struggling with the news and reaction to my pregnancy prior to news of his senseless murder.
My thoughts raced. The words were there, just jumbled. Adjusting in my gray power recliner in what would soon be my son’s bedroom, I kept staring at the blank pages, my pen in my hand. It killed me that I couldn’t talk to my parents and Nadia in real time. Written words had to do.
March 4, 2017
Dear journal,
It’s not fucking fair. Mom. Dad. Nadia. Thomas. You all should be here. Why did God need you so fucking badly? Didn’t he realize how your deaths would fuck up so many of us? It wasn’t their time! And it’s not Dominic’s time or Dino’s or Anthony’s or Angelo’s, so don’t you fucking think about it, God. You hear me? Leave. Them. Alone! They need to come home safe.
I need my brothers.
I need the love of my life. I need his smell. His touch. His taste. His laugh. His gorgeous eyes. I need to hear him call me by my pet name when he tucks me into bed. I need him to tell our son goodnight. I need his protection. His tenderness. Our son needs him, too.
This mission had to happen, but I don’t like it. The bad guys had to be stopped. Too many enemies have already taken too much. We can’t let any more gain any kind of upper hand. Look what happened in the past. No, they can’t get ahead. We can’t let them take anything else from us.
I don’t even know what to fucking say. It feels like I have nothing and everything to say all at once. I don’t know how to get the words out, even this way. It’s not the same. I don’t want to write letters to ghosts. I want to call them. Hug them. I’m going through so much without all of you, and I don’t know how I do it.
Mom, how did you survive pregnancy? How did you deal with your fears? All this discomfort? Did you also worry that you wouldn’t be cut out for this mothering thing? Because sometimes, I feel that way, like I don’t know if I can handle all the responsibility. I know that’s silly, but all of this has happened so fast, it feels like I haven’t been able to catch my breath yet. Literally.
Is Nadia keeping you company up there? I imagine you two are the best of friends. She would’ve made an amazing grandmother. Much better than the one I ended up stuck with. How about Dad; is he still crazy about you? Now, that was a stupid fucking question; of course, he is! The deep love and strong bond you both shared reminds me of the way me and Dominic are.
I love him so much. I can’t picture life without him, which is why I desperately want him home. If he’s here, I’ll know he’s safe. And alive. We still need to get everything ready for our baby. I can’t do that alone. Dominic’s so excited to be a daddy. I’ve dreamed of the moment he holds our son for the first time, and it’s always the most beautiful sight. It makes me teary just sitting here thinking about it.
Please Mom, Dad, Nadia, Thomas, and hell, even Hector… Please keep an eye on Dominic and our family. Shower them with your protection and strength. They need to come home.
For the love of fucking God.
L.M.W.
As I cried my few remaining tears, I closed the journal and tipped my head back against the headrest, eyes closed, taking it all in. Penning those words was a spiritual and emotional cleansing long overdue. I tuned in to my son’s movements, smiling. These past few weeks, I had thought more seriously about what to name him. I came up with a first and middle name, growing attached to them. I hoped Dominic would like my choice, too.
Dominic…
I missed him. Severely. This place was too quiet without him and our brothers. Bianca was also becoming restless with his absence. We both worried about him. We both wanted him and everyone here and safe ASAP.
Yawning, I stretched in my recliner, wondering what else I could do today to pass the time. The closer it got to Dominic being away for two weeks, the longer the days felt. Time moved slower than a slug.
I could play with Katrina.
Maybe soak in the tub.
Take a nap?
Yeah… A nap sounded wonderful. Last night, this pregnancy was hell on my back. My son decided it would be fun to make himself comfortable on my sciatic nerve. I ended up in tears from the pain and asked Bianca to bunk with me. She helped me find a position that eventually forced the baby to move, and then, he found entertainment in kicking my bladder.
It was a no-win situation, and I dreaded the worsening aches and pains as his birth approached.
Sighing, I pressed the button on the miniature remote with this chair to tuck the reclining piece back into place. Once safe, I put the remote in the built-in pocket on the side and carefully stood up. My lower back and hips ached under the pressure my son created the bigger he grew, the belly band I religiously wore no longer providing as good of relief. I needed to ask Julie if they had better bands on the market or if she had any more helpful tips to combat the aches and pains.
I picked up my journal, pen, and cell phone and made my way to the door. Maybe Bianca, Katrina, and I could have some kind of slumber party tonight. Yeah… That was a distraction all of us would enjoy. Katrina had been wanting to sing to the baby anyway. It was adorable.
When I opened the door, I immediately stopped, my hand frozen on the handle as I stared at the man standing in front of me, shaken. In a nicely pressed suit that was black as sin with his arms behind his back, he said my favorite word.
“ Bellissima .”