Chapter 26
I feel hungover. Like I threw one too many back at the end of a night, then topped it off with a shot. Except it’s only the sick-to-my-stomach part.
Since returning home a few days ago, whatever I got in Italy has been a constant pain in my ass. Initially, I thought it was a common cold, but even with all the medicine Marco Sr. has gotten for me, whatever this is won’t leave.
Footsteps nearing the kitchen catch my attention, and I look up in time to see Viviana enter. With a large smile and a pep in her step that I’m jealous of, she stops when she sees me. A frown takes over her happy expression, and I know where this conversation will go before it starts.
“Buongiorno, Amorina.”
I watch as she walks to the double doors that house the pantry and industrial refrigerators where she stores prepped meals. “Still feeling sick?”
As if by magic, or as if she’s spoken my symptoms into existence, I get nauseous and gag. “No,”
I answer her. “What gave you that idea?”
Viviana passes behind me with a large bowl covered with a cloth. Every morning, she bakes fresh pastries for Damiano and the men. Occasionally, I’ll have some, but she always makes rolls after that, which I devour.
I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth.
“Maybe you made a bebè in Italy, and he’s making you sick now.”
The only thing making me sick is her saying that every damn day
Laughter spills out with no hesitation. “That’s ridiculous. Nobody actually gets pregnant that fast after stopping birth control.”
I laugh again, only stopping when I turn in my chair and realize that Viviana is staring at me. The all-knowing expression on her face unnerves me. “It only takes one time. You and Signor Damiano don’t stop.”
I should be shocked, but it’s true. Any chance we have the opportunity, or if I’m up for it, we’re fucking. The man has the stamina of a twenty-two year old that just learned how to work his cock correctly.
Not that I’m complaining.
From my silence, Viviana chuckles. “He wasn’t with anyone for years before you.”
“I don’t care, Vivian–”
I stop when I understand what she means. Dark brown eyes meet mine and fill with amusement.
The older woman laughs at my ignorance. “Si, you understand now. All the energy. I’m surprised you weren’t pregnant sooner.”
We both chuckle. Playing coy, I cover my face, run my hands down, and then look at her. “Viviana, I’m not pregnant.”
Multiple facial expressions pass before she shrugs, turning back to the dough. A moment later, she sucks her teeth at me.
Though she’s older than Damiano, she gives me the vibes of an aunt. From the moment she met me in her kitchen during my first week here, she broke down whatever small walls I had against talking to people.
She also makes it easy to talk or listen to her.
We’re quiet for a while, Viviana focusing on the dough for whatever pastry she’s going to make, and me wondering if she could be right. I know that with Aldo, it took a lot longer to get pregnant because initially, I would still take my birth control, even though it would be late sometimes. With Damiano, I decided to stop independently– Which seems more idiotic by the day.
How will I know what a baby wants when I don’t even know what the fuck I want?
Instead of continuing our conversation about my symptoms, I look at Viviana working. “What are you making for them today?”
Viviana barely acknowledges me, and I know she’s focused on her task. In the past few months, I’ve repeatedly watched her make the same pastries, and I ask her what she’s doing each time. It keeps our conversations going and keeps me engaged when I want to check out mentally. If I bring up the weather, Viviana can talk about it forever. If I mention a headache or something that ails me, she has a million remedies I need to try.
No matter what I’m willing to open up to her about, she’s ready to give me more– Foolish or not.
“Sfogliatelle.”
I nod from my seat. “Do you need any help?”
“No,”
Viviana’s tone is sharp, “you’re growing our baby, you need to stay off your feet.”
The urge to roll my eyes is strong, but I resist. “If I’m pregnant, Viviana, staying off my feet got me here.”
A gasp escapes Viviana’s mouth. Her face is frozen in place for a long time as she stares at me, and then she bursts out laughing. It takes a moment for us to compose ourselves. ”True enough.”
Our attention is pulled away from each other when we hear footsteps. Though I can’t see the person, I know who it is from the long decisive strides and how their dress shoes echo off the tiled floor.
A moment later, Damiano rounds the corner of the kitchen. Dressed in black business suit pants with a white button up tucked precisely, I’m aware he left his suit jacket hanging on the bottom of the stairs’ rail to grab on his way out. I drink him in, taking in the few buttons of his shirt he left open and how his sleeves are rolled up to expose his tattoos. His eyes fall on me, and he briefly smiles before kissing me on the cheek. “I thought you ran away when I woke up, and you weren’t in bed.”
I smile. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Damiano turns into a mother hen. His hand lifts, and he checks my temperature as if he could get an accurate reading. “Are you still feeling sick? Do you need to see a Benicio?”
From behind Damiano, Viviana nods her head but doesn’t say anything.
I pull back from Damiano’s hand, looking him in the eye. “No.”
He frowns. “No, you’re not sick still, or you don’t need to see a Benicio? I can call him to the house, Bellissima.”
So many people caring for a slight cold is ridiculous. I shake my head. “Not necessary. I’ll have Marco take me to the store for medicine.”
He’s not convinced.
“More medicine?”
Damiano asks me, confused.
I glance at Viviana, who’s pretending that she’s not paying attention. “I have to get pads, too.”
Staring at me, unconvinced, Damiana nods his head in resignation. “Okay, but if you feel worse, let me know.”
Walking around the island, he lays a hand on Viviana’s shoulder, addressing her, “Mi faccia sapere?”
Viviana nods, still working on the pastries. “Si, Signor Damiano.”
I finally rolled my eyes. “It’s a tiny cold, okay? I’ll be fine.”
On cue, I get a whiff of Damiano’s cologne and can’t suppress the audible gag that exits my mouth, ending with a wet-sounding belch.
If I didn’t feel a little better, I would be mortified. The incessant nausea that has plagued me hasn’t let up, so the relief is welcome. Breathing easier, I exhale and realize how quiet the kitchen is. My eyes, which I hadn’t noticed were closed, open, and I sense Viviana and Damiano looking at me before I see it. Their expressions betray they weren’t expecting that, and I cover my embarrassment.
“It must have been the ginger tea,”
I admit, boldly lying.
Next to me, Damiano shakes his head, but I catch the smile. “Well, I can’t stay, Bellissima.”
He leans in to kiss me, then halts. A second later, his lips press against my forehead. “Remember, if you need a docto-”
“Call you or Gio right away.”
An expression crosses Damiano’s face, but he hides it quickly. “Call me.”
“If you’re busy?”
I counter.
Damiano doesn’t give me a chance to react. His hand slides against my nape, gripping it in a tight vise, and then his lips are on mine. My yelp of surprise that was milli-seconds from escaping is swallowed by his tongue that invades my mouth, leaving me to only respond to his kiss. It takes nothing for my nauseous traitor body to melt into his dominating touch. As he takes control, I follow his lead, the disruptive sound of our kisses deafening me to the realization that Viviana is less than five feet away until he pulls away.
Brown eyes that are full of a promise I wish we could explore now stare at me. Damiano kisses me one last time. “I’m never too busy for you, Bellissima.”
He relaxes his grip on me, stepping back. With an unabashed smirk, he tells Viviana bye and heads out. As usual, I’m left to pick up the mental pieces of the storm that Damiano caused internally. It’s not until I see Viviana staring at me with an amused look that I frown.
“What?”
She chuckles. “I can get those tests later today if you don’t want Marco to take you to the store.”
Finally, I roll my eyes at the older woman. “Shut Up. Just get the damned tests.”
We both laugh, but I shake my head as if I can shake away the trepidation that spreads throughout me.
****
Fuck.
I should be happy – Should be filled with enthusiasm or an emotion that invokes happiness, but I’m not. Instead, dread takes over me as I stare down at the two lines on the pregnancy test. One line is faint but obviously there. The other is a darker pink that confirms things I’m not sure I’m ready for.
It’s still a little early. The results could be wrong or a fluke, but my body tells me I know exactly what it is.
I’m pregnant.
It’s not the first time I’ve found myself in this position, but it might as well be. It feels like my life is coming to an end.
This is what you wanted, isn’t it?
I’ve been having the same symptoms as the first time. It started with smells irritating me, making me gag, or triggering me to want to throw up. Next, my extremely sensitive breasts. They are so sensitive that I debated one day not wearing a bra, and my boobs already look fuller than usual. Lastly, are the headaches that are plaguing me. I have headaches like any other person, but every day isn’t something I’m used to.
It mirrors all those years ago when Aldo had pushed a pregnancy test into my hand and urged me to take it. At my young age, I had been fully aware of what having sex meant or what it could lead to, but I had been thinking of sexually transmitted diseases rather than pregnancy.
On the other hand, he had made it very clear that I would have his baby.
At sixteen, the positive test had felt like my life had ended. I’d been so scared to tell my parents. Not because I cared what they thought of me– I loved my parents- but because I worried that Gaia would overhear them arguing about it, and I would have to explain to my baby sister what had happened.
After Apollo, my entire life revolved around my baby sister and taking care of us both. I felt like bringing something else into our world I had to care for was going to be impossible – That because the baby was mine, I would have a duty to care for it more, or I would love it more than Gaia, and my baby sister would respond horribly.
I cried so much that Aldo, surprisingly patient then, promised to take care of me and Gaia regardless of what happened. He had sworn that me having his baby only made him love me more and that he was going to do everything he could to make sure I wanted for nothing. He had promised me his love and life if he didn’t come through.
Only his life was left.
“Fuck.”
I mutter under my breath.
My eyes dart nervously toward the test hanging over me like a shadow of doom. I took them both at the same time. Two lines popped up immediately on one, but I’m still waiting for the digital test to determine my future in actual legible words, even though I’m sure what it’s going to say.
When Viviana snuck the bag in to me yesterday morning, I looked at it like it was a bomb. Despite knowing that there was a high probability I could get pregnant after stopping my birth control, the finality of it isn’t settling as smoothly.
Again, I look at the test in defeat. I thought it would take longer to get pregnant. I figured the chances of it happening so quickly would be slim to none. I had been with Aldo for a couple of years before I got pregnant, and I convinced myself that it would be the same with Damiano.
I look down at the digital test.
Pregnant.
I shake my head, resigned to my defeat. “Welp.”
I move to toss the tests in the trash, then stop. I’m going to have to tell Damiano. This is something that concerns him, right? Aldo stood beside me the entire time while we waited for the results. This morning, I’d snuck into the bathroom when I couldn’t hold my urine anymore, then had the stroke of genius idea to take the tests.
I don’t know how I’m going to tell him, either. Neither of us are sentimental people. Though we’ve undoubtedly grown closer, I feel like if I do something magnanimous, it will be overlooked or laughed at, but if I don’t tell him, he’ll be angry. With how I feel right now, I doubt I can handle being laughed at or even chastised.
There’s the possibility that Damiano could be excited about a baby.
Sure, this was a botched plan, and we agreed to this, but at the same time, the more he’s talked about the potential of a baby, the more he’s seemed— Happy? Excited?
I’m not sure how I would describe it.
Absolved?
He definitely won’t be not crushed by the reality of it.
I need a drink.
“Bellissima?”
Startled, I turn to see Damiano in the bathroom doorway. Still in his pajama pants that are low on his hips, he looks at me in question as he takes me in while rubbing his eyes. He seems to be half asleep, though I know from experience that can change in an instant.
He steps in more, crowding my senses as his frame takes over the large bathroom that feels shrunken. I try to ignore the pulse in my core when I take in his tattooed body, especially when my heart is beating just as fast. “Why are you awake? Are you okay?”
No, I'm not okay!
I nod as he moves closer, forcing me to step back reactively. My eyes guiltily fall on the two tests on the counter, and he follows my line of vision. We’re both silent as he stares at the tests for the longest. His facial features don’t betray emotion or give off any sense of his thinking.
After what feels like forever, he looks at me. His expression is still unreadable. “Is this what I think it is? Are you-?”
“Pregnant?”
I finish before he can say anything. “Yes, I guess.”
He frowns. “You guess?”
Yup.
I shrug. “I mean, it could be wrong, right?”
Damiano scoffs. “I don’t know. I’ve never taken a pregnancy test before.”
I stare up at him, unamused by the sardonic joke. “I was sure you’d have experience from your philandering days.”
“Philandering?”
His eyebrow quirks up, and a smirk spreads on his face, highlighting his exhaustion but not diminishing his magnetism.
“Yes, the thing that all young men do.”
“Philander?”
He repeats.
Casually, I nod, and we both grow quiet. It takes a second for things to settle, then Damiano’s face finally expresses his feelings. The instant dread and uncontrollable worry are apparent to me when he looks back down at the tests.
I sigh, aware of what’s coming next. “You weren’t supposed to see. You normally don’t get up until six at least.”
He moves closer to look at the test before his eyes meet mine. “You weren’t going to tell me?”
The damning tone shocks me a little, but I see where he’s coming from. I would be confused if I found him in the bathroom this early, and he looked guilty. “Yes, I have to tell you to even get to the damn doctor. I just –”
My words falter, failing me for a second as my brain scrambles to catch up. “I had to pee, then remembered the tests. I figured I’d take them because I’ve been sick longer than a normal cold should last.”
I sound nervous and scared for the first time in a long time. I am nervous and scared. Yes, I know what happens when unprotected sex occurs, but did I expect or want it to happen this soon?
No.
“How long have you been sick? You seem fine by the time I get home.”
I attempt calculating but give up. “Two or three weeks– Maybe more.”
Damiano nods. He reaches out and takes my hand. “It’s okay. I’ll text Benicio, and he’ll have us come by when his office opens.”
All I can do is nod and look back at the tests. A part of me wishes that I had waited, that I wasn’t hasty and tested so quickly this morning. I’m not sure why. This wouldn’t change much. Since we have returned, there has been far too much to catch up on for my wants to fall into place right away, and I understand. An empire compared to a wife’s wants are magnanimous. Going back to school means very little when he’s stomping out mild fires from being gone– Adding a baby to the mix means my wants will be on hold longer.
“Hey.”
Gently, fingers touch my chin, and Damiano looks down at me. “It’s not the end of the world, Bellissima.”
I release a chuckle-like scoff. “Are you sure about that?”
“Having a baby is a blessing.”
Still holding my chin, he leans in and kisses me. His lips linger long enough to make a smacking noise when he releases me. “Having my baby is triple the blessing.”
Despite my hesitant feelings about the pregnancy, I feel my lips quirk upward in a slight smile. “If you say so.” I tease.
Even through the tiresome emotions that I’m feeling, Damiano nods confidently. “I do say so.”
His thumb runs across my bottom lip, slowly placating me to accept the pregnancy. “So, you’ve graced many women with the opportunity to carry your blessing?”
I tease him.
It’s a stupid question that shouldn't make me anxious for a response, but I look up at my husband and hope he gives me the answer I’m hoping for.
“What do you want to hear, Bellissima? That you are the only woman that I have and ever will fuck raw? That from the instant I saw you in my bar, I knew that I wouldn’t rest until I was between your thighs?”
My eyebrows rise, amused. “Something like that would work.”
He chuckles. “Well, it’s the truth.”
I take his thumb between my lips and suck for a second, before I bite down hard enough to make him wince but not cause any real pain. “So, now that I’m more than likely pregnant and all, does that mean you’re going to start fucking me less?”
Damiano moves in to encase my body against the counter, crowding me. He chuckles. “Now that I know your body listens and does what I want, you are far more desirable.”
When he leans in to touch his lips to mine, I turn my head on purpose. “Desirable, huh?”
I look back at him. “Growing a baby is serious business. I’m going to need my rest.”
I don’t believe I’m teasing him about the pregnancy when I’m still uncertain about it. I know I’m putting up a brave face right now, but I will have to face my warring thoughts when I'm alone.
“Then rest. I have some business to take care of.”
Allowing Damiano to lead me out of the bathroom, I don’t bother glancing back at the two tests still on the counter. My attention turns to the welcoming and soft bed, which I’m about to crash on as if there’s no tomorrow.