Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Elena – One Week Later
Beep, beep, beep….
God, that sound again; it's so annoying.
"Don't worry, figlio , mamma won't leave us, she'll fight," Romeo whispers, and I screw my face up in confusion as a baby coos, and my heart flips when I realize who's baby....
My baby!
"I won't allow her to leave us, because if she leaves, then I have to, and I don't want you to be alone," he continues.
Oh God….
I try to move my hand, to open my eyes….
"It's been five weeks without her, figlio , a week without you knowing what her arms feel like, or having a name…a week since I left this room…."
My heart hurts at his words.
"Are you going to let me hold my grandson yet, Romeo?" my father asks, his voice suddenly echoing in the room.
Romeo snorts. "Not until my wife has had her turn. You know this…."
I hear a sigh. "I know, and I'll respect that, even if my wife and your mother don't. I just hope she remembers everything when she wakes up, and she will wake up, Romeo. She won't leave you and your son."
Pain laces my father's voice.
Remembers…remembers what?
My sister's dead eyes flash before me.
Oh yeah, I'm a killer…. No, no, it was self-defense; it was her or me, but I didn't choose either of us; I chose my son.
Son, we have a son….
I hear a little cry before the beeping in the room intensifies—my pulse racing.
"Shh, shh, I've got you," Romeo mutters as I feel a presence near me, and his voice sounds closer, "El… farfalla ?"
The beeping picks up again….
"Fuck, I'll go get the doctor," Papa panics before I hear a door open and close.
"El," I feel a hand squeeze mine, and he whispers, "Squeeze my hand, baby, please, tell me you're with me…."
I can hear the hope, the need in his voice.
"Come on, El, let me see those beautiful violet eyes…" he pleads.
Come on…. Those words, reminding me of the little boy I dreamt about…my son….
With all my strength, I squeeze Romeo's hand in mine, and he gasps. "That's it, farfalla , wake up, come on…."
Come on….
I screw my face and blink but squeeze my eyes tight at the light before blinking again, then opening them. I make eye contact with my favorite blue ones. They look so tired.
He tears up as he rasps, "Fuck me, you're a sight for sore eyes…."
I allow my tears to fall and choke, "I-I love y-you…."
He lets out a sob and leans down, placing his head into the crook of my neck. I move my hands, one to his head, the other to our son's small head.
"I've fucking missed you, El, so much," he rasps, his tears soaking my skin, and I thread my fingers into his hair, gripping him, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
I don't know how long we stay like this, but Romeo sits up a little when we hear a coo, and my eyes go to the little bundle in his arms wearing a blue onesie with clouds on.
My tears coat my cheeks, and Romeo smiles as he gently guides our son into my arms, then grabs his phone.
I hear several clicks of his camera, but I don't look up from the perfect baby in my arms.
"H-he's perfect," I croak, my throat dry but I ignore it and gently run my finger along his papa's nose.
Romeo gently sits on the edge of the bed, cupping our son's head, and then my cheek. I look at him to see he's smiling a little, his eyes wet.
"He doesn't have a name, farfalla ," he admits, and I nod, looking back at our son.
"Luca Romeo Russo after his uncles and father," I speak.
Romeo chuckles. "Leonardo and Antonio are both going to gloat."
I smile a little. "I'm just glad they have the same middle name."
He hums, his hand squeezing mine a little, and I look at him.
"You scared me, El. It's been five weeks," he whispers.
Five weeks….
My tears fall and I admit, "I'm a murderer…."
His grip tightens, his face hardening. "No, you're not. You're a kind soul with a heart of gold. You saved our son. She would have killed you, El, and Damian nearly succeeded."
I nod. "I-I remember turning and seeing him right behind me, after that everything is blank…."
Apart from my dreams, but I don't think he's ready to hear them yet.
He nods. "He grabbed the bat and hit you. You fell on your stomach, but thankfully, our boy was happy to stay in you for four more weeks." I sniffle and look down at the perfection in my arms. He speaks again, "I'm sorry, farfalla …." I look back at him with confusion, and he flinches. "Before our son was born last week, I hadn't been in this room, only standing outside for five minutes every night. I-I couldn't be in here knowing, knowing…."
His words trail off, and I whisper, "Knowing you w-were going to l-leave our son without a parent if I died…." He flinches again, and I ask, "What about now, though, Rome, n-now you've held him, l-looked after him?"
He swallows, looking at our son, and admits, "I'd still follow you." My tears fall, and he looks at me, his own shining. "I love our son; he's my everything, but you, Elena, you are my universe, and I wouldn't be able to breathe without you. I wouldn't be able to be the man you love or the father he needs if you're not here."
I nod, understanding. I don't like it, but I understand.
Leaning forward, he gently presses his lips to mine, and I lift my hand, gripping his head to keep him connected to me, needing to feel him as my tears fall.
He doesn't deepen our kiss, just presses his lips against mine, connecting us….
After a few minutes, the door opens, causing Romeo to pull back a little as a man in a white coat rushes in. He sighs when he sees me awake, while my mother follows with my father, and bursts into tears.
My father nods, emotions running across his features before he jokes, "Does this mean I can finally hold my grandson?"
I raise a brow at Romeo because he looks a little serious. My husband grins despite how tired he looks, and he confirms, "Not for at least a week. It's how long I got to hold him; she deserves the same."
Papa groans but has a big smile on his face. I look down, my eyes going to my son.
I'll never allow anyone to hurt him, even when he becomes the next Don, if that's what he chooses. I'll always stand by him and ensure he knows exactly how loved he is.
I feel Romeo's lips against my forehead, and I close my eyes. An image of my sister flutters through my mind.
I know what I did, and I know I didn't want her to die. I thought I'd knock her out, but I remember her head hitting the corner of my desk.
I'll never forgive myself for killing her, always having her blood on my hands. I just hope I can live with the guilt, knowing if I leave, so does my husband….