22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Serena
A fter the morning from hell, putting up with some slut hitting on my husband is the last thing I need. I think I shock Emilio when I take charge of the situation, but it’s important to stand up for myself. My mama didn't raise no bitch. If Nurse Holly wants to be a cunt, I'm going to treat her like one. Hopefully she now realizes that I will not stand by and allow her to disrespect me. Emilio keeps looking over at me in amazement, like he's never seen me before.
Once the nurse leaves the room, I get up on the table and into place for the ultrasound. I'm excited to see our baby.
We don't wait long before Dr. Riley walks in with a clipboard. He's a handsome man, around forty years old. Looks to be in good physical shape and has chiseled features, dark brown hair that's cut short, and a clean-shaven face. He looks like the kind of man I imagined myself with before all of this happened with Emilio.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Esposito," he greets us as he reads my chart. Apparently, Nurse Holly has fixed my last name to suit Emilio's demands.
The doctor looks at me with a warm smile but then sees Emilio glaring at him and fear flashes in his eyes. He nervously starts trying to find the baby with the ultrasound wand.
I always knew Gio would marry me off to someone, but in my mind, I always saw a clean-cut guy because it's what I thought I wanted. Now as I stare at this man, who by all accounts is a hot, eligible guy, I can't imagine being with someone who has a normal, respectable job.
I realize now that I'm made to be Emilio's queen.
Emilio bends over, putting his lips to my ears and whispering, “If you eye-fuck this doctor one more time, I'm going to slice his throat wide open and bleed him dry right here.”
My husband misunderstands why I’ve been staring at the doctor, and as my eyes go wide with surprise, I realize I better fix this before Dr. Riley ends up dead.
Reaching out and taking Emilio's hand, I hold it and shuffle on the table so we lock gazes. Finally saying the words I’ve longed to say for months. "I love you, husband."
Emilio looks shocked and his eyebrows furrow.
That's when the doctor lets us know he's found our baby. "Here we are Mr. and Mrs. Esposito. Here is your little one. Have you decided if you want to know if this is a girl or a boy?"
I look at my husband, who smiles and gives me a chin lift, letting me know that it's okay with him. "We would like to know, please," I tell the doctor.
"You are having a baby boy. Congratulations to you both." The doctor gives me a genuine smile and puts the wand away. After a few seconds, the machine prints out a line of sonogram photos that the doctor reaches over me to hand to my husband. He's purposefully avoiding me.
Emilio's eyes are suspiciously wet. He leans over and kisses me. "I love you, wife."
"Everything looks great, Mrs. Esposito. Get dressed and check out up front." Dr. Riley hurries out of the room, no doubt trying to get as far away from my husband as possible.
Once I stand up and fix my clothes, I am ready to walk out but feel a sting on my ass coupled with a loud slap. "Ow. What was that for?"
"That was for the way you were looking at the doctor. We are definitely getting a female doctor."
"Why, so she can try to fuck my husband like the whore nurse?"
"I think I need to take my wife home to give her something to suck on, calm her down."
Rolling my eyes, I allow him to have the last word only because his plan doesn't sound like a bad one.
Antonio brought me to the doctor's office, but now Emilio is here, he drives us home. I like it when it’s just the two of us. It feels normal, unlike the convoy and guards he makes me have when he isn’t around.
"So, tell me about what the Bridezilla did to stress you out today," he says, his hand resting on my thigh.
"The bride has been a brat the entire time. She's some rich socialite who thinks I'm below her. She treats me like a servant," I reply.
"It's kind of ironic, isn't it? You are in a more powerful position than she will ever be, but she has no idea. Maybe I should shoot her," he suggests in a completely humorless tone.
"Emilio, we aren't shooting my client. She's a spoiled, rich brat, but that doesn't deserve a death sentence," I insist.
"It does if she disrespects my queen," he retorts.
"The mother-in-law is equally as bad. She is doubling down on the bride's requests and thinks I'm just being difficult. She told me if her son and his fiancée want to change the color scheme, I should accommodate them. We’ve planned the entire wedding and now, within days of the event, they want to change the wedding colors. They don’t understand how changing one thing will affect everything else—the cake, the flowers, the table decorations.” I sigh in frustration. “It's impossible to do in the amount of time that I have left."
Being able to vent to my husband feels so freeing. Before Emilio came into my life, I would call Everly or Sam and vent, but this is much more intimate. And most importantly, he listens and doesn’t make fun of me.
"Tell her she has to move the date of the wedding if she changes the colors. It will take too much time and coordination, and the fee to you and all the other vendors will double," he suggests.
"I will, but I hate to disappoint people."
"And if that doesn't stop it, I'll just shoot them."