16. Mira
MIRA
“H e’s doing well today.” One of the nurses on the floor gave me a thumbs-up as I walked past the desk. They had moved him out of the ICU earlier in the week, which, of course, was a huge relief. He was getting better. It would take time, but he was moving in the right direction.
By now, they all knew me by sight. I liked to check in first thing in the morning then again before going home. “Cara Mia, you have so many more important things to think about. ” He weakly protested. Always, I reminded him that he was the most important thing.
It was amazing, really, how everything could change in the blink of an eye.
Just to see him sitting up in bed, watching the morning news, felt like a triumph.
This from the man whose work ethic and nonstop drive had formed so many of my own habits.
It was tough, remembering not to patronize him by fawning over something so simple. He hated that.
“Good morning,” I offered after knocking on the open door. “You’re looking great today.”
His face lit up, reminding me why I went out of my way to visit. “Mirabella.” He extended both hands and clasped mine tightly when I leaned down to kiss his cheek. “You know, you don’t need to check on your papa every morning. They are keeping me in one piece.”
He sounded so tired. I pretended not to notice as I took a seat. “I spoke to the team about getting you started with rehabilitation, but it will still be a couple of weeks until they think you’re strong enough for that. You get to extend your vacation a little longer.”
He rolled his eyes the way I knew he would. “Some vacation. I would much rather sit on the shore, in front of the water. Ideally, with a fishing pole in hand.”
“You’ll have plenty of time for that once you’re better. You’re going to take it easy from now on if I have to strap you down to a bed and force you to rest.”
As usual, I could only hold his attention for so long before the topic of conversation shifted to its normal setting. “How are things at work? Everything still going smoothly?”
“You mean since you asked me last night?” I folded my arms and gave him a stern look. “Papa, I’m starting to believe you don’t trust me.”
“No, of course, it has nothing to do with trust.” When I only watched and waited for more, he sighed and pushed aside the table positioned over his lap.
He turned down the volume on the television then set the remote aside.
“You don’t devote forty years of your life to a dream, then simply step aside and wash your hands of the whole thing.
With time, it will be easier for me to step back and leave it up to you. ”
I saw what he meant. It was childish to take his questions personally. “Everything is great. Clay has a knack for the business. He understands publicity and how to work the media. He’s a real asset.”
When his faint, paternal smile widened, I knew exactly what he was thinking and tried to brace myself for the inevitable. “And what about the two of you? Are you getting along well?”
Very well. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting to keep a straight face and give him a serious answer. “We’re getting along better than I expected at first. When we’re talking about work, everything‘s great. Professionally, we’re a good match.”
“And personally?”
A flush crept up over my neck and started flooding my cheeks. “Papa, you’re embarrassing me a little.”
“Forgive me,” he relented with a gentle sigh. “That’s not my intention. It’s only that I know how it is, learning about each other after you have already been married.”
“In theory, of course,” I added, waiting for his agreement. It never came. “Papa? What are you telling me?”
“It’s something I never shared with you. Perhaps I should have. It might have made everything easier for you.” His sigh was weak, fatigued. “I’ve made awkward mistakes, trust me. I always had the best intentions.”
“I believe you,” I said without taking time to think. Not that I needed to. I believed him.
“You see, your mama and I…” Another sigh as he rested his head on the pillows behind it. He was losing strength. “Our marriage was not exactly arranged, so to speak, but it was one of convenience.”
How the fuck had nobody told me? “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know?”
“Because I never felt like I needed to.” He waved a hand, letting it drop to the bed. “By the time you were born, we were very much in love, but it was the sort of love that grew over time.”
Of all times for him to spring this on me. I had a meeting scheduled in less than an hour, and all I wanted was to sit at his bedside and soak up every detail. “How did you end up married?”
“Your mama was my best friend’s sister.”
“Uncle Enrico,” I murmured.
He nodded. “This was back in Sicily, you understand. I had saved my money and was planning on going to California. Your mama wanted to go along with me. There was no future for her there, with parents who expected her to live at home and care for them. She felt trapped. As a favor to my friend, I agreed to marry her and bring her along with me as my wife.”
I thought I knew everything about my parents’ relationship, or at least as much as a parent wants their kid to know. For a while, all I could do was sit and sputter, trying to find something to say but deciding everything sounded stupid.
There was one question that mattered. The one thing I needed to know. “Did you really love each other?”
“Yes.” There wasn’t a second of hesitation.
His eyes shone as he nodded. “She was the one and only love of my life. She ruined me for all other women. It was something she used to tease me about,” he admitted, laughing to himself.
“It turned out to be true. No one could compare to her, so what was the sense of trying to meet someone new?”
His smile slipped, and something painful touched the corners of his eyes, crinkling them.
“If there is one thing I regret, it’s that we waited as long as we did to start our family.
She wanted to start right away, but I wanted us to be more established.
Perhaps if she had been younger, she would have made it through. But I suppose we’ll never know.”
Tears threatened to fill my eyes. I waited until I was sure they wouldn’t be a problem, then whispered, “I’m sorry. I’ve always felt like I should apologize.”
For the first time since I showed up this morning, he scowled. “Absolutely not. You have been the joy of my life.”
His joy, but not worthy of his company. I needed to let it go. If his heart attack had taught me one thing, it was the pointlessness of anger. It was a waste of time.
“And I hope…” he continued, “… you and your husband can find each other over time, the way your mama and I did.”
The man was determined to make my head explode this morning. “What?” I gasped, choking out a laugh.
“You have to admit, he has everything. He’s good-looking, in good health, he is educated and driven. No vices. Has he not treated you well?” He managed to stir up a little strength, sitting upright again.
I eased him back against the pillows, clicking my tongue to admonish him. “He has. Really.”
He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Do you think at least the two of you might be friends?” The hope in his voice was both sweet and a little heartbreaking. He wanted this so much.
My pulse picked up speed when I remembered the day we spent in bed before Papa woke up.
There was no reason for me to enjoy it so much aside from the sex, which was always enjoyable.
I would never have imagined myself being satisfied spending an entire day doing nothing but reading, watching movies, napping.
All it took was having the right company. “Maybe with time, we could be.”
“I thought so.” Pride rang out in his voice, and maybe a bit of smugness.
“That still doesn’t mean we’re going to fall in love.”
“Being in love is a wonderful thing.” He was smiling again, feeling good about himself now that he knew he’d made the right choice. “But friendship is the foundation of anything long-lasting. You have made me very happy today. I was worried I chose poorly for you.”
“Papa. You didn’t have to choose at all… but I understand why you did,” I concluded. It wasn’t easy to force the words out. I meant them, but there was still a lot of disappointment and disillusionment to contend with.
There was something else too. Something that had sort of floated around the fringes of my awareness all morning. A vague, sour feeling in my stomach which suddenly turned into nausea.
“Excuse me.” I hopped up from the chair and darted for the bathroom door, which I barely got closed before flying to the toilet.
Nausea clenched my stomach, and then I lost the toast and eggs I had for breakfast. It didn’t take long for the sensation to pass and for me to stand up to rinse my mouth and splash my face.
Dammit. I figured my stomach would settle down now that Papa was doing better. Instead, I was sick again this morning, the same way I’d felt all week…
Wait a second.
I shoved a trembling hand into my purse and grabbed my phone, pulling up the calendar app. When did I start my last period? A week before the wedding. And since then…
Leaning against the sink for support, I whispered, “No. No, that’s not right.” Yet the more I thought about it, the clearer things became. I took my placebo pills the week Papa was in the ICU. It had been a week since they transferred him to a regular floor.
No period.
Did I always take them at the same time every day? Had I missed a day? It was impossible to remember now. Everything had been so busy, traveling from place to place, juggling meetings and tours of the properties. I might have been sloppy.
And we had so much sex.
Oh fuck.
Pull. It. Together. Stress could affect a cycle, for sure. I was stressed to the hilt that first week after the heart attack. It had to be stress-related.
Still, after saying goodbye to Papa, I stopped by the pharmacy on my way into the office and picked up a test. I had to know for sure.
Clay hadn’t yet moved into Papa’s old office.
He’d been working out of his old office, wanting to wait until Papa’s health was better before swooping in to take over the space.
That meant I had Papa’s private restroom all to myself. I could stare at the stick with its two blue lines until my vision blurred.
Positive. No doubt about it.
I was pregnant, and I didn’t have the first clue how to feel.
Or how my husband would feel.