Chapter 21
ISLA
I couldn’t be this close to Ciro. My skin was in a constant state of tingling and begging. My body and heart were betraying me left and right. Had they forgotten the pain and agony we’d suffered last year, especially during my pregnancy?
Eight months of tears.
Eight months of emptiness.
Eight months of dreams that would never come true.
When Penelope Giovanna had made her grand entrance into the world too early, I’d never been so frightened in my life.
Placenta previa nearly killed us both.
If I’d gotten proper prenatal care, we would’ve known the dangers early on. But I hadn’t had health insurance and had been too embarrassed to go to social services. My pride had gotten in the way of my child’s well-being and all these months later, I still felt a tremendous amount of guilt.
The morning of her birth, I woke up with cramps and severe bleeding. I had driven myself to the hospital because my sister wouldn’t answer her door when I banged on it, crying for help.
I’d gone into premature labor and had no one to help me. As if that wasn’t enough, the umbilical cord had been wrapped around my lovebug’s neck. If it weren’t for the emergency C-section, I would’ve lost her.
My chest tightened as I recalled how I’d sobbed when they rushed her to the NICU. They hadn’t even shown her to me. I’d cried out to God, wishing Ciro was by my side, then feared my baby’s father might not ever know her if she died.
The scare of my life hadn’t been enough to make me call Ciro to announce he had a daughter. No amount of guilt I carried could convince me to tell him. Protecting my daughter and her heart had been my priority.
My affliction continued each month as I watched Pippa grow and develop, and her eyes turned brown like his, which seemed like an evil joke. I would be forced to see him every day in my daughter’s eyes—the man I loved fervently with all my heart and soul. The daily reminder tormented me.
Still, I hadn’t changed my mind about hiding Pippa’s existence, and now he sat a couple of feet away from me.
It didn’t matter that Ciro appeared out of the blue like an answer to my prayers, after the many months, I’d struggled to be a mother and provider. We’d been doing fine without him. I needed to remember I was strong enough to be a single mom and keep myself closed off, staying firm in my resolve.
Pippa was my priority.
Ciro was my past.
I could do this. I had to keep reminding myself I didn’t need him. Then I needed to believe it.
Paolo pulled the car along the curb in front of Alba’s place.
This was it.
“When I get in there, I’ll need to feed her. So just wait in the car and give me half an hour.” I stared out the window, waiting for a reply. When I didn’t get one, I turned toward him. “Ciro? Did you hear me?”
“I’m going in with you.”
“I only need thirty minutes to feed her.”
“I said, I’m going in with you.” He locked his unwavering gaze to mine. “I’ll be honest. I’m afraid you’ll take her and run out the back door or something.”
I laughed nervously. “You can’t be serious. I would never do that. Go on the run with a baby?” I laughed some more. “I’d never do that.”
“Really?” Ciro didn’t appear amused. “And how would that be any different than keeping her a secret from me?”
The blow hit me hard. The truth in his statement shredded me. Tears pooled in my eyes as I fought a sob building in my chest.
The contempt in his words, the grief on his face, it was too much. I looked away, breathing in deeply, and dried my eyes on my sleeve. The guilt I had tried to bury floated to the surface, leaving me raw and bruised.
“You never wanted kids,” I whispered, resentfully. “Why would I think you’d want Pippa? I was protecting her from heartache. From a father who would keep her at a distance and only send money in place of his love.”
“It wasn’t your call to make. She is physically here. She isn’t a hope for the future or dream. She’s real!” He slammed his hand on the seat in front of him.
I flinched, my heart racing.
Ciro grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. Our noses were practically touching. “Don’t you understand? She’s real. I should’ve been with you every step of the way. Christ, Isla… I will never get that time back.”
I shook my head as the floodgates blew open. My ears had to be deceiving me. This wasn’t the man who wore an iron mask, keeping his feelings hidden. I didn’t know this man who seemed genuinely hurt and grieved.
The realization of my betrayal fractured my soul. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t look at him, so I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I’m going inside with you,” he repeated calmly.
I nodded, trying to pull my arm away, but he wouldn’t release it.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
I shook my head. I couldn’t. Not now, maybe not ever. “No. Just let me go. Please.”
He released my arm and cupped my face. Tenderly, he stroked my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his warm breath on my lips. I wanted to melt into his touch, into him, but I wouldn’t let myself.
He had shattered my heart and I had betrayed him.
We were two broken people who shared a child. Pippa bound us together for life. We needed to somehow be amicable for her.
“Look at me, Isla,” he demanded, again. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
“You have every right to be upset.” I found the strength to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
His lips moved closer to mine.
“No.” I pulled out of his grasp. “We can’t.”
“Don’t push me away. I came for you. I won’t leave without you.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you really want me. You just don’t like to lose. Now you know about Pippa, and she’s changed the game.”
“Now you’re calling me a liar. I’m not playing games. I came here for you! I fucking missed you every second of every day.”
“Really? Then why did it take you so long to find me? Answer me that. I didn’t disappear off the face of the earth. I didn’t assume a new identity. If you missed me that much, you would’ve come for me sooner.” Jesus, we couldn’t be civilized for one minute.
“You’re impossible,” he hissed.
“Enough. This isn’t about us, not that there is an us.”
“Figlio di puttana,” he quietly spat motherfucker as if I couldn’t hear him.
“And no cursing around Pippa, not even in Italian.” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just go inside to see her.” I opened the door and slammed it shut, then stalked to the door and knocked.
I didn’t hear Ciro behind me, which was odd, so I turned to see where he was at. What I found blew my mind. He was shirtless, digging through a tote bag in the trunk. My mouth went dry. His body was just as I remembered. Tan. Magnificently sculpted.
In typical fashion, Ciro wanted to make a perfect first impression for our daughter. Our daughter. The sound of it warmed me and made me sad all at once. She was ours, but we’d never be a real family.
“Damn, that’s quite a view.” Alba snickered behind me, and I whirled around to face her. “Oh my God. Honey, are you okay?” She wrapped her arms around me. “You’ve been crying.”
“We keep arguing. I’m scared, Alba,” I told her honestly.
“Why?”
“I’m scared he’ll take her from me,” I whispered.
Alba pulled back. “Do you really believe he’ll do that?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “If I don’t do what he wants, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“Jesus.”
Pippa cooed inside. I went in and scooped her into my arms.
“My Pippa.” I peppered kisses all over her sweet face. “Mommy missed you like crazy, lovebug.” Her drooling smile melted my heart. She whimpered in the next breath, smacking her lips and wiggling with agitation.
“She’s starving,” Alba said. “Hi. I’m Alba. Come in.”
I turned around.
Ciro was frozen at the door, his dark gaze was locked on Pippa.
“Come on, she doesn’t bite,” Alba said in her usual snarky tone.
“Thank you,” Ciro replied.
Pippa started to fuss and my breasts responded with a painful ache. I wondered if I should nurse her in front of him. It was a stupid thought. Breastfeeding was a natural way to feed my baby and not sexual.
I sat on the sofa, cradling Pippa. Her legs kicked wildly in anticipation. “Okay,” I cooed as I lifted my T-shirt and unhooked my bra. Pippa latched on like a pro, and relief overcame me. My sweet baby, I’d missed her terribly.
I glanced at Ciro. The poor guy looked nervous as hell. “Come sit by me.” I patted the spot next to me.
He nodded and settled in close. It was closer than I preferred, but I didn’t object. Several minutes passed as Ciro stared in awe at his daughter. He was never a kid person. I was sure he didn’t have a clue what to do.
“You can touch her,” I told him in a gentle voice.
“Um…”
I took his hand, trying to ignore the zing that shot through me, and moved it to Pippa’s little pajama-covered foot. “This is her foot.” I smiled, unable to take my eyes off Ciro’s handsome profile.
“It’s so small.” Ciro touched her foot, holding it in his hand. Pippa turned toward him but stayed latched on to my nipple. It was like she hadn’t noticed him there before. “Those eyes.”
“They’re yours.” I ran my index finger across her temple like I had thousands of times before, mesmerized by her just as Ciro was doing.
Thousands of times rang in my head, amping up the regret I carried.
“She’s perfect,” he said on a breath, touching his fingers to Pippa’s so tenderly, and then he kissed her hand.
I couldn’t breathe. One by one, tears rained down my face. Nothing about this moment, the moment Ciro met his daughter, played out the way I had imagined. I couldn’t breathe…
“Alba,” I cried. “Take her.” I removed Pippa from my breast, handed her to Alba, and ran into the bathroom.
“Isla, wait,” Ciro called as I closed the door and locked it.
I leaned against the door, sliding down to the floor and onto my ass. I sobbed into my hands.
Seeing them together was too much. How could I do this to them?