Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
S AINT
It’s already evening. I spent all of last night and most of today trying to come up with some way to fix this.
If it’s even fixable.
The house is too quiet. Too still and sucked of life that it pushes into my chest. I haven’t slept since she left. Since Christian told me she was with Jacquetta and asked me about a hundred questions. All of which I ignored.
I sit in the foyer, my head slumped in my hands. Every so often, my gaze flickers between the clock and the door. She has to come home soon, right? They all do. They can’t stay away any longer.
She belongs here.
The kids belong here.
Our baby belongs here.
With me.
Not in some house where I’m not. But here with me. Filling the house with sounds of laughter and conversation. Making it feel like home .
My hand curls into a fist.
The clock chimes, and I glare at it.
I want the house filled with warmth and happiness. I want the kids here. I want this baby. More than anything, I want Emerald.
But fixing what I broke? I don’t even know how to begin putting that right, and the thought has dread swimming through me.
I need Emerald. It’s not a want anymore. She’s wormed her way so completely into my life that I can’t get her out of my head if last night’s fitful sleep is any indication. The smell of her shampoo lingering on the pillow haunted me, the pain in her voice running through my mind on repeat.
My heart races in my chest, and I rub at it to displace the feeling of helplessness, that uncomfortable sensation that feels like someone’s wrapped barbed wire around my heart and pulled it tight.
The door creaks open, and I leap up.
Jaspar and Giulietta race into the house. The moment both of them spot me standing awkwardly, they launch at me, wrapping their arms around my legs as they giggle and talk a mile a minute about the sleepover they had. And something warm seeps through me at the thought that at least Jaspar is no longer mad at me.
My eyes slip shut as I bend down to hug them properly, relishing in the comfort that spreads from them to me. Thawing that dead thing in my chest a little more. Milena gives a brief wave before heading up the stairs and taking the kids with her.
I stand absolutely still as I stare, waiting for Emerald to walk through the door.
One beat. Then another. Then another. And fear roots deep inside me.
She’s not coming.
I take a step but freeze when Emerald comes in, lugging a bag that looks to contain her wedding dress. She looks pale and exhausted. And yet, she still knocks the breath out of me.
My body moves without thinking, and I take the bag from her.
She avoids my gaze and moves past me into the house and up the stairs. I watch and let out a sigh of relief and dread, all at once.
Letting her walk out of my life isn’t an option. I need to show her I can do this. I need to prove to myself that I can do it. Because losing Emerald isn’t a possibility anymore.
I swallow and move up the stairs to check on the kids.
Giulietta hugs me again, and I hug her tightly back before she climbs onto her bed to play, her teddy bear family surrounding her. After a quick check-in with Milena and Jaspar, I slowly make my way down the hall. It feels like I’m wading through sludge, each step harder than the one before.
I push the door open and scan the room. I don’t know if she’s staying or leaving, and my heart drops like an out-of-control rollercoaster at the thought of it.
“Emerald?”
She emerges from the bathroom.
“Can we talk?”
“About what, Saint? Pretty sure we said it all already.”
Taking the few steps between us, I’m standing before her. “No. We didn’t.” My voice cracks slightly, and I clear my throat. “Just one conversation…”
Her eyes sweep over my face before she nods. “Fine.”
My chest expands slightly, and I nod to the bed before dragging a hand down the front of my face, feeling the two days’ worth of stubble. “Why did you keep it a secret, Em? Why did you keep the baby a secret?”
I can’t read the emotion in her eyes, but I can see the fresh sheen of tears. And the dead lump where my heart should be squeezes painfully. My hand twitches to reach out to her. Cup her cheek and tell her it’s going to be fine. But I don’t. Not yet.
She shrugs.
I look deep into her gaze. “I just want to understand.”
“I was scared, okay?”
Her words twist like a knife. “Of me?”
“It wasn’t…” She sighs. “It doesn’t matter.”
I want to argue, to push her to see that it does matter. She matters. But I can’t find the words, so I ask something else. A safe topic, I hope. “You started shoplifting again?”
“Yes. It was that onesie. But afterward, once the adrenaline wore off, I felt absolutely terrible about it. Really bad and ashamed of myself. And I sent the cash and a written apology to the store, but I know that doesn’t make up for what I did.”
“You stole again because of the baby?”
“Because I needed…to feel in control.”
My fingers flex and itch to reach out to her, to show her she’s not alone. “Emerald.” I inhale deeply. I hate this. I hate that I’ve caused this look on her face. This thick wall of tension between us.
My eyes flicker over her and then to the side. To the chess set. “One game.”
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“A game.” I nod my chin behind her to the chessboard.
“Now? You want to play chess now?”
“Please, Em. One game.” I don’t know if it’ll help break through the tension between us or the way everything feels like it’s been turned upside down, but it’s worth a shot.
She sighs. “Fine. One game.” She pushes to her feet and sits in the chair with a sigh.
I move across the room and drop into my usual seat.
The silence between us is tense as she starts the game. Despite that, a sense of familiarity trickles over me, calming some of the anxiety threatening to choke me. I hate how out of control of the situation I’ve become.
I’m watching her, not the board, as she makes yet another move. “Do you really feel that way, Em?”
She looks up at me, flicking her hair back before she looks down at the board again. “What way?”
“That you won’t be an amazing mom?”
She knocks a piece over, and the wide eyes of her expression tell me she does in fact feel that way. She fixes the toppled piece and looks away. “Your turn, Saint.”
I only glance at the board before looking back at her. My piece slides across, but I’m only half playing. Emerald has my attention. “You know what you said isn’t true, right?”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not,” I grit out.
She blinks. My words came out a little harsher than I intended, but I need her to understand just how amazing she is. How much she’s already doing without even trying.
“Your siblings are damn lucky to have you, Emerald. Milena is a teenager. She’s got a chip on her shoulder sometimes, but deep down, she knows she’d be lost without you. The other two adore you. You do it all without protest. Without complaint. Without thinking of yourself.” I can see she’s thinking about what I’ve just said, so I carry on. “And our baby is goddamn lucky to have someone as kindhearted, caring, and loving as you as their mom…”
My heart thunders in my chest—surely, this is what a heart attack feels like. Because the words I really need to say, the words that lodge in my throat, just won’t come. “You’re smart. Not just with this stuff.” I motion to the board. “But with everything. I meant it when I told you that. There’s not a damn thing in this world you can’t do if you set your mind to it. Giulietta and Milena both got that trait from you.”
She moves her piece silently, averting her eyes.
Again, the need to cup her cheek, to make her see what I’m saying is true, has my hand flexing around the edge of the board. “You’ve done so much for your siblings. I doubt there’s a line you won’t cross to ensure they have everything they need and more. And you’ll do the same for our baby…” The words drift off for a second as I clear my throat, trying to dispel the feeling in my chest. “Your siblings are damn lucky to have you. And I’m…damn lucky to have you too.”
Her eyes shine, but she grits her teeth as she pushes her piece into place.
Just fucking say it. Tell her what she means to you.
I open my mouth before letting it shut as I look down at the board. Even though I’m staring at the pieces, I’m not seeing them.
“Thank you…”
My head snaps up, and my brow furrows. “What?”
“For saying that stuff.”
“It’s not stuff, Emerald. It’s the truth.” Instead of yet another lie. I’m trying here, trying to be the man she needs me to be. If I can just break through this tension between us, then I’m halfway there. “Em, I…” But I can’t get out what I need to say.
“Finish the game, Saint.”
I push my piece across the board.
And she slides her rook into place. Checkmate.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You let me win?”
“No, I didn’t—” The sound of my phone ringing cuts me off. “I didn’t lose on purpose. That’s not my style.” I lost because I wasn’t paying attention. Because getting her to see that she’s more than I could ever hope to deserve in life was more important.
My gaze drops to my phone, and I sigh heavily. “I have to go out for an hour. I’m really sorry. They need me at the casino. It’s urgent.” I fucking wish I could say no, but I can tell it’s non-negotiable. It’s at times like this that I fucking hate being a made man. “We can talk more when I get back.”
She nods.
I stand from the table, dragging a hand down my face as I shove my phone in my pocket. I cross the room in a few steps. I linger by the doorframe, my gaze not wanting to tear away from her. “We’re not over, Emerald. Not by a long shot .”
It takes every ounce of my loyalty to the Imperiosi to step outside the door. Someone better be fucking dying because if they aren’t, they’re about to be. And the sooner I deal with whatever shit is happening at the casino, the sooner I can get back here and fucking fix what I broke—or, at least, try to.
Because I plan to do whatever the hell it takes for Emerald Fiorelli to understand. To understand that I don’t think I can live without her now.