Chapter 43
Chapter Forty Three
Erica
Hours blur together in this room in a way that should be impossible.
The ER waiting room doesn’t change. The captions keep rolling across the bottom of the TV. The vending machine keeps humming. People come and go. The receptionist keeps tapping at her computer like my whole world isn’t burning around me.
But everything in me is on fire.
I sit with my hands folded in my lap because if I let them move, I’ll start picking at my cuticles until they bleed. My knee bounces, and I keep forcing it still. My stomach is hollow and tight, refusing the idea of food, but my head hurts anyway from not eating.
Nico is beside me. Close. Solid. His arm rests along the back of the chairs, his hand on my shoulder when my breathing gets too shallow, like he can feel the moment my ribs start to lock up.
It’s the only thing keeping me from splintering.
Bianca comes in and out like a sunbeam with legs, like she’s decided that if she can’t fix this, she can at least keep me fed. She keeps showing up with little paper bags and plastic containers and bottles of water, and every time I try to tell her she doesn’t have to—
When I even suggested the idea that Nico’s family didn’t have to be there…
“No,” Nico had cut in the first time, not even letting me finish the sentence. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was final. Like it wasn’t a discussion. Like them being there was now a fact of my life now.
So I stopped trying.
And anyway… it’s nice.
And terrifying.
I’m not used to this, and it scares me to have so many people here with me, to support me.
It just seems like more people to let down. I met most of these people last night, and now I’m being treated like part of the family. And I don’t know if I can handle it.
Vito came back at one point. Antonio too.
Roberto. Giovanni. They rotate like they’re doing shifts.
Sometimes they sit. Sometimes they stand in corners like they’re guarding the exits.
Sometimes one of them disappears and then returns with coffee and a phone pressed to their ear, murmuring to someone I can’t hear.
Elena had been here earlier, and Luca was a frequent presence.
But Nico is the one true constant.
His knee brushes mine. His hand finds mine when my fingers start to tremble. He doesn’t ask questions or pester me into conversation. He doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay, because he knows better than to offer lies.
He just stays.
It’s been hours since Nico and Vito walked out of here with Dr. Shah.
I don’t know what happened. I don’t ask, because I’m not sure I want to know, and because I’m not sure I can handle even one more thing.
All I know is Dr. Shah hasn’t come back. Not to me, anyway. Not to explain. Not to apologize. Not to update me on my dad.
The only update I’ve gotten is from the ER attending.
A woman with tired eyes and a voice that stays neutral-friendly.
She’d come out, called my name, led me into a small corner by the triage desk, and told me my father was in septic shock.
Septic shock.
Two words that made my vision blacken around the edges.
She’d explained it in simple terms so my brain could actually absorb it: infection overwhelming the body, blood pressure dropping, organs under stress. He told me they were doing everything they could. Fluids. Antibiotics. Medications to support blood pressure.
And because there was also that delayed hemorrhage—because my dad’s body has decided it’s going to throw every possible complication at us—they were going to start drainage efforts with something called interventional radiology.
She said it like it was a plan. A route. A thing people do all the time.
I nodded as if I understood. As if I wasn’t drowning.
I asked if I could see my dad.
The attending’s face tightened in apology before she even spoke.
“Not right now,” she’d said. “We need to stabilize him first. I’ll come back as soon as I have another update.”
And then she’d left me here. Back on the vinyl chair. Back under the TV captions. Back in the hum.
I stare at the double doors as if I stare hard enough, they’ll open, and someone will say, We fixed it. We caught it in time. He’s okay.
My mind keeps trying to build images I don’t want. My dad in a room full of machines. My dad on a bed again. My dad slipping away.
I swallow hard, and my throat aches.
Nico shifts beside me, his shoulder pressing into mine more firmly.
I let myself lean.
Just a little.
Because I can’t hold myself upright alone anymore.
“I hate this,” I whisper.
It barely comes out.
Nico’s hand tightens on mine.
“I know,” he says.
I blink fast and keep my eyes on the doors, because if I look at him, I’ll cry, and I don’t want to cry again in front of all these people who keep showing up for me.
Like this is what family does.
And the worst part is, it feels good.
Not the situation.
Never that.
But the fact that when my world is falling apart, there are people on either side of me. How different it is from three weeks ago.
Three weeks.
Has it really only been three weeks since my dad’s surgery? Almost four weeks since the auction and Nico.
It feels like so much longer.
A month. I fell in love with this man in a month. It seems crazy to think about now. How it was all just sex at first. And that hasn’t stopped at all, as we fuck every chance we get.
But it’s more than that.
It’s more than just—
I sit up straighter.
A whole month. We’ve been doing it every chance we get.
And the whole time, I never…
My mouth dries.
“It’s stress,” I murmur to myself. “Just stress, right? It can do that.”
Nico leans closer. “What's that?"
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Just… thinking.”
Stress or... I could be...
No.
I’m not.
I can’t be.
I force myself to breathe normally, even though it feels like I’m suddenly breathing through a straw.
My period is late.
Not by a little. By a lot.
I tried to explain it away. The stress. The schedule change. The terrible sleep. All of it makes sense. My body has been through the wringer. It’s not that big of a deal.
Except it is.
It’s a huge deal. Because it doesn't matter what I've gone through before, my period has always been consistent and on time. It's one of those things that I can always count on. But I've been so focused on my dad and this thing with Nico... I didn't even think about it.
And now that I’m thinking about it, my entire body flushes with heat that has nothing to do with the stuffy waiting room.
I’m in love with a mafioso. My dad might be dying of septic shock. And I might be pregnant.
My breath hitches.
I can't do this.
I can't.
Bianca walks in and smiles, but it falters a little when she sees my face. “Erica? Are you okay? You look pale.”
I open my mouth to say something. Anything. Fine. Just tired.
Instead, I stand up so fast my chair squeaks. “I have to use the restroom.”
I don’t wait for a response. I just turn and walk away, toward the sign with the stick figure in a dress, my legs feeling shaky and disconnected from my body.
The restroom is empty, which I’m grateful for.
I lock myself in the last stall, my back pressed against the cool metal door, and slide down to sit on the floor. The tiles are cold against my bare legs, and I hug my knees to my chest, trying to breathe.
Pregnant.
The word echoes in my head, loud and accusatory.
How could I be so stupid? How could I be so careless?
I bury my face in my knees, the fabric of my jeans rough against my skin.
What am I going to do?
What if I am?
What will Nico say? What will he do?
The thought is so terrifying it makes me feel sick. I don’t know the answer. I can’t predict him, not on this. This isn’t business. This isn’t a threat. This is… everything.
I heard the bathroom door open and close. I freeze, holding my breath.
“Erica?” Bianca’s voice, soft and hesitant, calls out. “Are you in here?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could disappear.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, and my voice is hoarse.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her footsteps getting closer until she stops right outside my stall.
I want to lie. I want to say I’m fine. But I can’t get the word out.
So I just shake my head, even though she can’t see me.
There’s a pause, then I hear the rustle of her coat as she sinks down to the floor outside the door.
“Can I come in?” she asks gently.
I unlock the door.
She pushes it open and finds me huddled on the floor. She doesn’t ask any questions. She just sits down on the tile floor opposite me, tucks her knees under her chin, and waits.
I look at her, at her kind face and her worried eyes, and the dam breaks.
A sob rips out of me, raw and ugly.
Bianca moves closer, and then her arms are around me, pulling me into a hug. She doesn’t say anything. She just holds me while I cry, her hand rubbing slow circles on my back. She smells like lavender and something warm, like home.
I cry until I can’t anymore, until my sobs turn into hiccups and my head is pounding.
"When I first realized that I might be pregnant," she says, "I was sitting on a bathroom floor, I had just thrown my guts up, and all I wanted to do was cry."
I pull back to look at her, my eyes wide.
"But I couldn't because... I had been kidnapped by a rival family, and I couldn't let them find out because then they’d have more leverage over Gio," she says with a weak smile.
"It's a very long story for another day, but the mountains that man moved to get me back, and the way he is with Stephano.
.. it's a kind of love I never knew was real, not until he gave it to me. "
I stare at her. I hadn't heard that story. I didn't know any of that.
"It's terrifying, isn't it?" she asks, her voice soft. "The idea of it. The reality of it. The way it changes everything."
I just nod, unable to speak.
"And you're dealing with all of this," she says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the ER. "On top of it. Erica, it's okay to be terrified. I would be too. Anyone would be."
"How did you know?" I whisper.
"I didn't," she says simply. "Not for sure. But I've been there. I see the same look on your face that I had on mine in the mirror of that damn bathroom."
She laughs weakly and opens her purse.
"The same look I had on my face when I had an epiphany this morning." Out of her purse, she pulls out two pregnancy tests. "Just in case, you know? But it's not any less terrifying the second time than it is the first time, even in a non-kidnapping situation."
She holds one out to me.
I stare at it as if it might bite me.
"Take them together?" she asks. "Neither of us will be alone this way."
I take the test from her, my hand shaking so badly the little box rattles.
"But you could do this with Giovanni," I say. "It's not the same with you two."
"I know," she says. "But I don't want to get his hopes up if it's negative. And actually, it might be more fun this way for us. We get to freak out and worry together."
She gets to her feet and then helps me up.
"Now we have a mission," she says, her voice firm. "We find out what's going on, and then we figure out what we're going to do next. One step at a time. That's how I did it with Stephano. That's how you're going to do this, too."
I nod.
"I'm scared."
She pulls me into a hug again. "I know. But we're doing it together. And no matter what, you and me and the baby, or babies, will have a whole family that is going to lose their minds with happiness."
She takes her box and walks into the neighboring stall.
I sit on the toilet, rip open the box, and pee on the stick. My hands are shaking so badly, I'm afraid I'm going to drop it in the toilet.
Then we sit together on the floor again and wait for the longest three minutes of our lives. Or mine, anyway.
Three minutes and my life could change forever.
"What if... what if he hates it?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
"That's impossible," Bianca says immediately,
"You don't know that. This is... this is huge, Bianca. We've only been together a month. Technically, three weeks. A month is when we first... Never mind."
My face heats sheepishly, and she sends me a sly smile.
"It was less than that for Gio and me," she says, and I can hear her smile. "I met him one week, I was his personal chef the next, we went to Italy the one after that. By the time we got back, there was no going back for me; I was his.
"And honestly, Erica," she continues, "the way that man looks at you... he is well and truly smitten. He's a bit stoic, that one, but I think he'll be an amazing father."
I nod.
"And you don't have a problem with... what they do?"
She sighs. "I did. I really did. When I met Gio, he held my mother's debt.
It's why I started working for him. Then I found out he was using that debt, along with a lot of his own money, to clean up the streets around Regalia.
To make things better for people who couldn't do it for themselves.
And it's not just him. They all do it. It's complicated. "
My timer goes off, and I jump.
"Well," she says, standing up. "Time to face the music."
"Same time?" I say.
She nods.
We stand together in the tiny stall, then look down.
Two lines.
Two pink lines.
Bianca whispers, "Oh my God."
And I look at hers.
Two pink lines there, too.
Pregnant.
We're both pregnant.
I am pregnant with Nico Conti's child.
My knees feel weak, and Bianca must see it, because she grabs my arm and steadies me. I look at her, and she's beaming, tears in her eyes.
"We're pregnant," she says.
"We're pregnant," I echo, the words feeling strange and huge in my mouth.
She pulls me in for a hug.