Chapter 44 – Serena
~Eight Months Later~
The warm water of the inflatable tub cocooned me. I was safe, I was well. There was only peace in this room, and love radiated from the familiar faces around me.
“Merda,” I hissed, feeling the tightening in my stomach.
Penny gripped my arm. “Let’s breathe.”
Focusing on my breath, I let her count. The comfort of the water held me close, while the flickering lights bathed the cottage in a gentle light. Piano music played through the space, a soft hum of classical tunes, but beneath it was the ever-present crashing of waves beyond the cottage walls.
Soon, I would walk the sandy shore with my baby in my arms.
Focusing on that image, I let out a heavy exhale as the contraction subsided.
“You’re doing great,” Dorothea murmured. “On the next one, we’re going to push.”
There wasn’t much time to draw in the refreshing oxygen I needed to relax. Already, the next contraction was there, and with it, the ring of fire.
I’d read about this. I’d done everything I could to prep. But that splitting sensation overwhelmed me.
For the first time all day, I screamed.
“Push, S, you’ve got this,” Penny cheered softly, holding me tight.
“He’s not back yet,” I choked.
“Sshhh, right now, you need to focus on your baby,” Dorothea coached. “Give me another push, come on.”
I groaned, sagging against the swollen plastic. “He said he’d be back. What if something’s happened?”
“Then we’ll deal with it, but you need to focus—”
The words drowned as another contraction bit me with such force that I clenched tight. I didn’t need the coaching; the urge to push was pure instinct.
“I see the head!” Penny whooped, volume too loud, too close to my ear.
“One more, just one more,” Dorothea encouraged.
The negative response was on the tip of my tongue. But I dove deep, summoning the vibrant strength that was intrinsic to motherhood.
“I can do this,” I whimpered.
And pushed.
Pain split me from the inside. It ripped the fibers of my very being. But then...it stopped. The pressure released. I was empty. The release was euphoric.
The splash behind had me keeling over, sitting on my bottom and giving my aching knees the relief they needed.
There, being pulled out of the water by the capable hands of the older woman, was a little, blue lump.
“Mother of god! It’s not breathing!” I screamed.
Dorothea chuckled as she rubbed the baby’s back. “It’s a she, and she’s breathing just fine. Listen!”
A moment later, a strong, insistent cry filled the room.
I sobbed.
The next second, the little lump was in my arms. The tiny chest rose and fell. Frenzied wails turned to music as they hit my ears.
Beside me, Penelope was crying as well. “I can’t wait for my turn.”
Just then, the door burst open.
Instinctively, I clutched my baby to my chest, but then my brain registered the intruder—who should have been here from the beginning.
“Where have you been?” I croaked. “You weren’t here.”
Markos fell to his knees. There was a decided shake in his hands as he reached for me, for us. “I was here. I heard you, princess,” he whispered in Greek.
I hiccupped a laugh and leaned my head against his. “She’s perfect.”
From the crash language course, I knew I mixed up the pronunciation, but Markos understood the sentiment that transcended language.
“She’s perfect,” he repeated.
So wrapped up in the blissful moment, I barely noticed Dorothea, still in the water, until a much less violent contraction and corresponding tug made the pool’s water splash slightly.
“The afterbirth is done; you’re all set, mama.”
Mama.
That word rang in my ears, the final crescendo to a turbulent symphony.
Penny draped a swaddling cloth over the baby before sniffing hard and wiping her nose. “I’ll go tell Alessio it’s over.”
“Tell him his niece wants to meet him...in a little bit,” I added. She nodded, but I caught her hand as she passed. “Thank you for being my rock, Pen.”
“Anytime.” She grinned.
Dorothea bustled about the kitchen but didn’t interfere with the long moments that followed. Markos and I sat there, staring down at the little creature squawking and rooting around my chest. She latched quickly, and I hissed.
“Serena?” Markos’s voice was thick with worry.
“I’m okay,” I assured him. “It’s just...weird to have her do it and not, well, you know,” I dropped my voice, hoping his aunt didn’t hear. “You’re not so gentle.”
The pirate chuckled. “I can only imagine.”
I bet he could.
As I gazed down at her tiny face, a sensation unlike anything I’d ever known washed over me.
This indescribable warmth radiated from my chest outward, as though my heart had expanded beyond its physical boundaries to make room for this overwhelming love.
Her weight against me—so slight yet so significant—anchored me to this moment, to this reality where I was now someone’s mother.
Her tiny fist curled around my finger with surprising strength, and in that grasp, I felt the universe shift and realign.
Every breath she took seemed miraculous, every flutter of her impossibly long eyelashes a marvel.
Time stretched and compressed all at once; we existed in our own bubble where nothing else mattered but this perfect connection between us.
I understood then what people meant when they said having a child was like having your heart beat outside your body—vulnerable, precious, and wholly miraculous.
When she finally settled, spitting out my nipple, Dorothea took her so Markos could help me from the pool.
He gently draped a robe over me before helping me with more intimate part of postpartum dressing.
I stepped into the diaper, reminding myself that I had nothing to be embarrassed about.
It was hard, though, to be torn apart and wounded in this strange way.
Markos helped me to the brand-new couch in the living room, and once I was settled on the pillows, I opened the robe so the little mite could lay on me, skin to skin.
“Your turn next,” I smiled at the pirate.
His lip twitched, and I knew how uncomfortable he was at the idea of our baby laying on his mottled flesh.
“I should wash the sea off first,” he muttered.
“Fine, but you’re not avoiding this,” I insisted gently. “She needs her papa.”
The moment she was on my chest, I sighed in contentment.
“You can tell them they can come in,” I told Dorothea.
She nodded, but Markos caught her wrist. “I want to introduce you to your granddaughter. Meet Maria Iosiphina.”
“Demetriou,” I added. “Maria Iosiphina Demetriou.”
The old woman’s lip wobbled. She scurried away, but not before I saw the soft tears falling.
“Go shower, pirate,” I urged him.
Markos shifted.
He was saved by the appearance of my brother, his wife, and Markos’s aunt and cousin. Evangelia’s eyes were as big as saucers.
“There, you’ve seen the baby, now come help me clean up in the kitchen,” her mother muttered. “Let them have a family moment.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to contradict our aunt, but I stopped.
Dorothea needed the busy work to deal with the feelings that were likely raging inside her.
Her memories, her loss—I couldn’t fathom that agony.
The presence of her only remaining child would probably help her more than the physical aid Evangelia could offer.
So I let them go.
Looking up at my brother, I saw him give Markos a hard look, which the pirate responded to in equal measure. Two weeks earlier, when Penelope and Alessandro came to town, there had been a few black eyes between the men. They were mostly healed now.
“Leo sends his love. He’ll be in Tampa next month,” Sandro said, finally looking to me. “He’s bringing his wife.”
Penny and I exchanged a smile. “It will be good to see Annaliese. We weren’t able to connect over the summer.”
“She has something to tell you,” Penny confessed.
I sucked in a sharp breath, barely able to contain my excitement. “No! Really?”
Penny nodded eagerly. “But on a matter of technicality, I didn’t tell you what that was.”
“Oh, no, of course not,” I laughed conspiratorially. “I’ll pretend to figure it out on my own.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Sandro insists. “You two know something.”
“It means there’ll be another Mancini,” Penny whispered and brushed the tip of her finger over the baby’s tiny fist. “This little one is getting a cousin.”
***
Later that night, drowsy and with a belly full of food, I watched Markos emerge from the bedroom. He smelled of cedar, but I knew the salty undertone still remained.
“Come here, pirate.” I scooched over on the couch, inviting him close more than making room for his bulk.
Markos stalked forward. Jaw clenched tight, he shucked his shirt. Candlelight danced over his skin, revealing the tale of misery and woe. But the moment I handed him our daughter, something changed. The scars no longer spoke of a damaged soul, but of a fighter, who’d survived hell and would again.
“We did good,” I whispered, laying back and stretching my arms overhead.
“I’m going to break her.” He choked on the hushed words.
“You’re going to protect her and teach her to protect herself and others,” I countered.
As I watched them, I felt my fairytale coming true at last. This might not be the story every girl craved, but for the princess in the castle, it was the perfect ending to the chapter.