Chapter 17
Stella Mia
? The Hardest Part - Olivia Dean
Angelina
Present Day
On top of the general exhaustion that comes from growing a human being, I’m emotionally spent by the time we make it back to the house.
“Stay there,” Griffin says, parking in my driveway.
“What—”
He’s out of the truck and rounding the hood before I get the words out.
When my door swings open, I try again. “What are you doing?”
He reaches across the seat and unbuckles my belt. “Finally gonna carry my bride over the threshold.”
If he wants to give me the princess treatment, who am I to turn him down?
Griffin slips one arm beneath my knees and the other behind my back, and he lifts me out of my seat with ease. I grapple for purchase, my hands fisting in his shirt. We make it to the door in a few long strides.
“Keys?” he says.
“Not locked.”
“Baby girl, you're just begging for me to turn that ass red.”
My stomach flutters at his gruff words. I wouldn’t mind feeling his massive palm connect with my ass again, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
The door swings open, and he steps inside.
“Where to, my queen?”
A quiet laugh bubbles out of me for the first time since we left the doctor’s office. “Couch.”
He deposits me on the oversized sectional, then takes the open spot directly beside me. “Are you gonna call Tyler?”
“Yeah. I think so. The longer I wait, the harder it’ll be.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
My eyes land on the empty picture frames on the wall that once held mine and Tyler’s engagement photos. I spent weeks painstakingly picking out the off-the-shoulder white dress and matching heels so everything would be perfect.
Tyler went out the night before and got shit-faced.
I still remember Griffin helping him through the door at one o’clock in the morning.
The bartender had called him when he realized Tyler was too drunk to drive himself home, and that’s just the kind of man Griffin is.
He won’t hesitate to help a friend, whether they’ve had a few too many and need a ride home, or got left at the altar and need a replacement groom.
I can’t keep heaving my burdens onto him. Not this time.
“No. I have to do this on my own.”
Disappointment flickers in his dark irises, but he quickly steels himself.
“Call if you need anything.” He stands and walks toward the door, only to stop halfway and turn back around.
“Almost forgot. Mama wanted me to tell you she expects us both at family dinner on Sunday. We can’t keep putting it off. ”
“I’m honestly surprised we got away with it as long as we have.”
He laughs. “Yeah. I ran out of excuses weeks ago.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder. “I should go. Let me know what Tyler says.”
“So you can kick his ass?”
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect my wife. If that means I have to kick Tyler’s ass, so be it.”
With those parting words, he strides out the door, and I watch through my living room window as he drives away.
For a long time, I sit there, delaying the inevitable until my phone rings with an incoming call from my dad.
Both of my parents are in their late sixties, and they moved to Europe once they retired.
While we keep in touch as often as we can, the time difference between Italy and Oak Ridge makes it difficult.
They also don’t know the first thing about social media, which means they likely have no idea what’s been going on in my life since the wedding debacle.
I swipe to answer the call, and my dad’s beaming face comes into view. “Hi, Dad.”
“Angelina, stella mia. How are you?” My childhood nickname spoken in my dad’s rich Italian accent sends a flood of warmth through my system. This is just what I needed to lift my spirits.
“I’m good. Busy as usual.”
“That’s enough small talk, Alfonso,” Mom says, pushing her way into the frame. My heart squeezes at the sight of two of my favorite people in the whole world. I miss them both so much, but retirement looks good on them. “Let me see my daughter.”
My mom, Selena Rossi, grew up stateside, the youngest daughter of Greek immigrants. It was her greatest wish to retire to a coastal town in Europe, and my dad’s was always to make hers come true.
“Lina, my love. You look tired.”
I love my mother, truly I do, but she can be really direct in her delivery.
“How was the honeymoon?” she asks.
I stand from the sofa, pacing the length of the living room. “I have news.”
“Well, don’t keep us waiting,” she says. “What is it?”
Nausea rolls through me, but I manage to keep it at bay. I’m not certain it has anything to do with the pregnancy this time. “I didn’t marry Tyler.”
She frowns, squinting at the phone as though she might find the answers from halfway across the world if she stares hard enough. “What happened? You were so excited.”
“I was. He wasn’t.”
“Selly, how soon can we fly back to America?” Dad asks, voice stern.
I laugh. “No. I’m ok, I promise. But… that’s not all.”
Mom purses her lips. “Well... spit it out. We don’t have all day.”
“Do you remember my best friend, Jess?”
Her expression softens. “Of course.”
“I married her brother-in-law. Griffin.”
“The cowboy?” she asks, curiosity etched on her delicate features.
Everybody says I look like my mom, but I have my dad’s eyes.
“That’s the one.”
“Is he good to you?”
It’s telling that my mom’s first instinct isn’t to chastise me or question my decision-making. She supports me in everything I do, as long as it makes me happy. That’s the kind of mother I want to be.
I think back to our wedding night and the morning after.
I picture Griffin standing in the airport holding that ridiculous sign and giving me his sweatshirt to use as a pillow on the drive home.
I recall the gentle way he cared for me when I was sick, and the way he held my hand through the ultrasound.
Then I think of the baby and the way he’s offered to take care of us both.
I sink onto the sofa, a smile spreading across my face. “He is. And there’s something else.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Mom throws up her hands, turning her face to the sky. “Next thing she’s gonna tell us she’s pregnant.”
I grimace. Dad’s eyes widen, but my mother hasn’t noticed the awkward silence.
“Selly.” He tugs on her dress, pulling her back down to her seat.
“What is it now?” she asks, exasperated.
I pull out the ultrasound photo and hold it up for the camera. “I’m pregnant.”
Mom starts to laugh the same way I do when I’m stressed.
It’s probably best to just rip off the Band-Aid. “It’s Tyler’s.”
Her laughter becomes hysterical, and she buries her face in Dad's shirt. I’m well-versed in the art of inappropriate reactions, so I give her a few minutes to sit with the news.
Sometime later, she wipes the tears from her eyes and blows out a breath. “I’m sorry. I can’t help myself.”
“It’s okay. Really.”
Her expression softens. If she were here, I know she’d be reaching for my hand like she always does. “Does Tyler know?”
I swallow down the sudden emotion clogging my throat. “Tyler’s not interested in being a father.”
My dad’s face reddens. He doesn’t have to say a word for me to know his famous Rossi temper is reaching a boiling point. He’s a gentle soul until you mess with his family.
“I’m okay, Dad. Promise.”
“What about Griffin?” Mom asks.
“He wants to take care of us.”
“Then you should let him. He sounds like a good man.”
Despite how it might seem, Mom’s not a traditionalist, and she’d support me in a heartbeat if I told her I was going to raise the baby on my own. I know she has my best interest at heart. If she can’t be here for me, she wants to know I have someone else to lean on.
“Alfonso, maybe it’s time to move back.”
“No.” The word rushes out of me. “No. Don’t you dare. You’re living your dream, and now I’m going to live mine. I have plenty of people here to help out. Caroline and Shawn, Griffin and his family. We’re perfectly fine.”
“Are you happy, stella mia?” Dad asks.
It’s the second time in a week I’ve been asked the same question. Faced with it again, I don’t feel any reticence in my answer.
“I will be.”
“That’s all we want for you, Lina,” Mom says.
“I know, and I love you for it.”
The conversation shifts, and she fills me in on everything they’ve been up to since the last time we talked.
It’s not much, but I get all the best gossip about the neighbors I’ve never met.
Apparently, Gino cheated on Stacia, and she left him for some man she met at the trattoria where she works.
It’s the perfect distraction from the looming phone call with Tyler.
Mom and Dad say their goodbyes, and I promise to send them photos from my wedding and keep them updated about the pregnancy.
I collapse against the cushions as the call ends, and an overwhelming sense of dread washes over me. I wish I’d asked Griffin to stay, if only so I could have someone to lean on. But I’ve been doing a lot of that lately—leaning on Griffin—and I have to remember how to stand on my own again.
My thumb hovers over Tyler’s contact for longer than I care to admit before I finally get up the courage to let it fall. The phone rings and rings until I get his voicemail. “This is Ty. You know what to do.”
I hang up and type out a text instead.
Me: It’s yours.
But the text message feels too disingenuous, so I delete it and try again.
Me: Call me.
I hit send and toss my phone onto the sofa. I could really go for a margarita with a side of magnum dick right about now, but the margarita is off the table, and the magnum dick already walked out the door.
Since options A and B are both out of the question, I settle for option C: curling up in the corner of my couch with a soft blanket. I drift to sleep a while later, and wouldn’t you know it, I dream of a sandy beach on some unknown coast, a margarita in one hand, and a magnum dick in the other.
Two days pass, and not a single peep from Tyler. Every call goes unanswered, every text left on read. I can’t stay on this endless merry-go-round any longer. He needs to know the truth. What he does with that knowledge is his business.
I pull out my phone and tap on his contact. Last night, in a fit of rage fueled by rampant pregnancy hormones, I changed the name from Runaway Groom to Captain Cuck.
His voicemail picks up for the sixth time in two days. “This is Ty. You know what to do.”
“It’s Angie. Thought you might wanna know that the baby is yours, but I’m pretty sure you don’t actually give a fuck.
I guess I thought after three years together, you would at least show me a little bit of respect and tell me to my face that you don’t want this.
Either way, I’m done. DNA doesn’t mean anything to me.
You can go fuck yourself. I won’t waste another moment of my life on you. ”
I hang up the call and breathe a sigh of relief.
Maniacal laughter escapes as I catch sight of the ring on my left hand.
What has my life come to? I feel like I’m living in a daytime soap opera or one of those old nineties TV shows where they bring both baby daddies on stage to find out who the father is.
Tyler’s probably somewhere, throwing a chair.
As for Griffin, I don’t know what to make of him. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner—steadfast, attentive—but my life is complicated as it is. Can I really take everything he’s offering? Can I let him raise Tyler’s baby as his own? If I do, will he stay?
I may not have all of the answers yet, but I know one thing for certain. My life is about to change in immeasurable ways. I press my hand to my lower belly. “One day at a time.”