Chapter 24
24
Giselle
I knew I had good babies. But I never really appreciated exactly how lucky I’d been in the whole baby lottery that was motherhood.
You never really knew how your baby was going to be when they came out. Would they be little quiet angels? Or angry, demanding hellions?
Either way, you didn’t know what hand you’d been dealt until the baby came out.
Dani had been an angel—and still was.
Marcello was much more demanding. But as long as his tummy was full, he was a good little guy.
But Nicco.
Oh, my gosh.
That kid had a set of lungs on him.
And I knew this because he screamed for most of his waking hours. It was terrible. I hadn’t been around that many babies, but this seemed odd to me.
I even suggested to Carlo that maybe something was physically wrong with him. And Carlo, being Carlo, had three different pediatricians in to take a look at Nicco over the last week.
One had suggested more tummy time. One had suggested a change in formula.
And the last one had suggested a warm bath. For Carlo. Not the baby. He said some babies had colic and there wasn’t a darn thing you could do about it. Except wait it out.
Other than that, I kept my distance. Carlo was right, Nicco did look like him. And anyone with eyes could tell that Marcello and Nicco were brothers.
I didn’t want to admit how much that bothered me inside. Of course, just thinking that made me feel like an awful person.
I think under the circumstances, I’d be allowed to feel that way, though.
Eve tried walking Nicco around. Carlo tried. Even Nick tried his hand at it.
Dani joined in, too, offering Nicco toys and singing songs to him.
No matter what anyone did—nothing helped. Not even a little bit.
Nicco screamed his face off.
And Stassia had fired two more nannies. Carlo was at his wits end. He and Stassia fought so much it even made me uncomfortable.
Carlo—and Eve—had taken Nicco back to her a few times. And each time, Stassia would be back at our door an hour later.
As it turned out, Stassia only enjoyed the babymaking part of motherhood. Not the actual mothering part of motherhood.
Although at the moment, I didn’t think anyone here was having a great time.
Even Nick and Eve’s kids were on edge listening to the constant crying. I tried to keep the kids busy, but I was still nursing Marcello so often, I wasn’t all that much help.
Carlo spent most of the night in a different bedroom with Nicco. He did his best attempting to keep him quiet, but nothing seemed to work.
And everyone was so freaking tired.
On the eighth night of screaming, I had an idea. It was three in the morning, and I’d do just about anything to get an hour of sleep before Marcello woke up for his next feed.
So, I quietly slipped out of bed and tiptoed down the hall to Nicco’s room. When I opened the door, Carlo’s head turned to me. He frowned, but I ignored him. Carlo sat in a comfortable recliner in the corner, and Nicco lay on his father’s chest. I walked over and—for the first time ever—picked Nicco up. He fought me something awful, but I didn’t stop.
“Shh, honey. Shh,” I said, patting his back. I cradled him against my chest and rubbed his back.
He wasn’t thrilled, but eventually, he stopped pushing me away. That didn’t mean he quit crying, though.
After a few minutes, he was down to a much lower volume, though.
It was then that I took him back to our room.
If this worked, we’d all get an hour of sleep.
If it didn’t—I’d wake up Marcello early and have two screaming babies on my hands.
“What are you doing?” Carlo whispered behind me. I didn’t answer. I just kept shuffling to our room.
Once we were inside, I very carefully lay Nicco down in Marcello’s crib.
Marcello barely flinched. He was a deep sleeper, just like his sister.
“Shh, honey. See? You have a friend, now. Shh.” I gently pulled his hand over so he could touch Marcello’s arm.
And just like magic—Nicco stopped crying. He looked at Marcello, frowning a sweet little baby frown and scrunching his face up.
At that exact second, Marcello opened his eyes.
And they both stared at each other.
And in that moment, I swear I felt something pass between them. Like it was some kind of secret language or something. Nicco’s hand grasped onto Marcello’s arm and stayed there. Marcello looked at Nicco’s hand for a moment. And then he sighed and closed his eyes again.
Nicco kept his eyes on Marcello for another full minute before he—sighed. And closed his eyes.
The pain on his face instantly disappeared, and he seemed to drift off.
“Is that—” Carlo started to say, then lowered his voice to a whisper, “okay?”
I shrugged because honestly, at that moment, all I cared about was getting in sixty minutes of sleep before Marcello woke up.
“I guess we’ll see.” I looked up at Carlo and grabbed his hand. We really hadn’t had any time at all together in the last week. He was always dealing with Nicco and also trying to spend as much time as possible with Dani. She still wanted her dada’s attention. And he still wanted hers.
That meant our relationship suffered because of it.
“Come to bed. We have fifty-eight minutes or less before Marcello will be up.”
Carlo nodded and followed me to bed.
We slipped between the sheets, Carlo pulling me into his body, spooning me. “She left,” he said into my ear, his warm breath floating over my skin. I had no idea what he was talking about. Dani was in her room. I’d tucked her in. Ari was inside asleep. And I just saw Eve three hours ago in the kitchen.
There were no more shes in the house.
“What are you talking about?” I turned my head slightly.
“Stassia. She left. She’s gone.”
My lungs quit functioning. What the heck did he mean—Stassia left?
“She said she’ll sign custody over if I pay her off.”
My mouth dropped open, and I rolled over in his arms. “Are you serious?” I asked, not believing what Carlo was saying. He couldn’t mean what he was saying. Stassia wasn’t the type to essentially—sell her son. I must be misunderstanding.
“She said she doesn’t want to be a mother anymore. Said she hates everything about being a mother. She wants her old life back.”
Some of those words brought back memories for me. Bad memories. “Maybe she has postpartum? She should go see a doc in the morning.”
Carlo’s head shook slowly. “She’s been to four. I forced her to go. And none of them say she’s got any kind of postpartum.”
If Stassia didn’t have postpartum—then what the heck did she have? What kind of mother didn’t want her kid? Yes, Nicco was loud and colicky. But he was a big, beautiful baby. You’d have to be pretty stupid not to see the promise of what he’d be one day.
Babyhood didn’t last forever. Neither did colic. She had to know that.
“Where did she go?”
Carlo kissed my forehead. “Fuck if I know. All she told me was that she was getting the hell out of here.”
If Stassia didn’t want Nicco—that meant he’d be Carlo’s full-time responsibility. Which also meant he’d be mine.
Two babies under one. And a three-year-old.
And I was pregnant.
Good grief.
“Can we talk about this in fifty-six minutes?” I pleaded with Carlo. There was nothing we could do in the next hour to solve this problem. And he and I desperately needed sleep.
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes shutting as he yawned.
And then, because yawns were contagious—I followed suit and yawned, too. My whole body participating and shaking while I did so.
After that, I closed my eyes and cleared my mind as well as I could. Surprisingly, it worked.
Or maybe it was just the pure exhaustion.
But I slept.
We slept.
All of us.
Then Nicco’s cry pierced through the silence and woke us all up.
Oddly, my body felt stiff. Like I’d been asleep for longer than an hour.
Marcello started crying now, too.
Carlo let out a moan and pulled his arm from under my head.
I rolled to the edge of the bed and looked at my phone. It said seven o’clock. That couldn’t be right. Could it?
I looked at the drapes and saw light peeking from behind them.
And then—my breasts began to throb. The pain radiated through my body, and I winced as I gently touched my right breast. I was so overly full my breast felt hard.
Carlo picked up one baby, then two. I wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he walked over to the bed and laid them both down. Two big, strong babies crying and fussing for their next meal.
I sat back against the headboard while Carlo finished changing Marcello’s diaper. Then he passed him to me. I attached him to my left breast and felt almost instant relief. “You’re going to help your momma out. Right?” He nuzzled into me and did his best with my strong flow. When I was this full, my milk came out in spurts.
My right breast was still in pain, though. I needed my pump.
“Dang,” I said, looking over at my hand pump that was across the room. I should have grabbed it while Carlo was changing Marcello.
“What do you need?” he asked with a frown. He was almost done changing Nicco.
“My pump. I’m so full, it hurts. There’s no way he’s going to drain both breasts. And I don’t want to end up a bigger problem.”
He nodded and picked up Nicco. A very upset Nicco. He was probably hungry. And scared. His mother wasn’t here. And who knew when the heck she’d be back to see him again?
Carlo picked up my pump and headed back over to hand it to me.
Then he walked to the door, Nicco in his arms. Probably to get a bottle from the kitchen.
“Come back when you get him a bottle. Maybe he’ll eat if he’s beside Marcello.”
Carlo turned back and nodded.
I pushed my nightie down on my right side and fitted the pump to my breast. As I waited for it to start relieving my pain—nothing was happening. I tried it a few more times—but nothing.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” I said in a low, sharp tone. What was I going to do with a broken pump? And an overly full, painful breast?
Carlo walked back in, Nicco screaming, even angrier than before. He was acting like Carlo was trying to kill him with the bottle in his hand. His head twisted and turned from side to side, doing everything he could to avoid drinking it.
“What’s wrong?” Carlo’s deep voice traveled through the bedroom.
“My pump is broken. And my breast is killing me. I can’t believe he skipped a feeding. He’s never done that before.”
I motioned him over. “Here, hand him to me.”
Carlo reluctantly gave me Nicco. I laid him down with me. I had both babies on me, football style on my lap. So, they could see each other. I took the bottle from Carlo and offered it to Nicco.
All that did was make him yell louder.
“Yikes, you really don’t like formula. Do you?” I asked as I touched his red, chubby face. “Shh, you have to eat little man. Look at your brother. He’s eating. You need to have some breakfast, too. Your tummy must be hurting you.”
I felt my eyes begin to tear up as I thought about how uncomfortable he must be. No food.
No mother.
Living in a house with virtual strangers. The poor little guy must be so scared.
Try as I might—nothing worked. I couldn’t trick him into drinking from his bottle.
Carlo sat down beside us, and I handed the bottle to him. Then I felt a wetness down my belly. I looked to see that I was leaking. “Dammit. Can you get me a towel, please? I’m leaking.”
Carlo jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.
Nicco just laid there, fussing and screaming his little heart out. It was at that moment—I remembered the afternoon when Marcello was screaming. Not wanting his bottle, either. I’d been a crappy mother. Not once had I fed my son.
And then, by accident, as I was covered in loose hair and hair treatment—and soap—he’d found my nipple and started to drink.
Would this work?
And if it did—could I do this? With someone else’s baby?
Nicco and I didn’t share a shred of DNA. We’d only met just over a week ago.
I was a perfect stranger to him.
Just as he was to me.
Could I do this?
“Come here, honey. You need to eat.” I pulled him closer to me—and I offered him my breast.
It took us a few tries. But lots of good things began with false starts.
Eventually, Nicco latched onto me.
And drank.
My breast still hurt, but the relief I felt as he drank was real. Without Nicco, I’d be in even more pain soon.
I kept my hand on the back of his head and stared into his beautiful blue eyes. His eyes locked onto mine—like he was asking me a question. A question I didn’t understand.
“You’re okay. See your brother? He’s a good eater. And you will be, too. Shh.” I stroked the side of his tear-stained face with my thumb. “You’re okay, now. You’re just hungry.” After a few minutes, the strangeness between us seemed to disappear. And Nicco settled into me. Maybe trusting me a little more than he did before.
When Carlo touched my arm, I jumped. He was right beside me. I hadn’t even noticed he came back. “Is this—okay?” he asked me with an odd look on his face.
All I said was, “I really don’t know. But he’s quiet. So, I don’t see why not?”
Carlo didn’t say anything. He just looked at me and then at Nicco.
“Did Stassia ever breastfeed him?”
Carlo shook his head. “No, not once. He’s always had bottles.”
We all sat there until Marcello announced that he was finished. I handed him over to his father for burping.
Nicco kept drinking, though. After a few more minutes, a wave of exhaustion hit me.
So, with no little protest, I removed Nicco from me and moved him around so I could lay down.
I resettled us, and Nicco latched on immediately this time. And he drank. And drank. While my eyes fell shut.
I had wonderful dreams.
Dreams of Carlo and me in his house. Marcello and Nicco were a little older. Toddling around the living room. Dani was pretending to chase them, and they were all giggling themselves sick.
I turned my head to see Marcello—Carlo’s father—standing there, watching all of us.
I grinned. “Hi,” I greeted him enthusiastically.
“Hello, mia cara. See what a beautiful family you have? Just like I told you. Babies come how they come, Giselle. And you were lucky enough to be given an extra one you didn’t have to carry.” He nodded at a happy, joyful Nicco.
“He is yours, Giselle. Just like Daniella. Just like Marcello. And just like this one.” A tiny bundle in a blue blanket wriggled in Marcello’s arms. “Another son.” Marcello smiled. He looked younger, and even more handsome than he had last time. “You can name him Lucca. It’s a good name. Don’t you think?” he asked me as I felt my eyes fill with tears.
A son.
Another boy.
I sniffled and nodded. “Thank you,” I said, walking toward him with my arms open, ready to take the baby—Lucca, from him.
Marcello started to laugh and shake his head. “No, not yet. He’s mine for a little while longer.” He gazed down with proud eyes at his grandson. He looked over at me. “Besides, you have your hands full. Yes? You need time, too. With Nicco. Your new son. To bond. To love.” His voice got low, and I felt it swirl around me in a big, caring hug. Even though he was across the room. “And you will love him. I promise. Because he is yours, Giselle. He was always meant to be yours. Just because he came to you in a different way, doesn’t mean he’s not yours.”
His words.
They hit me.
Hard.
Marcello wanted me to look after Nicco.
To be his mother.
“Giselle, wake up,” I heard Carlo’s voice rousing me out of my sleep.
The more he called me, the quicker Marcello and Lucca faded away. “No, stay. Please stay,” I begged Marcello as he and Lucca disappeared before my eyes. “No, no, no. Stay. Please, stay.”
My eyes fluttered open to see Carlo trying to take Nicco from me. But I was holding onto him.
Nicco had his eyes open. Wide.
He wasn’t crying.
He wasn’t screaming.
He was just—looking. At us.
“You were having a nightmare,” he said, the concern on his face breaking my heart. But now was not the time to get into my dream.
That could come later.
I let go of Nicco and sat up, wiping my eyes with my hands. “No, it was a good dream. I’ll tell you about it later.”
I yawned.
And then Nicco yawned.
And Carlo and I laughed.
Carlo held him in his arms, and I snuggled up to both of them. “He’s not crying,” Carlo observed cautiously.
“He’s not crying,” I repeated his words back to him.
“He looks almost—” Carlo started to say, but I finished for him.
“Happy.”
Carlo nodded.
We stared at him for another minute until I gently touched his hand, and he instantly wrapped it around my finger.
And then.
He smiled.
At me.
I gave him a very teary smile right back. “I knew you were in there somewhere.”
He grinned a big slobbery smile at me again. I couldn’t stop myself. I reached in and pulled him out of Carlo’s arms. Then I cradled him against me. Our eyes still locked. Holding each other with our gazes.
“You just needed a full belly.” I grabbed his hand and kissed it. He smelled like baby powder and—love.
“He just needed a mother.” Carlo kissed the side of my head and I turned to look up at him. I couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Can you really do this?” He peered at Nicco, and then back to me. “Can you love another woman’s baby?” His voice was filled with astonishment. No. More like—admiration.
“I already do.” A couple of tears escaped down my cheeks. “Do you really think she’s not coming back?” I asked him, probably needlessly. Stassia was a selfish beast. It wasn’t that far of a stretch to imagine her not wanting anything to do with motherhood.
She’d gotten what she wanted. Carlo—even if it was just for a short time. And a payday after handing over his son.
“She’s gone, Giselle.” He shook his head and didn’t seem happy about Stassia leaving. Not at all. “I can’t believe she’d abandon her own baby. A kid shouldn’t have to grow up without a mother. Even if that mother is a materialistic bitch.”
A light tap sounded at the door, and we turned to see Nick and Eve standing there. I hadn’t heard them open the door, so I had no idea how long they’d been there.
“He doesn’t have to grow up without a mother.” Eve strolled into our room, and Nick followed close behind.
She sat on the bed in front of me and smiled at us all. “He loves you already, Giselle.”
Carlo nodded and squeezed my leg. “She’s right. He’s claimed you.”
Nicco was still staring up at me. Wide-eyed. Barely blinking. He was being so darn cute. Maybe Carlo was right.
Maybe he had claimed me.
Or—maybe I’d claimed him.
“How do we—explain him, though?” My mind started racing through the years.
Years where he’d be going to school with Marcello. They’d be in the same class. And this new baby would be in the grade below them.
Dani would be a few years ahead, but still in the same school. As would any other kids Carlo and I had.
How would we explain this to his school friends? And teachers? And the other parents?
How Carlo had two babies—that were practically the exact same age—with two different women.
They’d get made fun of. And maybe bullied.
By the kids and the parents.
I expressed my fears. “I don’t want people to look down on him. You know? None of this stuff with Stassia is his fault. But people will hold it against him. And that’s not fair.”
For some reason, Eve kept a big smile on her face. And I had no idea why.
Finally, she spoke up, “I know that. I’ve been thinking about it all night since I found out.” I shouldn’t be surprised that she knew what had gone on with Stassia leaving.
“What do you propose?” Carlo asked her with an edge to his voice.
Her grin grew. “They were born two days apart. They definitely look like brothers. I think you should tell people they’re twins. Stassia doesn’t want to be a mother. And you do. We all know you’ll treat Nicco like one of yours, anyway. What harm would it be to twist the truth a little?”
I gasped at her idea. It was one thing raising another woman’s child. And it was a whole other thing to pretend the child was mine.
Forever.
“I—I—” I stammered, looking up at Carlo. He had a serious expression on his face. “I don’t know that I could lie to him like that. Lie to all our kids.”
Carlo swallowed audibly and looked into my eyes. “Stassia isn’t coming back. She has her money.”
My mouth gaped open. Was he seriously considering this? “Well, what if she comes back asking for more?” I asked incredulously. Because from the little I knew about Stassia, I bet she would.
Carlo sighed and slid his arm around me. “Then I’ll give her more to stay away.”
Again, my mind raced with this idea. This insane idea. “It couldn’t work, though. People must know she had your baby.”
The serious look on his face turned grim. He shook his head. “She spent most of her pregnancy in Greece.”
I frowned, wondering why the heck she stayed so far away from her family and friends.
“Greece?” I asked, not understanding Stassia’s reasoning.
“She wanted me. And when I make it clear that I didn’t want her, she took off to Greece. That’s where she found out she was pregnant. She never wanted the baby. The only reason she agreed to try for a baby was because of me.” He cleared his throat and continued, “She wasn’t sure if she’d even continue with the pregnancy. I’m surprised she did. That’s why she didn’t tell me about Nicco until she was already six months along.”
My mind was blown to pieces. “But she didn’t tell any of her family? Or friends?”
Carlo huffed and let out a sarcastic laugh. “No. She was embarrassed. She wanted the whole package. Me, her, and the baby. She wanted the social notoriety of being my wife. What she didn’t want was to be known as not being good enough and getting tossed aside by me. That she couldn’t live with. Knowing she lost.”
Good.
Grief.
Stassia was more demented than even I had imagined. But this was all starting to make more sense now.
“Get her to sign a fierce, iron-clad non-disclosure.” Nick stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed. “Offer her a yearly stipend to keep her mouth shut. It’ll be some positive motivation to stay the hell away from here.”
Holy cow.
Even Nick thought this was a good idea? I couldn’t believe that.
“It’s up to you, Giselle. I’m not forcing anything or anyone,” Carlo touched Nicco’s foot, “on you.”
Eve snuggled in on the other side of me, and let her fingers graze the side of Nicco’s head. “He’s right. Just think about it.”
After that, we all sat around, fawning over a very quiet, very happy, very loved—Nicco. He seemed to soak up all the love and admiration like a dry sponge.
It was the cutest thing ever.
The whole time, I thought about him. And his future.
And what it might look like to raise him as Marcello’s twin. Instead of his half-brother.
Could I really do that to him?
Could I really do that for him?