Chapter Fifteen
Marcello
Elio suddenly hates coffee.
Three weeks ago, he drank it black and strong every morning without fail. He said as a bartender, he’d become addicted to the caffeine after years of closing shifts. Now the smell alone sends him lurching for the nearest sink.
His sense of smell has become something of a superpower, but not in a good way.
He can tell what Ornella is cooking from two floors away, and nine times out of ten, it turns his stomach.
He can detect Ginevra’s perfume before she enters a room, and it makes him queasy.
All the normal smells he barely noticed before turn him green.
The one scent he still loves is my cologne.
Thank goodness. I’ve worn it most of my adult life and would hate to switch now.
Luckily, he says it calms him. At night he buries his nose in my neck and sighs with relief.
The scent thing is debilitating, but the fatigue is the hardest part for Elio to handle.
Elio’s always been active, but now he falls asleep without warning.
On the library sofa with a book on his chest or his phone in his hand.
In the passenger seat when Dante drives him to visit Fabio.
It even happened once at the dinner table.
Noemi had to catch him before he drifted face-first into a bowl of minestrone.
His body is also changing. His chest is tender and he winces if I forget and touch him there.
His belly is gently rounded, and there’s a faint darkening line appearing below his navel.
He showed it to me last night with a mixture of fascination and unease.
He ran his finger along it as if it was a seam that might pop open, and when I did the same he laughed because it tickled.
One wonderful part of his pregnancy is he’s extra horny.
He wants sex all the time, and that suits me just fine.
I wake up every morning to his hot mouth on my cock, and he lets me fuck him in the shower each night.
He’s insatiable, and I kind of hope that pregnancy side effect never stops, even after the baby is here.
We could fuck six times a day and I’d never tire of Elio.
The bad dreams he’s started having are the most disturbing part.
I feel helpless when he has one. He thrashes in his sleep, caught in vivid, elaborate nightmares he can describe in startling detail when he wakes.
Last night it was a house with hallways that kept ending up blocked.
The night before, he was caught in the middle of an ocean that was ice cold and slowly rising.
He tells me about them in the dark with his head on my chest, his voice groggy and uneasy.
He’s afraid they’re some kind of premonition of bad things to come.
All I can do is run my hand through his hair, listen, and reassure him that they mean nothing.
We still haven’t told my family about the baby.
Elio wants to tell Fabio first, but his brother is still recovering from his heart surgery.
As soon as he thinks Fabio is strong enough, he’ll tell him about our relationship and the baby.
It’ll be a lot for Fabio to absorb, and I know Elio is worried Fabio might be upset.
But once Fabio knows about the pregnancy, then I’ll be free to tell my family too.
Although, truth be told, I think Mama knows.
She hasn’t said a word, but she watches Elio sometimes with a soft expression.
She’s observant. She’s noticed that Elio declines wine at dinner.
I’ve noticed her running her gaze over his stomach with a knowing smile.
I’m not really surprised. There’s not much that can be hidden from Mama.
Elio has a doctor’s appointment this morning.
We walk into the clinic, shivering against the October chill that’s crept into the mornings.
The waiting room smells like fresh lilies and I notice a vase near reception.
Elio winces at the sweet scent, but then sits beside me without comment.
He grabs a magazine about prenatal nutrition, flipping through it with his knee bouncing.
“Nervous?” I ask softly, putting my hand on his knee.
He gives a weak smile. “How did you know? Just because my foot was about to drill through the flooring?”
“That was one hint, yes.”
He puts the magazine down. Picks it up. Puts it down again. “The baby is probably fine, right?”
“Of course.” I squeeze his knee.
He bites his lip. “You never know though.”
“Once you hear the heartbeat, I think you’ll feel better.”
He looks unconvinced, but he says, “I know you’re right.”
The nurse brings us back to an examination room. Elio changes into the gown, open in the front this time, and then climbs up on the table looking tense. He gnaws at one of his nails, his feet swinging gently back and forth.
Dr. Vasquez comes in, smiling at both of us. “Good morning.”
I incline my head. “Morning, Doctor.”
“How’s the nausea, Elio?”
He grimaces. “Less frequent. I think it may be fading away.”
“Good. That typically eases as we approach the second trimester.” She opens his file and reviews it briefly, then sets it down. “Shall we take a look at your baby?”
Elio nods. He lies back on the table, and Dr. Vasquez opens the gown over his stomach.
He isn’t showing in any way another person would notice.
But I notice because I know his body so well.
There’s now a softness low on his belly, and just beneath his navel a slight firmness.
The quiet evidence of something growing where, a month ago, there had only been skin and muscle.
“That dark, vertical line is called Linea nigra,” she says. “Completely normal. Hormonal. It’ll fade after the baby comes.”
Elio grimaces. “Yeah, I looked it up online because I was kind of freaked out when I first saw it.”
She smiles as she squeezes the gel onto his skin. He doesn’t flinch this time, though his stomach muscles tighten. “If anything ever worries you, you know you can call me with questions, right?”
“I know. It’s just that you’re busy and I didn’t want to wait.” He laughs sheepishly. “I Googled it and felt better. I’d be calling you fifty times a day if I didn’t have the internet.”
“So long as you aren’t worrying too much needlessly about stuff.” She presses the wand to his lower abdomen and the screen lights up, gray and white and shifting.
“When I see him spiraling, I try to intervene.” I lean forward, smiling at Elio. “Sometimes he even listens to me.”
“I listen more than you know.” Elio’s hand finds mine on the edge of the table and grips. “Marcello has to talk me off a ledge at least ten times a day.”
Dr. Vasquez chuckles. “That’s what a good alpha does. Supports his neurotic omega.”
Elio laughs. “I do feel like I’m losing my mind sometimes.”
“That too is normal,” she says just as some shapes begin to appear on the screen of the sonogram machine.
Elio’s fingers tighten on mine as his eyes lock on the screen, searching the shapes for something recognizable. Dr. Vasquez moves the wand slowly, adjusting pressure and angle, her face calm and focused.
“There.” She touches the screen, pointing out a small bright shape inside a dark oval. There’s a flutter of movement so rapid it looks like a tremor. “That’s the heartbeat,” she says.
“Oh, wow,” Elio murmurs, eyes wide.
“You think that’s amazing, just wait.” She laughs, reaches for a dial, and turns it, and sound fills the room.
The sound fills the room in a sudden rush, fast and muffled through the machine. Not the steady, familiar beat of an adult heart, but a quick, fluttering rhythm, almost too rapid to count. Whup-whup-whup-whup, tiny and relentless.
Elio’s hand tightens around mine. He makes a sound, just a raw exhale that catches in the middle, and when I look at him his eyes are bright.
Dr. Vasquez smiles at the screen. “Heart sounds strong and steady.”
Hearing the heartbeat of our child, I’m overwhelmed. I bring Elio’s hand to my mouth and press my lips against his knuckles. He turns his head to look at me. I have no idea what my face is doing, but whatever he sees there softens him.
“Awww, Marcello,” he whispers.
I frown. “What?”
He lifts his free hand and brushes his thumb over my cheek.
Only then do I realize it’s wet.
I didn’t know.
I laugh gruffly, wiping roughly at my face. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
Elio laughs. “You have feelings. You know, like a real boy.”
“I guess,” I grumble, face hot.
“Growth is right on track,” Dr. Vasquez says, not noticing our interaction, or choosing to give us space. “Everything looks great.”
“I’m so relieved,” Elio says. “I’ve been worried.”
She smiles at him. “It would be weird if you weren’t. This is a big deal. You’re bringing a new life into the world. If you just took it for granted, that would kind of undermine the enormity of it all, right?”
“Yeah.” Elio nods, staring at the screen.
My voice is thick as I say, “It’s amazing.” Bringing life into the world is the opposite of what I usually do. I’m more of an escort someone out of this world kind of guy.
Dr. Vasquez says, “I’ll schedule the fetal echo at twenty weeks to check the baby’s cardiac development, but based on what I’m seeing today, I have no concerns.” She prints an image from the screen and hands it to Elio. “First picture of your baby.”
“Thanks.” He takes it with both hands staring at the grainy black-and-white photograph.
She smiles at his awestruck expression. “The sonograms get even more exciting as the baby develops more.”
“I can imagine.” Elio sighs.
She shuts off the machine and wipes the gel from Elio’s stomach. “Everything looks good today. We’ll want to see you again around twelve weeks for the first-trimester screening.”
“We’ll be here.” I stand as Elio sits up.
She addresses Elio as she moves to the door. “In the meantime, keep doing what you’re doing. Eating well, resting, managing stress.” She gives me the same pointed look she gave last time. “Both of you. If the alpha is stressed then the omega is stressed.”