31. Arabella
Chapter 31
Arabella
T here’s not much my husband and I don’t agree on, well, apart from what he does for a living, but in some ways, I’ve even come to terms with that.
If someone asked me to describe my marriage in a few words, I’d say loving and harmonious without hesitation. Right now, though, I could seriously strangle him. We’ve been shopping for baby furniture all morning, and to say it’s been stressful would be an understatement.
His back-and-forth, flippant attitude is making my head spin. Just when I think we’ve finally come to an agreement, he suggests something completely opposite, and we’re back to square one. I’m trying so hard to remain calm, but I’m tired and cranky, and my feet are killing me.
Dante Mancini is beginning to grate on my last nerve.
I swear if he makes one more unnecessary assessment, I’m going to junk-punch him. Even the poor sales assistant looks like she’s about to cry, and I swear if she bursts into tears, I might join her.
Dante’s never been so indecisive. He’s a man who knows what he wants and is not afraid to go out and get it, but obviously, that doesn’t apply to baby furnishings .
Yesterday, I hit the twenty-eight-week mark, and our foetus is currently the size of a large eggplant. I rub my hand over my protruding stomach and can only pray the spike in my blood pressure isn’t affecting our baby in any way.
“I love this one,” I say as I run my hand over the smooth, white wooden crib. The turned spindles that line the sides add an elegant charm. The ensemble includes a matching change table with three drawers underneath for storage, and the rocking chair completes the set. It’s designed with comfort in mind, with soft-to-the-touch padded cushions.
My eyes move to my husband, hoping that this is the one so we can go home, but when he screws up his face, my cheeks puff out like balloons as I blow out a frustrated breath.
The way this is going, our child will have to sleep on a mattress on the floor. Actually, my husband will be the one on the floor because the baby will be in bed beside me.
“Umm,” the sales assistant says as she frantically looks around the store for something else to suggest, but we are running out of options. When she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and bites down to hide the quiver, I finally reach my tolerance level.
I hold out my hand, palm facing up. “Give me the car keys,” I snap.
“Why?” Dante asks as his eyebrows pinch together.
“We have been here for hours, and it’s obvious we aren’t going to come to an agreement. When did you become such a snob?”
He rears back like he’s been slapped. “A snob?”
“Yes. This poor girl has wasted her entire morning showing us so many beautiful items, and those stupid faces you keep pulling are not only rude, they are frustrating me beyond belief.”
When my outburst has him smirking, I add in a growl for good measure. This man obviously hasn’t learned a damn thing about how pregnancy hormones work. One minute, I’m fine, calm and collected. The next, I’m on the verge of a breakdown, ready to sob over the tiniest thing, or worse, stab someone. It’s like a switch flips, and everything feels like too much.
I turn my attention to the sales assistant. “I apologise for wasting your time; you’ve been so tolerant and gracious.” My gaze flickers to Dante, and my eyes narrow because I cannot say the same for him.
To my utter frustration, his grin grows. I can’t even with this man right now. He is walking a very fine line.
I straighten my spine, raise my chin, spin on my heel, and begin storming towards the exit. I don’t even wait for him or the keys to the car. The way I’m feeling right now, a long walk home may do me the world of good.
Thankfully, I have three more months to prepare. We only decided to get organised after Chloe and Alexander’s son was born three weeks early.
Lucia and I had flown down to Sydney to help Lina organise a baby shower for her, but the night before the celebrations were to begin, she went into premature labour. It was a scary time for us all, but thankfully, after spending his first week of life in an incubator, little Luca is doing great.
I was so looking forward to the baby shower. I’ve never attended one before, but that was the least of my worries when Chloe’s water broke during dinner. It sent Alexander into a full-blown panic. I thought the poor guy was going to keel over and drop dead; he was so stressed.
“Arabella, wait up,” Dante says, breaking into a slow jog to catch up to me.
When he reaches out to grab my hand, I shake it out of his hold. “If you know what is good for you, you won’t touch me.”
“Jesus, Bellezza . Fuck. Don’t go all boss woman on me now. You know that turns me on. We are in the middle of the store. How’s it going to look if a tent starts to form in my trousers?”
I abruptly stop and turn the top half of my body in his direction. My eyes briefly dart down to his crotch area, and when I notice a slight swell forming in the front of his pants, confirming his prediction, my gaze snaps back to his face. “If you dare bring that thing near me right now, I’m liable to snap it straight off.”
That has him chuckling, which only angers me more. When I release a frustrated huff and start walking again, he follows.
I exit the store, stalk across the carpark and don’t stop, passing straight by our car. “Hey, where are you going?” he asks, reaching out to wrap his hand around my elbow.
“I’m walking home.”
“I don’t think so,” he says, effortlessly swooping me into his arms.
“Put me down!”
“No!”
He somehow manages to retrieve his keys from his pocket without dropping me. He presses the fob to unlock it and uses his knee to help support me as he opens the door and places me inside.
I turn my face away when he grasps the seat belt and stretches it across my torso, clicking it into place. “I love you,” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. “Please don’t be mad at me; I just want our child to have the best of everything.”
Those words have me instantly softening as tears burn the back of my eyes. He is a good husband and will be the best father, but I’ve already decided I’ll be coming back on my own next time to choose the furniture for the nursery.
When we arrive back at the house, I’ve calmed considerably despite still being disappointed that we couldn’t reach an agreement today.
I’m looking forward to setting up the nursery. Dante had Romeo help him empty the room closest to ours. I wanted a blank canvas, so the painter applied a fresh coat of crisp white paint to brighten up the space.
We don’t know what we’re having. Dante was keen when we had the option to find out the sex, but I was not. Papa put so much emphasis on a male heir growing up that I’m petrified I’ll disappoint my husband if I’m carrying a little girl.
Dante reaches for my hand as we climb the front stairs. “Are you still mad at me?” he asks, bringing our conjoined hands to his mouth so he can place a soft kiss on my knuckles.
I sigh, before answering, “No.”
“Good, because there was a reason I delayed us at the store, and it had nothing to do with the furniture.”
I gasp, coming to an abrupt halt. “I take that back; I’m mad at you again.”
That damn grin of his has returned, and when he bops my nose with the tip of his finger, I’m feeling stabby again.
“Save that attitude until later when we’re alone.”
“We are alone,” I counter.
“No, we’re not.” He tugs me towards the front door, and as soon as he opens it, I jump back in fright when everyone yells, “Surprise.”
The foyer is filled with countless smiling faces. Lucia, Lina, Chloe, and the wives of Dante’s men, who I’ve become friends with over the past few months. We now get together regularly for long lunches.
Even through the crowd of people, I can see the sea of pink and blue balloons and streamers in the backdrop.
Is this my baby shower?
The tears I’ve been holding at bay all morning flood my eyes. “Aww, Bell-Bell,” Lucia says, stepping forward to wrap me in her arms. “Don’t cry, this is a celebration. ”
“They are happy tears,” I sniffle as I draw out of her embrace.
I watch as my husband makes a beeline for Chloe. After giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek, he gently lifts baby Luca out of her arms and cradles his tiny body against his chest.
“Come to Uncle Dante,” he whispers as he leans down to place his lips on the baby’s forehead. I swear I hear a succession of tiny pops in among the chorus of oohs and ahhs as the ovaries of every woman in his vicinity explode.
His muscles flex with the effortless strength I’ve always admired, and I love that he shows zero intimidation. The man who strikes fear into others is completely softened by the helpless life in his arms.
He handles baby Luca with both gentleness and protectiveness, like he’s aware of just how fragile he is. It’s such a contrast to the six-foot-three tattooed crime lord.
As all the women step forward to greet me, my husband disappears down the corridor with Luca. I can’t wait to see him holding our child. I pray he loves it just as much if it turns out to be a girl.
I’m quickly whisked into the main room. Balloons in every shade of pink and blue float above, some arranged into clusters while others drift lazily against the walls.
A long table is covered with a pink tablecloth, scattered with blue and pink confetti, and topped with an array of cupcakes and cookies that are decorated to match the theme.
Behind it, a banner reads “Baby Mancini” in bold letters, in a mix of pink and blue lettering. A stack of wrapped presents is off to one side, and a stunning three-tiered cake sits proudly in the centre.
I stand there for a moment, taking it all in. I am astounded at how they managed to pull this off in a few short hours. I feel bad for getting angry at my husband now. He was stalling for a reason, so they had time to orchestrate my surprise.
“Aunty Arabella,” a small voice calls in the distance, and a few moments later, little arms wrap around my waist.
“Giovanni,” I say, looking down at him with a smile as I stroke my hand over his soft, dark hair.
“I helped Mummy, Nonna, and Aunty Lucia put up the decorations.”
“They look amazing. Thank you for helping.”
“It was fun.”
I know I’ve said it before, but I truly love my new life, and I’m so grateful to have Lucia here to share it with. She gets to bask in the love and acceptance of our newfound family.
She’s thriving here with us and claims to officially be over her crush on Romeo. I’m not so sure, though. I catch the longing in her eyes whenever he’s around and she thinks nobody’s watching. If that’s the only kind of heartache she’s going to face moving forward, then I can live with that.
I still get a shiver down my spine when I think about what would’ve become of her at the hands of Giuseppe Salvatori.
As I glance down at my sweet nephew’s cherub face, my heart constricts in my chest. I’ve seen lots of babies in my lifetime, but this is the first time I’ve ever had the chance to hold one before.
I feel so overwhelmed. It’s probably my out-of-control hormones, but I’m finding myself fighting back tears. I can’t believe in a few more months, I’m going to be a mother. I’m excited about the birth of our child, but I can’t help feeling anxious as well. A tiny human is going to rely on me for their survival, and that is a daunting responsibility.
The tip of my finger gently ghosts over Luca’s chubby cheek … he’s so small … so fragile. My eyes move to his cute button nose, then down to his full lips .
When I lift one of his minuscule hands, his little fingers wrap around my own, and my vision becomes blurry.
My gaze flickers up to my husband because I can feel the weight of his stare pressing into me. There’s an endearing smile curving his lips as he watches me interact with our nephew. Is he thinking the same things I did when he was holding him earlier?
Or should I say hogging him?
Every time our eyes locked throughout the day, Luca was in his arms. He handed him over for feeds but then claimed him straight back. Eventually, Alexander had to step in. Their conversation went something like this:
“Right, that’s it, I’m cutting you off.”
“What?” Dante asked with shock lining his voice as Alexander took Luca out of his arms.
“You’re being greedy. He’s my baby; get your own.”
“You’re a douche canoe.”
“A what?”
“A douche canoe.”
“Is that even a thing?”
“Obviously, since you are one.”
“Grow up,” Alexander snapped.
“I was going to call you—” He then mouthed the word “cocksucker” as he flicked his chin towards the baby . “—but impressionable ears and all that.”
“Since when have you cared about impressionable ears?”
“Since I’m about to become a father.”
“Oh, so it’s alright to drop the f-bomb in front of my kid, but not your own?”
When he casually shrugged, I had to turn away and roll my lips to hide my amusement. These two are a constant source of entertainment.
I’ve had the best day. We ate delicious food, laughed, and played silly games, including a nappy relay and baby bingo. It was so much fun. I was showered with the most beautiful gifts, but honestly, it was everyone’s company that I enjoyed the most. It’s a memory I’ll cherish forever.
Our guests have all left, except for our family. They’re staying over tonight, which I’m excited about. Not only do I love our time together, but it also means I’ll get more time to hug little Luca.
Right now, I’m cradling him gently in my arms as the others sit around the dining table, chatting and winding down from the day.
Luca’s little hand is still curled around one of my fingers, and his grip is strong for someone so tiny. His baby smell and his soft, even breathing makes my heart ache in the most tender way. It’s impossible not to imagine my own child at this moment. I find myself wondering what they’ll look like. Will they have Luca’s dark, wispy hair? His little button nose?
I glance around the table, watching my family interact. Dante and Alexander are deep in conversation, probably debating something ridiculous, while Lina and Theo are laughing at a story Lucia is telling them. The love in this room is palpable, and it fills me with a warmth I never want to lose. It’s moments like these that make everything worth it. The chaos, the changes, the unknowns ahead. As long as we have each other, I know we’ll be okay.
“Luca is such a contented baby,” I say to Chloe.
“During the day, yes. But when I’m trying to sleep, not so much. He’s definitely a night owl. It was the same when I was pregnant. He barely moved when I was awake, but at night, it felt like he was tap dancing in my belly.”
“What was Giovanni like as a baby?”
She lifts a shoulder and scrunches up her face. “I don’t really know … I wasn’t around then.”
I gasp. “Wait, he’s not your biological son?” I would’ve never guessed. The bond between them is so strong.
“No, he’s from Alexander’s first marriage. But I love him like he’s my own. I adopted him after Alex and I got married. ”
“Oh.” My eyes move from her to her husband as I try to make sense of what she just told me. “Did Alexander’s first wife pass away?” I ask.
“Hardly,” she scoffs. “She’s still very much alive.”
“I …”
“It’s a long story,” she says. “Basically, Dante convinced her to sign over her parental rights to Alexander, and he’s been with us ever since.”
Dante convinced her?
That revelation shatters the blissful bubble I’ve been living in. The thought that my husband was involved in taking a child away from his birth mother hits me like a gut punch.
This is exactly the kind of thing I feared when I entered this marriage. I know how the Mafia operates, and I can’t help but assume this wasn’t done voluntarily. What mother would willingly give up her child?
And now, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll suffer the same fate if my marriage ever falls apart. Have I been so blinded by Dante’s sweet side that I’ve lulled myself into a false sense of security?