33. Dante
Chapter 33
Dante
I t’s 4 am, and I’m sitting on the side of the bed, Googling “Persistent back pain at the end of the third trimester” as my wife paces back and forth in front of me.
She has been tossing and turning all night, unable to get comfortable. Hence, the pacing.
“Oh God,” Arabella groans as she pauses and bends forward, clutching her stomach.
“Fuck, Bellezza , are you okay?” I ask, flinging my phone onto the bed and springing to my feet. “What’s going—” My words die out when she looks down, and I hear the faint trickle of water hitting the floor. It’s the softest sound, but it stops me cold.
“Oh, no. I think my water just broke.”
“Lucia,” I scream.
I lift my wife into my arms, cradling her bridal style as the panic hits full force. I’m now feeling like an arsehole for making fun of Alexander when this happened to Chloe because he’s right; it’s a totally different story when it’s your wife and child.
“Lucia!”
It feels like an eternity passes before she comes barrelling into our bedroom. When she notices Arabella in my arms, she comes to a screeching halt. “What’s going on?”
“Her water just broke,” I blurt out. “The baby’s coming.”
“Holy crap.”
“Don’t just stand there,” I snap. “Do something.”
“Do what?”
“Fucked if I know.”
“Calm down,” Arabella says in a voice too soft and controlled for my liking, especially when a full-blown war rages inside me.
I knew this day was coming, but I didn’t expect it to be right now. I’ve been psyching myself up for the past two weeks, but I’m realising that I’m in no way prepared.
I’m not going to lie; as the due date crept closer, my anxiousness grew, but in true, stubborn Mancini style, our child decided it was not arriving until it was well and truly ready.
Arabella is currently two days overdue. The doctors booked her in to be induced at the end of the week, but I guess that’s not happening now.
“I don’t know what to do,” Lucia cries as tears fill her eyes.
“You’re a woman; shouldn’t this shit come naturally?”
“That comment is both sexist and offensive. I haven’t even had sex. I don’t know the first thing about giving birth.”
“What about those books you read? If the characters are fucking all the time, surely one of them is bound to get knocked up sooner or later.”
Her eyes narrow as she opens her mouth to reply, but when Arabella doubles over in pain again, we both freeze. The blood-curdling scream that follows sends shivers coursing down my spine.
“Do something,” I plead as my panicked gaze moves back to Lucia.
“I don’t know what to do, Dante.”
“Call an ambulance,” Arabella grumbles .
“Okay … I can do that,” Lucia replies. “I’ll go get my phone.”
“Use mine, it’s on the bed,” I tell her.
When the pain passes, Arabella wiggles in my arms. “Put me down.”
“No!”
“Put. Me. Down,” she growls, and her tone is so ferocious I find myself immediately complying.
“What’s the phone number? Nine-one-one?”
“Give me that,” Arabella snaps, snatching the phone out of her sister’s hand.
“What was that for?” Lucia asks, frowning.
“It’s triple zero here in Australia,” I chime in. “Nine-one-one is the emergency number for America.”
“Oh.”
“You two may as well go back to bed; I’ve got this,” Arabella says, rolling her eyes as she brings the phone to her ear.
I rear back as her words cut through my panic like a sharp knife, grounding me. She needs me, and here I am, letting my fear take control. I should be her calm in the storm, her rock, the one she can always rely on. Instead, I’m acting like an emotional fucking mess.
I gently—and dare I say dubiously—take the phone out of her hand and guide her towards the bed. “Sit,” I order. “I’ll handle things from here.”
“Are you sure?” she asks sarcastically, arching one of her perfectly sculptured brows.
“Yes,” I answer with confidence. “Have I ever let you down, amore mio ?”
“No.”
“You and our child are my life, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect either of you.”
Famous last words, because when she doubles over in pain again, I quickly hand the phone off to Lucia and drop to my knees.
I can’t even help her breathe through the contractions because we only attended one Lamaze class. That was Arabella’s decision, not mine. She claimed the woman instructor and some of the other mothers were looking at me like I was something to devour. I agreed it was safer for everyone involved if we didn’t return.
“When was her last contraction?” Lucia asks.
“Just now,” I snap, glancing at her over my shoulder. “Are you blind?”
“There’s no need for the snarky attitude,” Lucia bites back as her eyes narrow to slits.
“She just had one,” I hear her relay to the dispatcher. “The one prior was only a few minutes?—”
Lucia’s words are cut off when Arabella gasps, her voice trembling. “Oh God, I can feel the head … it’s coming, Dante. What are we going to do?”
The tears in her eyes and the sheer terror on her face should be enough to break me, but instead, they steel my resolve.
“I’ve got this, Bellezza . Lie back.” I gently ease her down, lifting her nightgown and bunching it around her hips. “Lift up,” I instruct, reaching for the waistband of her underwear.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting ready to deliver our baby.”
I’m a little offended when she does the sign of the cross and begins reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Italian, but I swallow the sting, pushing the hurt aside.
This is about her … about them .
I guide her legs apart, ignoring the nagging fear creeping up my spine. I have no clue what I’m doing, but fuck, how hard can it be?
“Shit,” I murmur under my breath when I see she’s right. The baby is already crowning. Time isn’t waiting for us. There’s no going back now.
I take a deep breath as my hands shake slightly, but I steady myself. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
The pressure in the room grows heavier as I focus on what needs to be done. There’s no room for doubt, only action.
“How far is the ambulance away?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Lucia replies before placing the call on speaker and moving the phone closer to me.
“The baby’s coming.”
The dispatcher’s voice is relaxed but firm. “Sir, we need you to stay calm. Can you see the baby’s head?”
“Yes,” I grunt, my eyes widen as I confirm what I already know. “It’s crowning.”
“Okay, listen carefully,” the dispatcher continues. “You need to support the baby’s head as it emerges. Make sure the umbilical cord isn’t wrapped around the neck. Don’t pull, just guide. Is there a towel or cloth nearby?”
I glance around. “I’ll find something.”
“I’ll go grab one,” Lucia says, dashing towards the en suite.
“You’ll need it to gently clean the baby’s face once it’s out.”
“Okay.”
“Here,” Lucia says, placing a pile of neatly folded white, fluffy towels on the bed beside her sister.
“We have the towels,” I say to nobody in particular.
“Do I need to push?” Arabella’s shaky voice asks.
“Not yet,” the dispatcher replies. “Let me know when your next contraction begins.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice cracking.
I reach for her hand, and the way she squeezes it in return tugs at my heart. I lean down and plant a soft kiss on her stomach. “You’re doing great, amore mio .”
“You are, Bell-Bell. You’re doing so good,” Lucia adds as she climbs onto the bed and kneels beside her sister, sweeping the hair off her forehead.
“When it’s time for your wife to push, get ready to support the baby’s head until the shoulders are free. Once the shoulders are out, you can gently guide the baby the rest of the way, but keep its head lower than its body to help clear the airways.”
“Okay,” I reply, even though her words scramble around in my head. My throat tightens, but I somehow manage to steady my voice. “I’ve got this.”
“Stay calm. The ambulance is en route. You’re doing great.”
Arabella’s body begins to tremble as I release her hand and reach for a towel, shaking it open. “Dante, I’m scared.”
“I’m here, Bellezza ,” I say softly as my eyes never leave the crowning head. “You’re doing amazing. Just breathe for me, Tesoro .”
I guide Arabella through each breath, each push, and with a final gasp, the baby’s head slips free.
A knot forms in my throat and tears burn the back of my eyes. I stare down in awe at my child as I cradle its tiny head in my hands.
When it’s time for the final push, the dispatcher reminds me to support the baby’s shoulders. I remain hyperfocused … I’m ready.
Moments later, the room is quiet except for Arabella’s ragged breaths, then the soft cry of our newborn joins in.
Tears well in my eyes as I look down at the tiny, perfect life in my hands before my gaze returns to my wife. I’m so proud of her. “You did it, amore mio .”
“We did it,” she says with a soft smile. The emotions that flood through me in this moment overwhelm me. Words can’t even express how much I love this woman.
“The ambulance is pulling up at the front gate now,” the dispatcher says. “Is the front door unlocked? ”
“No.”
“I’ll go unlock it,” Lucia says, clambering off the bed.
“Call the gatehouse and have one of the guys escort the ambulance up to the house.”
“Okay,” she says, dashing out of the room.
I’m mesmerised by the squirming form in my hands, and a rush of emotions floods me all at once. This fragile little being is mine. The protective instinct in me has sharpened already, entirely focused on this small, helpless life that now depends on me.
Arabella pulls herself up onto her elbows. “Can I see?”
The tears are now falling down my face as I lift our little girl up, my heart swelling with a love I can’t even put into words. “Meet your daughter.”
“My daughter?” Her voice wavers, and I watch as all the colour drains from her face. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry?” I repeat, confusion twisting in my gut.
“I … I wanted so badly to give you your son … your heir.”
Her words hit me like a sucker punch, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. Is that why she never wanted to know the sex of our child, or was hesitant to discuss baby names?
“Your father wanted that, Arabella … never me.”
She looks at me with wide, uncertain eyes. “You don’t care that we had a girl?”
“Fuck no,” I say, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “And I’m a little offended you thought I would be.”
Her gaze shifts downward, and I instantly feel like an arsehole. “Arabella,” I murmur softly as I cradle my daughter against my chest, freeing one of my hands so I can lift my wife’s chin, making her meet my eyes. “I’m happy. Deliriously happy. This little girl is everything I never knew I needed. And that’s the God’s honest truth. Nothing else matters.”
I sit beside my wife’s hospital bed with her hand clutched in mine as I observe my brother holding, or should I say, hogging, my daughter. I’m giving him five more minutes; then I’m cutting him off like he did with me and Luca at the baby shower.
Two can play that game.
It’s midday, and my wife has just finished a feast of all her favourite dishes that I had one of my restaurants hand deliver. She thought it was overkill, but she needed all the sustenance, in my opinion, after everything she went through earlier.
Although the events of this morning are well and truly behind us, I’m still riding my high. Bringing my little girl into this world is a moment I’ll never forget. A definite highlight in my life. I also got the added benefit of gloating about delivering my own child the moment Alexander and his family arrived.
I texted him on the way to the hospital since it was still early, but he called me straight back to say he would organise a flight and would be here as soon as he could.
I could have told him about my newly found midwifery skills then and there, but I wanted to see his face. He didn’t disappoint.
“Do we have a name yet?” Chloe asks.
I steal a quick glance at my wife as I raise our conjoined hands to my mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. Her soft green eyes have been fixated on me all morning. It’s like I’m suddenly some kind of rock star. Sure, I came through in the end, but she was the one who did all the hard work. She’s the one who deserves all the praise and admiration.
“Yes,” I say, my eyes returning to my brother. “We named her Caterina Gabriella Mancini.”
“You named her after Mamma?” he asks, his voice cracking as he speaks.
“She’s named after both our Mamma’s,” Lucia answers .
“Yes. It was Arabella’s idea. Gabriella was her and Lucia’s mother’s name.”
I see a smile curve on my brother’s lips as his eyes move back to his niece. When he leans down and places a soft kiss on her forehead, that damn knot in my throat returns.
I have all my family right here with me, including Lina, Theo, and Romeo. I rode in the back of the ambulance with my wife and daughter this morning, and when I told Lucia I’d organise one of the guards to bring her to the hospital, she told me there was no need. “I’ve already texted Romeo; he’s on his way to get me now.”
When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I slide my hand in to get it. I’m expecting to see another congratulatory text from one of my men, but my heart drops into the pit of my stomach when I look down at my screen.
Roberto: Giuseppe Salvatori and a group of his men just boarded a plane bound for Australia.
Fuck!