Chapter Twenty-Seven
LOLA
I think I'm happy. Obviously, I know I am, there's a smile that keeps popping up and a lightness to my step and heart, but I don't mean that.
I mean the bone-deep, peaceful happiness. The thing that gives me hope I might really have a future with Enzo.
He seems okay with me going to work, and he's gotten exclusive shops booked for after-hour private sprees.
Enzo likes sprees, which is strange. I know his house is state-of-the-art in terms of security, now ratcheted up to Fort Knox standards, but while he has gorgeous suits, I see them for what they are—costumes.
What he wears when he needs to go out into the world as a businessman, someone at the top who's successful and powerful.
The other times, he wears jeans, T-shirts, and sweaters. He's got a few favored hoodies.
Not like how I see Cade dress. For Cade, black with a black hoodie is what he wears. His uniform.
But even so, for all his flash, personality, and moneyed background, Enzo isn't a man who tends to shop like that on a scale. He doesn't get clothes, he orders them delivered, and his walk-in closet is half empty.
He really is a hacker at heart. A tech guy who's got style.
So, when he shuts down some clothing stores, including one for moms-to-be, he insists on buying everything I ooh and ahh over—the things that make me light up inside.
I've pretty much moved into his suite, as mine is full of boxes and bags I haven't opened yet.
Lyndall yawns and just says he's a giver. He has bought her a lot of stuff for her violin. He got her old one fixed by a master, so it sounds even better than it originally did.
Best of all, he doesn't hover at work. In the past week, he comes in when he comes in, but he doesn't text to check in at all. And he listens when I talk.
But is it best, though?
I don't know.
He's giving me everything I asked for, everything I wanted. The space, the time, the freedom.
But...
I miss how things used to be. Miss who he used to be.
Miss it all.
The hovering. The calls. The ironclad grip that trapped me but made me feel safe. The safest I ever felt.
"Hells, Lola, you're a damn mess." I am.
Because I know there's still the matter of his obsession and what it might be down the road.
I'm falling for him. Maybe I'm even in love... The emotions swamp me, then ebb, and I fill up with doubt, only to be swept away again.
Forgiveness, moving on, blank slates. I don't know how to fit in the obsession, the hovering. Because even though I miss it, even though he doesn't do it, I still catch glimpses of it—like certain conversations and looks.
And I can't help wondering if I'm making a mistake.
This is different from how I hesitated when I thought Alex was real. That might have ended with me murdered.
But while I trusted that Enzo wasn't going to go that far, I still hesitated because something shifted inside me, and I wonder if that something was instinct warning me.
Because back then, I could have walked if it got weird or cloying.
Now? I'm pregnant, and the window, even if it's open just a sliver, is shutting. And with it will go any chance of freedom.
A freedom I'm experiencing and that is leaving me feeling both elated and lacking. As if I'm missing something. As if my life is not as good as it was when he was solely focused on me.
But what if it becomes too much?
Running in the early months of pregnancy is vastly different from being the size of a house or having a baby with me.
I don't think I need to run, though.
I'm just jittery.
Right?
Splashing water on my face, I adjust my dress.
It's our first trip to the OB-GYN.
And I'm beyond nervous.
I hang my head. "Breathe," I whisper. "You're a massive knot of hormones."
From beyond the door, Lyndall's voice reaches me. "I've made a list. For things we need for the baby."
There's a pause. I raise my head, turning off the tap, and I wait.
"Baby things. Clothes. Oh, shit. I need to baby-proof everything, don't I? Wait. What do babies need?" Enzo asks, slight terror sliding through his voice.
"Regular things, dude." Lyndall has the confidence of a fifteen-year-old.
"Well, I don't fucking know what regular things are. Do I buy the baby a weapon? It's never too early to start training them, right?"
"I know you're joking, but no. Usually, you wait until they can walk and have more advanced motor skills. And are out of the terrible twos, threes, and probably feral fours and fives."
He breathes out audibly. "Which tie for this suit, Lynds?"
There's silence, and I half-smile, even though my heart is racing after that previous exchange.
Weapons?
At six years of age?
They have got to be kidding.
But I wonder if he's nervous about the appointment. Because he asked which tie. This from Enzo, like he doesn't have every suit detailed in his head down to the cufflinks.
I wanted to go alone, find out my options. Not getting rid of the baby, that is not an option. I'm attached now and maybe always was, because like it or not, it's part Enzo.
Options like what to do if I need to get away, how to be a single mom. Do OB-GYNs do that stuff? Maybe I need a counselor.
And I don't even want to run. It's just... sometimes, I freak out, and after a life of being dependent on Dad, I need to know things. How to do things. Survival things. Just in case... just in case this doesn't work out.
Which makes me feel about an inch tall and rotten to the core.
Then again, I couldn't leave him out of this.
The light and eagerness in his eyes, the way he offered to let me go alone... I couldn't resist that light or deny him. And I don't want to see what he'd do if I took him up on the offer.
Lyndall's voice comes again. "The lavender blue one." A few seconds of silence, and she says, "That's the plum-colored tie, not the lavender one."
"This goes better. So..." He doesn't speak for a moment. "What do I need? What will the baby need? I think I'll do a search online, read some books. Talk to the doctor."
"Or, you know, Lola."
He snorts, and I frown. "I'm helping her, not putting pressure on her by asking."
"But, Enzo, haven't you learned your lesson? There's consulting and sharing, and then there's smothering and controlling."
"I'm not controlling. I just want to have the facts and lists. Okay, what else?"
"You need to think toys. Dolls—"
"Toy trucks and dinosaurs, got it."
"Dolls, for girls and boys, this is a modern world, Enzo. Oh, and games," she says, getting excited. "Mobiles. Babies love those things. I'll be in charge of all music. Mozart is good for the brain. But Chopin, Beethoven, Strauss, Rachmaninoff, and—"
"Focus," he says. "Music—Lyndall. Plus, some old-school Iggy Pop. And I think the baby would like some Nick Cave—"
"And walking aids. Those things on wheels you stick kids in," Lyndall says.
I sort of slide down the door to the perfect temperature of the floor.
She is not done yet. "Oh, and everyone's into helmets and knee and elbow pads for when the baby's learning to walk."
"Slow down, Lyndall. I'm making notes..."
She rattles off an ever-growing list of things, some of which I have never heard of.
Then she moves on to things I know, like white noise machines, air purifiers, and even bottle sterilizers.
She goes on about wallpaper and a mom-and-baby chair.
Changing tables, and even I am drowning, so who knows what Enzo is feeling.
"This is going to be great. I can't wait for her to be born," an excited Lyndall says.
"It's a boy."
"Girl. I can tell."
"We'll bet on it. A boy."
"Girl. A thousand bucks."
"No way."
"See?"
"Fine. If you win, it can go to your Juilliard fund. And when I win, I get the best tickets to your shows."
"Deal."
"How the fuck do you know so much about this shit?"
"Two words. I read."
"Oh, God... stop." I shout it out.
The door opens, and I tumble back.
Lyndall and Enzo look down at me.
"You've broken her. Good one, Lyndall."
"It's okay," he whispers as my leg jumps up and down at a maddening beat.
We are in the waiting room, and I'm unable to sit still.
The room is alive with women in varying stages of pregnancy, and Enzo studies each one like he's taking notes.
My hand is in his, and I don't think he's going to let go.
I don't want him to let go.
But finally, my name is called, and my heart does this weird thing at the name Lola Marino instead of Lola Carino or Lola Mancini.
I huff a breath of air.
Enzo is once more making decisions that he doesn't need to make. A silent bulldozer over my life.
"Sorry. Lyndall confirmed the booking. I..." He meets my eyes. "I honestly didn't know which you'd like. I booked it originally under my name and had you on my insurance."
I nod. But there's really no time to think about it as we have to follow the nurse in.
The room is pleasant, though I really can't think about anything as the doctor does the examination.
Enzo refuses to acknowledge the offer of stepping out for a coffee or a breath of air from the nurse, but he sits in the corner, reading a brochure, not looking.
And it makes it hard to think of anything but the man with me in the impeccable suit, handsome, virile, someone I might love and also might need to run from.
Which I don't want to do.
This isn't about me, it's about my baby.
I step down and take a seat as those same things run in circles in my head. I'm planning for everything. Staying, going, Enzo losing interest. And—
"Lola?" He draws me from my thoughts. "Doctor Warren spoke."
She smiles at us. At me. "As I was saying, it's a little overwhelming with unexpected surprises and your first pregnancy, but you're around nine weeks along, and if you like, you can listen to the heartbeat and see your baby on the ultrasound."
Enzo sits up, and I melt at that.
I want to say it'll just be a thing, but he's so eager, it is infectious.
So, I nod. "We'd love that."
When the gel is applied, and she probes a bit, a fluttering sound fills the room.
"Oh, fuck...I mean, God...would you listen to that strong heartbeat?"
I think he's hearing something different from me. It sounds like a super-fast alien train.
The doctor shows us on the screen as she moves the wand over my mostly flat stomach. "And this is baby. You can see the shape that will be the head right here, and what will be the arms..."
"That's my boy. And he's a handsome thing." Enzo sounds emotional and proud all at the same time.
I don't know how to feel. This makes everything real.
Enzo takes my hand and kisses it. "Look, Lola, isn't our baby incredible? He's going to be amazing."
The conviction and devotion in his voice soothe the twisting thoughts in the back of my head that keep leaping like live wires with clashing emotions.
It's as if, with his unwavering devotion to this baby, he's somehow just killed off the last lingering doubts. I can see his devotion and obsession with me and keeping me safe in a new light. It's him.
He's fierce.
He'll be like that with anyone he loves.
For crying out loud, he wanted to straight-up murder Luke. And I don't condone that, but if the boy had touched Lyndall in any untoward way, then he deserved some kind of punishment. Maybe jail, as Lyndall's a kid and Luke, at eighteen, is a man.
But the thing is, this man loves and protects and will do anything for me, for her, and, most importantly, this baby.
It's like a bright light shining on me.
He's going to be a great daddy who'll do anything to protect us both.
And that? I can get behind.
The car takes us home, and I really believe we're past the worst, and now I can look toward the future and plan with him for our baby.
He gazes lovingly at the black-and-white printout of our baby. "I'm getting this framed. I think we should call him Gaudenzio."
"What?"
"It's a good name. Italian. Strong. What do you want? Fred?"
"It'd be better than that."
He shakes his head. "My great-great-uncle Gaudenzio would want it."
I stare at him. "Who?"
"What about my grandfather? He was Eufrasio. We can call him Frasio for short. It's like Fred."
"No. No way. And it'll be a girl."
"Well, if it's a girl, there's Adalgisa. Very nice."
He cannot be serious. Can he?
"Let's...move away from the Italian names."
But there's no teasing light in his eye, and he's not smiling.
I wince. "There's Bella—"
"I got it. Prudence."
I scoff. "Prudence? Really? That might not be a good name for a little girl."
Enzo looks crushed. "That was my mom's name, and it means a lot to me to honor her memory. If it's a girl."
I swallow. "Oh, well, it's not that bad. And I've seen photos of your mom, she was so pretty. And little girls grow up into names. I think it's a good..."
I trail off as I look at him.
He's fucking grinning, and he starts to laugh, wiping the corner of his eye.
I rip my hand from his and punch him in the arm.
"Ow. Damn, woman. Did you lead a secret life on the underground boxing circuit?"
I glare at him. "You asshole. Snake. Lying python. Argh. That's not your mother's name, is it?"
Enzo laughs out loud. "No. Her name was Maria."
"Monster."
He kisses me. "I just wanted to see how far I could push you."
I shove him. "I'll push you right out the door if you try anything like that again."
"On the road?"
I fold my arms. "Yes. Out the car door and on the road."
"Can I do dad jokes?"
"Maybe. One day."
"You know you can count on me, right? No more secrets, no more lies." He pulls out his phone.
I smile. "What are you doing?"
"Calling the doctor. I've got a list of questions I forgot to ask because Squish here took my attention."
Squish?
He called our baby Squish.
I don't know why, but it makes me believe the worst is behind us.
Enzo and Squish are my future, and I can't wait to share everything life has planned for us.
Together.
Now if only this threat hanging over our heads would just disappear.