19. Samantha
SAMANTHA
I don’t leave my room for a week. Maria’s kind enough to bring meals, although I can’t keep much down anyway. I subsist on crackers and ginger ale and the occasional sandwich.
I learn that the baby doesn’t like strong smells like onions or garlic.
I cover my tracks by telling Maria I have the stomach flu. And it sure looks like it, with how pale and nauseous I always am.
The heartbreak doesn’t help. It makes my stomach feel empty even when I’ve eaten.
Papa came to visit me the day he got back from Doc’s, knocking softly on my door.
“Yes?”
“It’s me. Can I come in?”
I scrambled out of bed and unlocked the door. He wore a sling over his right shoulder, but he looked okay, and tears instantly sprang to my eyes when he pulled away, frowning at me. “Are you alright, cara mia?”
I sniffled. “Just a little under the weather. Don’t get too close, you might get sick.”
He frowned deeper. “I have the constitution of an ox. I never get sick. Your mother was…” He trailed off.
I swallowed hard, thinking about my mother. Her kind brown eyes. How she’d let me perch in her lap, hug her close while she sang to me when I had a bad day. Even when I was too big to do it.
God, I wished she was here.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, trying to change the subject before I burst into sobs.
He smiled. “Can’t keep me down for long.” Papa waved his arm around. “Like the new look?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Better than a body bag.”
“That’s what I told Doc.”
That made me chuckle and Papa smiled at me. “You’re sure you’re okay? Just sick?”
“Yeah,” I said shakily, and he ushered me back to bed. I laid down, facing away from him so that he couldn’t see me cry.
Papa sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing my back, humming lullabies to me until I stopped crying.
“You know you can tell me. If something’s wrong.
Whatever it is.” His voice was soft and warm, and for a split second, I thought about it.
Spilling all of it. Dante, how I fell in love, how he didn’t choose me.
How I fell pregnant, how I wanted this baby more than anything.
How every day it grew inside me I loved it more.
“I’m okay,” I said in a small voice, and Papa didn’t push. He hesitated in my room for a while, as if he didn’t want to go, as if there was something more he wanted to say to me.
But in the end, he didn’t say anything else.
“I’lll have Maria bring up something you can keep down.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
He nodded and paused at the door. “I love you, cara mia.”
A sob caught in my throat. “I love you too, Papa.” When he left, a fresh batch of tears poured down my face.
But as time goes by, I start to become more and more determined.
The first week, I don’t even contact Reese and Sofia.
They text me, but I ignore it. I can’t rehash what happened with Dante right now.
I can’t even think about it without sobbing so hard I throw up. And the stress can’t be good for the baby.
So I just… sit with it. And Dante doesn’t so much as knock on my door. It proves he never cared. Not like I did, anyway.
I exit my room stronger than before, my stomach slightly bloated from the baby but not noticeable.
There are things I need to do. Like schedule a doctor’s appointment.
My weekly allowance is more than enough to pay cash for it so that Papa won’t find out.
Besides, I’ve been storing away half my allowance for a while now for a rainy day fund, the cash pressed under my mattress.
If there’s ever been a rainy day, it’s now.
I hate doctors.
Hospitals.
We went to so many when Mama first got sick. She was terminal from the day she was diagnosed, a fast growing form of breast cancer.
There were surgeries.
Chemotherapy.
Months and months of different cold, sterile environments, before Mama finally got Papa to stop fighting.
To let her go.
Then she was home, and I still can’t walk past her room, the one she died in.
But I”ll have to suck it up. I want my baby to be healthy and happy, even if I can’t be.
I can do this by myself. I have to.
I make an appointment with a reputable OB, according to my internet research, and it’s two weeks away.
I plan to see if Sofia or Reese or both can go with me. The first day I exit my room, I don’t see anyone but Maria at first, and I’m grateful.
She smiles at me. “You’ve joined the land of the living again.”
I give her a weak smile back. “Turns out I have. Thank you for being so kind while I was sick.”
She scoffs, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s my job.” Maria places a breakfast plate in front of me. “I’m afraid your father’s already eaten, and Dante doesn’t seem interested in my cooking anymore.”
I stiffen at the mention of Dante’s name, but I just dig in, praising the taste to make her feel better.
Once I’ve eaten my first full meal in a week, I’m afraid I’m going to throw it all back up, but I don’t, and my stomach feels delightfully full in a way it hasn’t in a long time.
I take in a deep breath before I head out to the pool, wearing a one-piece with a coverup instead of my usual string bikini. I don’t need anyone getting any ideas because my body is changing, although slowly.
Thank God I was already curvy before this. If I’d been tall and thin like Sofia, it’d be obvious that something was afoot.
I sit at the edge of the pool, looking down at the thread of text messages Reese and Sofia had sent me in the group chat. Mostly supportive. Some worried. Come over? I text.
They both agree immediately and I feel a little bad for worrying them. But I have to get through this, and this is the only way I know how.
I’m in almost a good mood as I walk back toward the house to watch for them and open the gate.
Technically, they know the gate code, but Papa isn’t supposed to know that, and he’s home recuperating. My feet falter as I see a figure leaning against the brick of the back of the house. It’s big enough that I know instantly it’s Dante.
I want to turn back around. Dive into the pool. To hell with Papa finding out they know the gate code. He won’t stay mad forever.
But I can’t avoid this forever, either. My stomach rolls and I take in a few deep breaths through my nostrils before I keep walking, my head down.
I can’t help but glance up as I walk by, and I notice he’s chewing on something that looks like a toothpick. Curious, the words come out of my mouth before I can think twice.
“What are you doing?”
Dante jerks his head up at my voice. He’d been looking down at the ground. His eyes meet mine, flashing once before going blank like usual. He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, spitting out the toothpick.
“Smoked cigarettes when I was younger. A lot of them. Three packs a day. I finally kicked the habit but sometimes, when I’m stressed… it’s hard. This helps.”
I look at him for a long moment, fighting not to search his expression for some kind of reaction. Hurt. Anger. Anything. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Like he said, it doesn’t matter what he wants. What I want. What matters is what we choose.
He didn’t choose me.
I choose myself. And this baby.
“Maybe I’ll pick up the habit,” I mumble, and keep walking, giving him a wide berth.
Dante hesitates. “Samantha.” His voice is low. Broken. My feet falter again, and then I grit my teeth and keep walking.
I don’t feel like I can breathe again until the intercom buzzes. The calvary is here. I grin and press the button to let them in, running outside to greet them.
Reese scrambles out first, grabbing me in a big bear hug and swinging me around. I giggle wildly and it sounds strange to my own ears. I haven’t laughed like that since the last time they were here.
He finally puts me down, grinning at me, and Sofia walks up, carrying her huge purse that she brings here every time.
We used to hide liquor in it when we were teenagers. Now, it contains a bottle of wine for them and a bottle of sparkling cider for me with the label rubbed off, so that it looks like I’ll be drinking too.
“You’re a smart cookie, Sofia,” I say when she shows me. We head out to the pool house. Dante is gone. I tell myself I’m not looking for him. I grab wine glasses on the way out of the back kitchen door, and we walk down to the pool slowly. “So, how are things?”
“Well, we’ve switched around,” Sofia says glumly. “Vaughn and Reese are back together, but me and Dmitri are on the outs.”
I perk up at the drama. “On the outs? What happened?”
She sighs. “Papa almost caught us. Again. I got spooked. You know Papa will kill him if he finds out. Hell, he might kill me.”
“You broke it off?” I ask incredulously, surprised. Sofia has been gone for Dmitri for years.
She nods sadly. I take her hand and squeeze it. Usually I’d tell her she’s being stupid. That she should follow her heart. Rebel against her father. But given my current situation…
“I’m sorry.”
She keeps hold of my hand and we sit together at the edge of the pool, all three of us, dangling our feet in the water as we drink from Mama’s crystal wine glasses. I glance over at Reese. “You and Vaughn, huh?”
“Yeah, well, it’s only because Luciano’s out of town,” he hedges. “I feel like she’ll dump me all over again when he’s back, so I’m not getting my hopes up.”
Sofia looks at me curiously. “What about you? Why’d you go ghost?”
I draw in a shaking breath. “It’s over. He ended it a week ago.”
“The day you found out you were—” Sofia screeches and I kick her in the water.
“Shh,” I hiss. “Maria’s still cleaning up after breakfast. She’ll hear you.”
She nods, taking in a breath. Sofia’s always been protective when it comes to me.
“I’ll kill him,” Reese says darkly, and I snort out a laugh.
“Please, Reese. You’re many things but you’re not a fighter.”
“But he deserves it!” Reese insists. “He ended it after you told him—”
“I didn’t tell him.”
They both go silent, staring at me with wide eyes. I sigh. “He ended it before I could. And I’m sure as fuck not telling him now.”
“You can’t hide this forever, Sammy,” Sofia warns, pointedly looking at my belly.
“I’m already chubby, I can hide it longer than you think.” There’s an edge of defense in my voice.
“But your father–”
“After all this is over with Luciano, I’ll tell him,” I promise. “By then, Dante won’t be on my security detail anymore.”
“You don’t think Dante is going to put it together when he finds out you’re expecting?” Sofia asks, her voice lower.
I frown. I hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll figure something out. I’ve got some time. Cross that bridge when I get to it, right?”
Sofia smiles a bit. “So you do listen to me.”
“On occasion.”
Reese huffs. “I still want to kill him.”
I pat his back, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I love you for wanting to.”
We sit and sip in comfortable silence for a while, me holding Sofia’s hand in my lap, my head on Reese’s shoulder. I’m so grateful for them I could cry all over again.
But I’m pretty sure my body has completely run out of tears.