SAMANTHA
We go to a club called Envy and it’s slam-packed with people. I dance, and I drink ginger ale with lime so no one notices it’s not alcoholic.
I shake my ass and end up having a great time, but by the time the lights come on in the club, I’m exhausted, tottering on my heels from how tired I am instead of how drunk for once.
How did I used to do this all the time? “Piggy back me to the car,” I mutter to Reese, and he snorts.
He stares at me, holding Sofia on one arm. She drank way too much vodka because she’s upset about Dmitri.
“I can’t carry you both!” he whines.
“Come on, you’re the only one not heartbroken in this trio, you have to pull double duty.”
“It’s not physically possible, Sam.”
I groan as Ricardo pulls the car from the parking garage to the club exit. I take off my heels, padding to Ricardo’s car on the concrete sidewalk.
We drop off Reese at Sofia’s place, and I hug them both although I doubt Sofia will remember the night.
I look out of Ricardo’s window. “You feeling okay?” he asks.
I look over at him, frowning.
“Heard you had the flu,” he says, his voice almost sheepish.
“Oh. I’m much better now, thanks.” I offer him a smile.
He smiles back warmly. I really have misjudged him. Papa told me about his mother, and I empathize with him.
“How’s your mom?” I ask quietly.
“New round of chemo has her sick as a dog, but doctors say it’s working,” he says, letting out a breath.
“That’s good news.”
“It is. I just wish she felt better.”
I nod. “Chemo’s really hard. Mama did three rounds before she…” I trail off. I don’t want to make him worry.
“I think it’s really going to work this time. It’s her second.”
“I’ll be thinking about her.”
“Thank you.” He pauses. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah. I’m…good. I wanted to ask you something, though.”
He glances at me at a red light, rubbing a hand over his receding hairline. “Shoot.”
“I have a doctor’s appointment soon. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I need a pap smear,” I lie. “I don’t want Papa to worry, it’s just routine… will you take me?”
He frowns. “Why don’t you want him to know?”
I sigh. “Ever since Mama passed, Papa hasn’t really trusted doctors. We’ve always used Doc, but this is something I definitely don’t want him to do.”
Ricardo snorts. “Fair enough. I’ll be happy to take you.”
I grin at him. “Really? I appreciate you, Ricardo. It’s on Monday at four.”
“I’ll be here to pick you up at three, then.”
We arrive at home and I impulsively reach across the car console and kiss his cheek.
“Thanks again.”
Ricardo flushes a deep red but doesn’t respond. He’s not so bad, after all.
I sigh heavily as I walk inside and nearly fall on my face, tripping over a pair of long legs that are stretched out. I stumble but right myself, bracing myself on the couch arm.
I look down to see Dante half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, a quarter-empty bottle of scotch on the table with an empty glass. The air smells acrid and it almost makes me gag.
I can’t help watching him sleep for half a moment. Bags lie heavy under his eyes, his olive skin paler than usual. He looks thinner, his chest not quite as broad. Tears spring to the backs of my eyes.
I reach down, try to shake him awake. Nothing. I shake him harder and he grunts, blinking up at me with glassy blue eyes. “Samantha?”
Before I can process, he reaches out and grabs me around the waist. Pulls me down into his lap. I sit there for a moment, stunned, his chest warm against my side, arms strong around me. “Dante–”
He lets me go, blinking again and rubbing a hand across his face. “Fuck. Sorry. I was… dreaming.” He pauses. “How was your night?”
“Good,” I say, standing up, straightening out the hem of my dress. His eyes flicker down to watch the movement but then right back up to my eyes.
“Just good?”
“Just good, Dante. What are you doing down here?”
He gestures to the television. “Was watching the new episode. Have you seen it?”
“No,” I say flatly. I haven’t been able to. Makes me think of him. Of a time we were almost…
Well. Almost.
He looks up at me, searching my face. “Do you hate me, tesoro?”
A sob hitches in my chest. “No.” I turn around so he won’t see tears slip down my face, and I walk toward the stairs. “I’d have to care to hate you. And I don’t. Not anymore.”
He draws in a sharp breath but I don’t look back, taking the stairs two at a time.
I make it onto my bed before I burst into sobs. It’s only a few moments before I’m lurching out of bed to throw up ginger ale and crackers into the toilet.
Damnit. I don’t know why they call it morning sickness, because I’m sick all the time. I’m sure part of it is the stress of the breakup, but I’m still worried. Monday can’t come soon enough.
I wait an hour before I walk out of my room, sure that Dante will have gone up to his room by then.
But as I reach the top of the stairs, I see the tv flickering.
It’s quiet. Too quiet. Did he pass out again?
I huff out a breath, quietly padding down the stairs. A hitched breath makes my feet stutter.
“Fuck.” I watch as Dante wipes at his face angrily, and something twists in my stomach.
I might throw up again. He stands up, bracing himself on the couch, and looks down at the open bottle of scotch.
Don’t.
My heart is in my throat.
He caps it and takes it back to the bar unsteadily. I let out a breath of relief, but then he turns toward the stairs and meets my eyes.
His are too-blue even in the dim light, wet and full of something I can’t put my finger on.
I wrench my eyes away from him and all but run up the stairs and into my room.
Monday rolls around and I don’t see Dante again. He’s just holed up in his room. I could sneak out, if I wanted to. Ricardo doesn’t watch me the way that Dante does.
But where would I even go? It’s not like I have a boyfriend to visit, and Reese and Sofia come here anytime I want.
Besides, I’m too tired to go out. The baby has me sleeping an extra four hours every day for a nap. I’ve done some internet research and they say it’s normal, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying.
Ricardo arrives at three, as promised. I’m already waiting outside. I walk to the car, slide into the passenger seat, and give him a weak smile. “Thanks again. Do you think we could swing by and pick up Sofia? For… you know, moral support.”
Reese wanted to go, too, but I couldn’t think of a reason to take my male best friend to a pap smear.
“Sure.”
Sofia climbs into the backseat, looking hungover. I don’t ask questions. Don’t want to mention the name of a member of the Bratva around Ricardo. If it gets back to her father…
Well. It won’t be pretty.
Ricardo waits in the car as Sofia and I head inside, arm in arm. “Are you nervous?” she asks quietly as we sign in and sit down.
“Terrified. What if something’s wrong?”
“It’s going to be okay,” she says, squeezing my arm with hers. We finally disentangle when the nurse calls my name.
I hate the doctor’s office just as much now as I did when Mama was sick, it turns out.
The clinical smell of bleach makes my stomach roll, but I manage to keep down my breakfast—dry toast and a boiled egg. Sofia helps me into the stupid gown and I’m trying not to cry.
“It’s okay,” she says softly. “You’re not sick. Just pregnant.”
I hitch in a breath. It’s like she knows exactly where my head is at. I take her hand as she stands next to the exam table and squeeze it hard. “Thank you for being here, Sofia. It means a lot.”
“Where else would I be? Reese texted. Says he hopes the baby doesn't have a big head like Dante.”
I snort out a laugh and it makes me feel lighter. “Of course he did.”
The ultrasound technician comes in first. “Do you know how far along you are?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I estimate about two months. Maybe three.”
She tilts her head. “I guess we’ll start with a vaginal ultrasound.”
I make a face. “That doesn’t sound very fun.”
She laughs. “It’s not. But it’s the only way to see the fetus when you’re this early. Were you on any birth control?”
I give her a sheepish smile. “Had an implant in my arm.” I show it to her. “But I kind of missed my last few appointments to update it.”
“That’ll do it.”
The ultrasound is uncomfortable but not as awful as I’d imagined, and Sofia holds my hand through all of it.
There’s nothing on the screen for the longest time as she presses the wand into me almost painfully, and then I hear it.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh.
“What’s that?” Sofia breathes.
The tech smiles. “That’s the heartbeat. Strong and steady.”
I peer at the screen, seeing practically nothing. She points at a speck, just a little peanut on the screen. “That’s the fetus. The doctor can tell you more about how far along you are.”
The heartbeat comforts me. Whoosh whoosh whoosh. “It’s okay, though?” I ask, tears slipping down my cheeks.
She looks at me. “I’m not supposed to say but… between you and me, it looks perfectly healthy.”
I let out a broken sob and Sofia puts an arm around me, hugging me. “We’re having a baby.”
“Are you… partners?” the ultrasound tech asks, and Sofia peels out a laugh.
“Might as well be,” I crack. “She’s the daddy.”
Sofia curls her bicep and I dissolve into giggles through my tears. The ultrasound tech looks slightly confused at my hysterics but then she just smiles. “Good for you.”
It only makes me laugh harder, and eventually the ultrasound tech leaves.
Me and Sofia slowly sober. The doctor comes in and he gives me a cursory exam before smiling at me.
“I’m Dr. Yeoman. It’s lovely to meet you. The fetus seems to be developing normally for around seven weeks. Have you thought about your… options?”
He’s being diplomatic. “I want to keep it,” I say quickly. “I just need to know if it’s healthy.”
“It is,” he assures me. “Strong heartbeat. Limb buds.” He hands me a series of printed ultrasound pictures, pointing at the little buds. They’d been flailing around while the ultrasound was being done. “Your due date should be around August sixteenth, give or take.”
August. It’ll be hot. Sweltering. Papa often goes overseas in the summer. Maybe I can convince him to send Dante instead. By then, all of the drama with Ricci will be over. Hopefully.
“Thank you so much,” I breathe.
“Avoid caffeine, no alcohol of course, and be careful with stress.”
I nod.
“Other than that, you seem perfectly healthy and so does your baby. Congratulations.”
Hilariously, he shakes Sofia’s hand, and it’s all I can do not to burst into giggles again.
They might just throw me in the psych ward.
I look down at the ultrasound pictures in utter shock. This is really happening. It feels real now in a way that it didn’t with just the pregnancy tests.
“Are you okay?” Sofia asks for what seems like the thirtieth time this week.
“I am, actually,” I say slowly, stuffing the ultrasound pictures into my purse. I get dressed and pay the bill, scheduling another appointment for twenty weeks. It seems like a long time from now, but it’ll go fast.
I need to make some kind of plan.