Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
D arcy woke up in the hospital. Clear tubes were attached to her arms, and she was dressed in a thin hospital gown that hung loosely around her neck. Her head throbbed, and her stomach sloshed. But she felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. She considered closing her eyes and falling asleep again.
That was when it all came crashing back—Bobby Ringmaker’s hot breath on her neck; Italian men leering at her and demanding she pitch; Carlotta’s terrifying stare. She was suddenly very awake. A clock on the wall said it was ten minutes after midnight. What day was it? When had she come in? And where was her phone so she could call someone?
Carlotta appeared in the doorway after that. She still wore her regal dress from the party, and her glossy hair shimmered down her shoulders. She clutched a paper espresso cup and did not smile. Still, she came closer and eventually sat in the plastic chair beside Darcy’s bed.
Darcy had the sudden instinct to jump up and run out of there, away from this woman. But she didn’t even know which hospital she was in. She didn’t even know if she was still in Rome.
“Hello,” Carlotta began.
Darcy’s chest seized with fear. What does she want from you?
“When were you going to tell me you’re pregnant?” Carlotta asked. Her eyes snapped.
Darcy’s lips parted. Perhaps the doctor had told Carlotta or perhaps it was obvious. Maybe Carlotta had known for weeks. Perhaps she’d noticed that Darcy never drank in front of her and always got rid of her drinks one way or another.
Darcy raised her chin and reminded herself of what she’d actually learned from Carlotta: bravery.
“I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
Carlotta’s lips twisted up with surprise. She sipped her espresso and clunked the cup on the table beside her. “How many hours have I spent with you? How many hours have I spent honing you? And then I find you flirting with my boyfriend and making a mockery of me by getting yourself pregnant ? I can’t begin to tell you what a waste this has been for me. Me! My hours are precious. I do not bother myself with people like you.”
Darcy kept her eye contact firm. Get away from this woman as soon as you can. She’s unhinged.
Carlotta was on her feet, pacing with her hands behind her back. Darcy eyed the buzzer on the table beside her and considered pressing it to alert a nurse.
But that was when Carlotta said, “I was pregnant once. Five years ago. Probably my last shot at a baby.”
Darcy softened and tilted her head.
“It was Bobby’s, of course. For all my talk, I’ve only ever loved Bobby for the past fifteen years. Not that he’s only loved me.” Carlotta sniffed but still didn’t look back at Darcy. It was as though she confessed to the wall. “I’m sure you can already tell what a playboy he is. He teased me early on about you. He told me he was going to make you fall in love with him.”
Darcy furrowed her brow with disgust. She’d only been nice to Bobby because of Carlotta. Now, she detested both of them.
What a twisted web.
“When I saw you tonight with him, I broke down,” Carlotta said. “And when the doctor told me you were pregnant, everything clicked into place. I remembered…” She trailed off. “Remembered what Bobby told me when we learned about my pregnancy. He told me my career was over. That if I wanted our lives to continue as they had been, I had to get rid of it.”
Darcy was flabbergasted. She bit her tongue to keep from saying so. She wanted Carlotta to say everything she needed to. And then she never wanted to see her again.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Carlotta cried. “I was caught between my love for Bobby, and my lifelong belief that I didn’t want children, and my full-blown career. Some women say they can have it all, but I don’t know how they manage it. Something always falls through the cracks. But I was just about certain I could let those things fall. That I could pick myself up and be a mother and maintain a career. That’s when I found out the baby was gone.” Her voice cracked.
Darcy closed her eyes and felt her wall of anger dissipate. She remembered all of Carlotta’s speeches about women with babies and about women who failed themselves and realized it was all an elaborate act.
Carlotta collapsed back in the plastic chair and rubbed her temples. For the first time since Darcy had met her in May, Carlotta looked her age or very near it.
“Bobby was so happy to hear it wasn’t a problem anymore,” Carlotta murmured. “Some of the things he said to me were so cruel.”
Darcy stuttered. “Why do you stay with him?”
Carlotta gave her a look of surprise. There was a long pause. And then she said, “Who would want me anymore? I’m so old.”
Darcy was shocked. Never could she have imagined Carlotta Gionnocaro having low self-esteem. This beautiful woman seemed to carry the world in her costly purse. With the snap of her fingers, she could have anything she liked.
But Bobby had control over her. Bobby had her wrapped around his finger.
“It isn’t true,” Darcy offered. “You’re beautiful. Bobby doesn’t know what he has. He’d be lost without you.”
After all the cruelty Carlotta had spewed, it should have pained Darcy to be kind to her. But it occurred to her that Carlotta needed Darcy’s kindness far more than Darcy needed her approval. Perhaps it was because of the pregnancy, or Rachelle’s love, or Steven’s—but her relationship with Carlotta was losing its shine.
She would have loved to take the past month back.
But it felt as though she’d learned a worthwhile lesson.
“It’s difficult with men, isn’t it?” Carlotta whispered without making eye contact, talking mostly to herself. “It’s like you’re a plaything for them. It’s like they toss you around and hurl you in the trash the moment they get bored.”
Maybe some men are like that. But not Steven. Never Steven.
Carlotta clutched her face and shuddered with sobs. “I wanted to make you into something, Darcy. I wanted you to have a better life even than me.”
Darcy wanted to tell her that having a baby was something women did all the time. She could still build an app and raise a child; she was prepared to throw herself headfirst into chaos.
But she was pretty sure Carlotta would never understand.
Carlotta had wanted a plaything, too. She’d wanted to dress Darcy up like a doll and parade her around her rich friends. Perhaps she’d seen Darcy as a sort of “daughter,” without any of the love a mother-daughter usually shared. Maybe she was flailing around, looking for a connection.
But Darcy couldn’t offer it to her anymore.
All she could do was forgive and move on.
“You really disappointed me,” Carlotta said as tears spilled from her eyes.
Darcy steeled herself from bowing to Carlotta’s needs. She raised her chin. She wasn’t sorry for disappointing Carlotta. She wasn’t sorry for being herself.
“I wish you good luck,” Darcy told her. She extended her hand like a business professional. To her surprise, Carlotta took it and shook it back. “I’m sure they’ll need you back at your party.”
Carlotta rose from the plastic chair and walked back to the hallway with grace and poise. She paused and glanced back. “You really did save my face that day in May. You remember? Bobby didn’t notice a thing when he saw me. He said I looked prettier than ever.” She bit her lip. “I wanted to save you, too. That’s what this was all about.”
“I don’t need to be saved,” Darcy said. “Have a wonderful night.”
Darcy sat quietly in her hospital bed and listened to Carlotta’s heels clip down the hall. She filled her lungs and pounded her fists on the mattress. Tears spilled from her eyes. It was the first time she’d ever stood up for herself and her beliefs. She felt both older and younger at once, as though she controlled her own destiny.
A nurse came in shortly thereafter. Darcy asked where her things were, and the nurse retrieved her purse with her phone inside. It was now twelve thirty, and Darcy’s phone glowed with numerous messages from her mother, Rachelle, Reese, and Steven.
She read Steven’s first.
It contained a photograph of the sold-out show they’d played last night in Boston. Steven was front and center, thrashing out a guitar solo as the crowd raged. Darcy’s heart filled with joy for him. Underneath the photograph, Steven wrote: can’t wait to see you front row! I love you. Sorry I didn’t write you back yesterday. Jefferson dropped my phone in a puddle, and it just turned back on. (Laughing emoji.) What a mess! Such is the life on a tour.
Darcy’s heart filled. It was twelve thirty in Rome, which meant it was just six thirty wherever he was. She considered calling him but decided the baby conversation was still better after the tour. Let him live this dream a little while longer.
That’s when she read the other messages.
RACHELLE: Everyone is freaking out because Peter was gone! For like hours!
RACHELLE: Nobody knows where you are?
RACHELLE: You aren’t in your room! Are you still at the party?
RACHELLE: Me, Reese, Joel, and Oriana are staying up at the hotel waiting for you.
That last message was just a few minutes ago. Darcy braced herself and called her back. Rachelle answered immediately.
“What the heck?” Rachelle cried when she saw Darcy propped up in a hospital bed. “Are you all right?”
Darcy laughed gently. “It’s been a crazy night.”
Rachelle’s eyes were enormous. Behind her, Oriana, Joel, and Reese drank beers in the hotel bar and gaped at her. Oriana looked on the verge of freaking out.
“Peter’s okay?” Darcy managed.
“He’s upstairs with Tyler,” Rachelle said. “Lauren is here, too.”
Darcy’s head spun with all these dramatic details.
“I’m coming to the hospital right now,” Rachelle told her.
“Me too,” Oriana said. “Joel and Reese, head upstairs to bed.”
Both Joel and Reese protested, but Oriana won.
“Joel, your boys need you. And Reese, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
It was true that Reese was paler than Darcy had ever seen him. Joel’s hair looked wild, as though he’d spent all night pulling it out.
“We’ll hop in a cab and be there soon,” Rachelle assured Darcy. “Sit tight.”
Darcy managed a meek, “I love you.”
Rachelle called back, “I love you, too!”
Darcy sat with the warmth of that message for the next half hour before they showed up. It was a surprise that the nurse even let them in this late. Rachelle said that Oriana spoke Italian and said something swift and lovely that allowed them to breeze right through.
Rachelle hopped up on the bed with Darcy, and Oriana sat beside them with red-rimmed eyes. Darcy knew she’d almost lost her grandson that night. She should have been in bed, too.
After they calmed down a bit, Darcy managed to ask, “Why is Lauren here? What’s going on?”
But Oriana didn’t know anything. “She came back to the hotel with a twisted ankle and refused to talk about any of it. She just held Tyler and cried. She cried until someone called the receptionist with information. A tourist family discovered Peter wandering around, talking to himself, and decided to take him back to their hotel to figure out what to do. All the way back, he was saying ‘Zoon Phonata, Zoon Phonata.’”
“The name of our hotel,” Darcy said with a smile.
“I can’t believe how smart he is,” Oriana breathed. “He was the one who got himself home. It didn’t have anything to do with us.”
Darcy shivered against Rachelle, who cuddled her closer.
“It’s not true,” Darcy said after a pause. “He knew you were waiting up for him. He knew you’d always be right there when he found his way back.”