Chapter 9
have your secrets
brOOKLYN
I crossed my arms at my wrists and leaned forward in my seat, my purse safely on my lap.
Beside me was Marco, who I tried very much to ignore, albeit unsuccessfully with the way the wood pew sounded when he rested his bulging arms on the back of the one in front of us as he leaned forward in prayer.
Even though we sat in the third row, the first two having already been filled by various members of the families by the time we’d come in, I was still afforded an excellent view of baby Nicolo.
The top of his head delicately sprinkled with brown hair.
His brown eyes wide and innocent.
A true symbol of purity.
In his angelic state, he was dressed in an heirloom-style white christening gown that had probably been passed down, worn by each new member of the Deluca family.
It was an article of clothing that would never grace my baby’s body. Because as much as it would be perceived as such by the general public, it was not Marco’s. Nor was it any Deluca’s. It was a Lyons. And a Briggs, which would have to be good enough.
Seemingly torturing myself, I diverted my gaze away from the front, trying to ignore the two families and the priest. But it was no use because there was a single striking thread woven throughout everywhere I looked.
One too impossible to ignore. One I didn’t know if I wanted to ignore. Not fully anyway.
A majority of the guests had children with them. If not multiple, then at the very least, one. However, that was all it took for me to sink into an abyss of despair like it was quicksand. Only, I didn’t fight it. I allowed it to overtake me, drowning in it.
Even when I had been a child, I had refused the help of floaties, so I didn’t see how this was much different.
The only contrast lay in the fact that I had proven to be able to swim on my own and stay above water.
While now, the undertow was violently strong, and I doubted my ability to do so again.
Angelo Morelli sat in the first pew, two children, a boy and a girl, on either side of him.
They were Maria and Dom’s children. Not close in age but seeming to get along just as well.
The girl, Isabella, I believed, wasn’t Dom’s by blood, but he’d adopted her once he’d officially gotten together with Maria.
Regardless, I’d heard he had treated her as his own daughter from day one.
Isabella had been lucky in that way. In a way I wasn’t so sure my own child would be as lucky.
Then there was Allegra Morelli, both of her hands occupied, one holding a man’s who I assumed was her husband, and the other holding the hand of a little girl dressed in an adorable pink frilly dress.
Bianca Morelli was, of course, with her baby girl, who I’d spotted outside the church. Even now, she looked completely captivated by her daughter, her eyes filled with intrigue, like she was seeing the world for the first time through Vera’s eyes.
A woman sitting beside Lisa Marie had two babies, and she was moving them backward and forward in a double stroller, probably looking to soothe them, so they didn’t cause a scene during the ceremony.
Another couple sat next to Capri, a boy on the man’s lap and a girl on the woman’s lap, bouncing their knees as they didn’t peel their eyes from the front.
One man in particular drew me in, though, in a way none of the others had.
Maybe because he was in the first pew, sitting manspread on the edge, his expression unchanging from its stony one.
But mostly because I had a sense of familiarity when my glance crossed him.
He had brown hair, a confident demeanor.
And he was holding a baby wearing a sky-blue shirt with jeans. He seemed like the youngest in the church, second only to Nicolo, of course.
Honestly, I couldn’t get a clear image on the man, but my stomach involuntarily clenched every time I strained myself to figure out what it was about him that had me on edge. Did I know him? Had we bumped into one another? Talked?
Perhaps it was simply a coincidence. Not that I believed in coincidences.
Everything was calculated, planned. And where there was intention, there were strings.
Usually, enough to hang yourself with. Something most of these people in this room were probably familiar with.
The Morellis were just less obvious in it.
Then again, I had heard that the matriarch of the family, Regina, had basically domesticated Angelo with the sweet and wholesome family they created.
As the priest finished the prayer, Marco sat back. “If you’re looking to leave me, you might consider doing it with a man who will actually give you the time of day. The one you seem to have your eyes on happens to be married. They have a son together. You know, the one in his lap.”
My pulse kicked ferociously at Marco’s low, curt tone. I hated his sly sarcasm, but I hated how anything he said echoed in my mind and grabbed hold of me too. “Who is that?” I asked, ignoring the quiet sound of his breathing that would stay with me like a bruise from a fist.
“Reddington Lyons. Jade’s husband.” He clasped his hands together in his lap, cracking his knuckles as the fluorescent lighting hit his gold watch.
I arched a brow, my gaze traveling back to Reddington. “They have a baby?”
“Maximus Lyons. Why?”
“Just curious.”
My child would have a whole other family on their father’s side they would never know. Did I tell him or her about the Lyons family? Their brothers? Did I wait until they asked questions about their father? Who he was? What happened to him?
When silence clung to the space between us like static, I cleared my throat and turned my attention toward the priest, who was saying a prayer.
“No one’s just curious,” he whispered, a rasp at the end of his response as his large, luscious lips skimmed the shell of my ear.
My palms grew sweaty, and I gave in to my desire to look at him.
His expression tightened, his attention unwavering. “Curiosity stems from somewhere, but you don’t have to tell me.” His hand curled at his side. “You can have your secrets for all I care,” he spat out.
That wasn’t true, and we both knew it. Not because I owed him anything, but because if we were going to be stuck together, living together soon, and getting married, secrets were only going to tear at the fabric of whatever little relationship we had.
It was bad enough we had an unhealthy, unnatural start, and I didn’t want to let it grow like mold, spreading and becoming toxic to our health.
Honestly, outside of Capri, I didn’t have many people I could talk to.
It would’ve been nice to have someone else.
Someone outside of my family who didn’t have ridiculously high expectations for me, seeing anything I did as an inconvenience to their overall plan, whatever that plan may have been.
Like my father, for instance. Unfortunately, my mother fell in that category because she was complacent and didn’t want to lose the benefits money bought her.
In fact, she yearned for the connections and prestige as much as my father, making her just as complicit in all of this.
“It is,” I whispered, my voice cracking, quivering before I could get another word out. It is more than curiosity.
His fingers grazed mine at my side, but I didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with whether that was intentional or not. “What do you mean?”
Emotion clogged my throat.
I meant it felt like everything in the universe conspired to remind me I was pregnant. To make me acknowledge it.
I meant I was having a baby.
I meant it was unplanned.
I meant I was scared.
I meant I was not prepared.
I meant I didn’t know if I could be like Maria.
Maria, who was taking baby Nicolo from Jade as he began getting fussy in the middle of the ceremony.
Maria, who looked at her son with a love and affection in her eyes that was undoubtedly obvious from a million miles away.
She was a natural.
She had a maternal instinct I didn’t possess. I knew I didn’t because I had never looked forward to babysitting when I had been younger. I didn’t feel drawn to children playing in the park. I wasn’t going to be a good mom.
I wouldn’t know when they were hungry or they had gas or they wanted attention or they were scared or…or…or…anything at all.
Tears stung at my eyes as the pregnancy test reading positive flashed in my mind like a beacon of light. Except this one was not hopeful. It was filled with despair and dread and horror.
Most times I forgot to feed myself.
I often stayed up too late and regretted it the next morning.
I was never good about watching my intake of alcohol at parties or bars, so I could never be the designated driver.
I was never a friend someone called to get advice.
I was the one who was always in need of advice.
People didn’t depend on me for a reason.
To think I was going to be the only thing keeping this baby alive. Even if I did go through this with Marco, I couldn’t ask him or expect him to have any sort of role in their life.
I would be the only thing they had. Any man, boyfriend, fiancé, husband, it didn’t matter, wouldn’t be the biological father. They wouldn’t feel any type of pull toward the baby or responsibility for it.
This baby would depend solely on me. Because I was their biological mother, and I wasn’t as fortunate as Maria. I didn’t have a male best friend to swoop in and play uncle, only to fall in love with me and want to raise the child as his own.
Oh, gosh, they would be dependent on me for everything.
Panic seized my chest.
But that didn’t equate since I was a little more than selfish. Sure, I had endless devotion to my family, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t expect any less from them. In fact, sometimes I felt like I deserved more, and my actions demanded it.
I made terrible decisions. I wasn’t the greatest judge of character, and even when I had an inkling that something was off, I went full steam ahead in that direction.
My life was far from easy.