Chapter 9 #2
My airways felt like they were closing, and I was finding it harder and harder to breathe. The simplest of things, and I thought I might pass out from not being able to get the oxygen I needed.
I couldn’t be too sure because everything started to appear a bit blurry, and my hearing became slightly impaired, but I thought perhaps Marco whispered something in my ear. What it was exactly, I didn’t have the foggiest idea. I might never know what it was he said.
All I did know was that Dom was staring over Maria’s shoulder, watching her and their baby in rapture.
He was probably thinking something similar to what was going through my mind, which was how she didn’t have a selfish bone in her body.
She couldn’t have. Everything about her exhibited compassion. For others, even strangers.
It felt like someone pierced an arrow through my heart, and I gripped the edge of the pew where I sat.
Physically, I didn’t think I could take much more.
Emotionally, I felt drained, but the shriek burning in my throat, begging to come out, told a different story. That I was nowhere near done in my emotional feat.
Mentally, I couldn’t keep putting myself through this.
As Jade and Vito rejected evil and professed their faith, I quietly stood up on shaky legs and pushed my way past all the knees blocking me.
I needed some fresh air before I spiraled even faster.
Harder. Out of control like a hockey player about to ram headfirst into the wall, knowing it was going to happen, but not able to do a damn thing to change the inevitable.
Apparently, my muscles were stronger than I gave them credit for because they helped move me, getting me to the door, where I fully planned on escaping and hailing a cab.
It didn’t matter where to. Whether my empty apartment or Marco’s place.
Anywhere but here. In this church, where everywhere I turned I was being forced to consider the pregnancy. To really, truly, give thought to it.
I would have if it wasn’t so painful. If I didn’t feel like such a failure every time I thought about the prospect of bringing an innocent life into this world. One that I could very well screw up, in more ways than seemed possible.
I mean, look at me. I had gotten a tattoo on my ass of my first boyfriend’s initials.
I wasn’t sure why. I guessed I had thought it was romantic.
Either way, I had done it. Only to undo it the first chance I’d had.
Why? Because it had been a mistake. Because I had screwed up!
As was usual for me. That was what I did.
A strong, steady hand locked around my wrist just as I was about to push through the doors of the lobby, and I peered over and up through hooded eyes right into the eyes of my fiancé.
I hadn’t even noticed him get up, let alone follow me.
Why did he? He didn’t owe me anything, and it wasn’t as though we were actually together, that he actually gave a damn about me.
“Where are you going?” he whispered, his timbre forceful yet concerned, causing tiny flutters to zip around in my stomach.
I was halfway there. All I needed was for him to let me go, so I could leave. “Outside,” I replied, dropping my voice and swallowing back tears.
I wasn’t ready to go another round with Marco.
I needed to regain my wits about me.
Alone.
Astonishingly, the quiet intensity he naturally possessed eased as he nodded and drew his hand back. Although, I wasn’t in the clear yet because a darkness entered his eyes, swimming in the depths of them at a speedy rate that worried me.
Please, don’t stop me.
There was no doubt in my mind Marco was a fighter, but it seemed in this moment, he was tapping out. Not because he was giving up, but because he knew either way he was leaving with me. I could see it in his gaze. Even the way he squared his shoulders, his lips forming a thin line, suggested it.
While I appreciated the effort he was obviously trying to make, I didn’t think I could take it if he left the church with me. “Stay. Don’t follow me.” He needed to be here for his nephew’s christening, and I needed to flee. If only I could’ve fled my life.
He narrowed his eyes, his expression inscrutable. “I think we both know that’s not happening.” Then he moved through the door, completely ignoring me and my request to have time alone.
It was good to know I talked to myself with him. I rubbed my temple. “Marco, come on. Just…just go back,” I pleaded using my normal volume since we were finally outside, free from the confines of the thick air that felt more like a wet wool coat over my face. I felt like I was choking inside.
I walked down the few steps and looked around the sidewalk of the busy New York street. If I thought I could actually walk away from him, I would’ve made the attempt, but I suspected he’d only follow me.
Other men would have taken any opportunity to put distance between us. Marco wasn’t taking the one I was offering him on a silver platter, though. How sick was that? We weren’t even really together, and he stayed longer than anyone else had without me doing crazy shit to ensure he didn’t leave.
“Sit,” he commanded, pointing to a concrete bench at the edge of the sidewalk.
I closed my eyes, relishing in the way it felt to breathe a little normally again. Not to be dramatic, but it was getting close there, close to me forgetting what that felt like. “I don’t care for being—”
“I wasn’t asking,” he pushed, his gruff voice traveling straight into my bloodstream. “You looked like you were going to pass out or throw up back there, so sit. Maybe take a few deep breaths.”
Blinking, I pursed my lips and knew I couldn’t give in to what he wanted. I couldn’t keep up with the constant cycle of giving everyone else what they wanted, and not giving myself anything. Not even a sliver of what I wanted. Not that I was sure I could recognize what that was anymore.
That alone was one of the very reasons I was so scared to become a mother.
Mothers were…heroes. They quietly shifted their whole purpose and identity to caring for someone else.
They lost their own independence and personal freedom.
For most, that was fine, if it was voluntary. But this was anything but that for me.
I hadn’t chosen this. I had made a bad decision and was now facing the consequences.
Consequences that made me feel like I was an Italian Greyhound, leashed and not allowed to instinctively sprint.
I would never be able to explore or go on adventures or new paths.
I’d constantly be jerked backward. Not unlike how my entire life had been so far.
When did the girl on the leash get a little give, or better yet, get to break free totally? Didn’t she deserve that?
Eyeing the bench I had no intention of sitting on, I walked past it, my pace kicking up after I slipped my heels off and left them where they hit the ground.
I scanned the streets surveying my options.
I needed an escape and found one as a driver was standing by the trunk of a running town car.
He was on his phone, not paying a bit of attention to me or anyone else that was passing by as he was likely waiting for someone.
My heartbeat kicked up and a surge of adrenaline rushed through my veins as I ran toward the driver’s door and tugged on the handle.
I slipped into the car with ease and shifted the ignition from park to drive without hesitation, hitting the gas with a vengeance and pulling out into New York traffic with the know-how of a taxi driver.
I didn’t check my mirrors, didn’t look to see what I left behind.
A likely stupefied, pissed off Marco. A definitely pissed off driver. And all the doubt and anger I felt over a plus sign on a piece of plastic.