23. Cassandra
Cassandra
He’s perfect.
With round cheeks and a button nose, Sadie’s son is the spitting image of the Gerber baby.
Lucas holds him in his arms, smiling down upon his son as if nothing in the world can compare to the miracle he is.
And I suppose nothing can.
Although I’m a little traumatized after witnessing how he came into this world.
Lucas showed up twenty minutes after Sadie arrived at the hospital. Once he took his place by her side, Cecilia, Natalie, and I went to leave and bide our time in the waiting room.
To my utter shock, Sadie stopped us and asked me to stay with her. While the request filled me with joy, I wasn’t prepared for the following eight hours.
But despite the pain of contractions, the shivers from the epidural, and the thirty minutes of pushing out her seven-pound, twelve-ounce baby, Sadie is on cloud nine.
Santino has been cleaned and swaddled, and Sadie has already breastfed once. The delivery team left, and Sadie’s nurse is preparing to move her from the delivery room to the recovery room.
“You’ve got quite the crowd waiting to meet this little guy,” her nurse says as she places Sadie’s belongings on a cart. “I can tell them to come back tomorrow so you can get your rest.”
“No!” Sadie shifts, waving an arm with an IV still attached. “I want them to meet Santino tonight. Especially Cecilia and Natalie, after everything they went through to get me here.”
The nurse shrugs. “Up to you. Once we get you settled in your new room, I’ll bring them in two at a time.” She leaves to finish preparations as Lucas returns to Sadie’s side and hands her their son.
“He looks like you,” Lucas says.
Sadie shakes her head. “No, he looks like you.”
“Cassie?” Lucas turns to me for a tiebreaker.
“He looks like both of you.” I grin. “A perfect combination.”
“He really is perfect, isn’t he?” Sadie sighs as one of Santino’s tiny hands breaks free and grasps her finger. “What do you think, Cassie?” She looks up. “Are you next?”
I cough and stutter, a hand reaching up to smooth my tangled hair. “I think we’ve got some time before that happens.”
“Mm-hmm.” Sadie raises her brows but focuses on her son.
“All right, mama.” The nurse returns. “Let’s get you moving.” She takes the baby and places him gently in his bassinet, instructing Lucas on how to push it. Unlocking Sadie’s bed, she begins the process of moving her to the recovery room.
“I’ll come back in a bit,” I say. “I can go update everyone waiting.”
“Thanks, Cassie,” Lucas says. “Let them know they’ll be able to meet Santino tonight.”
I give a thumbs-up as I turn left out of the room.
Through a set of double doors, which the unit secretary buzzes me through, I find the waiting room.
Other than one small family waiting in a far corner, the room is full of Sadie’s sister, aunt, and the Tariellos.
Vincent and Cecilia talk animatedly with Marco and Amanda. Leo sits against the wall on his ever-present laptop, Natalie dozing on his shoulder. Even Nico is here, standing with Whitney, Marisa, Lorenzo, and Dante.
But it’s the man in the center of the room, overseeing everyone, who catches my attention first.
Dominic’s hair is mussed from hours of travel and whatever devious activities he’s executed over the past twenty-four hours. The top two buttons on his shirt are undone, and the sleeves are rolled past his forearms.
His brows dip as he concentrates on his phone, typing a message before sighing.
As I enter the room, energy fills my veins, an electric spark that has Dominic’s eyes shooting up. The gold in them flashes as his chest rises and he pockets the phone.
He doesn’t wait for me to speak, just crosses the room and takes me by the nape of the neck, crashing his mouth against mine.
“Don’t ever do that again.” His voice is laced with gravel as he pulls away and pins me with a look that demands obedience.
“Cassandra!” Cecilia’s exclamation breaks the tension between us. “How is Sadie? How is the baby?”
“They’re good,” I say, my attention turning to the group. “The labor and delivery were textbook. The nurse is moving them to a recovery room now, and then they’ll be able to have visitors two at a time.”
A cheer erupts, facilitated by Whitney, of course.
I settle into a chair, hit by exhaustion but too wired to doze after the miraculous experience of the night.
Someday that will be me.
And despite the pain and trauma, I know it will be worth every second.
Natalie’s bridal brochures have turned into spreadsheets and finishing touches. With flowers planned, cake picked, and dress in final alterations, all we have left to do is sign off on the catering menu.
“I like all the choices available,” Natalie says, scouring the menu that the chef from Mare Di Sicilia came up with. “You can’t go wrong with chicken, salmon, or filet.”
“I say we offer all three,” I decide. “With risotto as a side and a vegetable. The chef has an amazing bread with cloves of garlic and onion baked in. That with slices of Italian bread, olive oil, and balsamic should be good for the sit-down dining.”
“And you’re set on the appetizers for the cocktail hour?”
“Absolutely.” I lay the menu down and smile. “Oh, my God. I think we’re done.”
“You’re done.” She laughs. “My job is about to get chaotic.”
“And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’re doing.” Standing, I reach over and hug her petite frame. “Without you, this wedding would be falling apart.”
Natalie waves me off. “Don’t worry, your husband is thanking me graciously.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
Natalie sets the contract on the coffee table for finalization and hands me a pen. “When are you visiting Sadie and the baby again?”
“I’m supposed to go see her tomorrow,” I say. “I told her I’d be her mother’s helper for a few hours so she can shower and rest. I never realized how much a newborn is a full-time job.”
Natalie snorts. “And that’s why I’ll be waiting at least another five years to have a kid. I want to build a career. Can’t do that with a baby at home.”
I hum and walk her to the door.
“See you at the final dress fitting on Friday?” she asks.
“Absolutely.” With a quick hug, she’s out the door.
I head toward the kitchen to scrounge together lunch. I consider the eggplant parmesan in the fridge, courtesy of Uncle Sal, but that’s heavier than I need a few hours before rehearsal.
Sighing, I turn to the cupboard where I keep my whole grain bread.
Rehearsal.
I finished choreography for Violet Taylor’s show a few weeks ago. It opened to rave reviews. Critics say this is her big comeback. It’s the version of Violet everyone fell in love with a decade ago.
I don’t know how much I had to do with that, but I like to think her dancers are blending into the production well enough that they’re not stealing the focus from her.
She’s been vocal about her pleasure with my contribution, bringing me on as her full-time choreographer—at least while she’s stationed in Vegas.
I cut half an avocado into strips and arrange it on a toasted piece of bread.
Then there’s the show at Il Palazzo.
As far as I’m concerned, my time as a Vegas showgirl has run its course. But I’m terrified to put in my two weeks’ notice.
There’s something about quitting that makes my new life so official.
No longer am I Cassandra Bain, the struggling former ballerina. I’m on my way to being Mrs. Dominic Tariello—the wealthy wife of a celebrity entrepreneur . . . and Mafia boss.
After sprinkling seasoning on my avocado toast, I carry my plate to the kitchen bar and take a bite.
While I chew, I decide today is the day I tell Zachary that I’m leaving. He’ll either throw a dramatic fit or shrug and say, “See you later.” I honestly don’t know which to expect.
One thing I do know is that Dominic will be thrilled.
He’s never hidden his dislike of sharing me with an audience. After arguments and plenty of snarky comments, I’m finally giving him what he wants.
Because I want it, too.
As I finish my toast, I allow my thoughts to drift into the future. What does it look like now that my tenure in dance is over? My position at Pharaoh’s Temple will take up far less of my time. So, what will I do with my days?
I can be like Cecilia and throw volunteer luncheons for the wealthy wives in the suburbs, I can be like Sadie and jump into motherhood, or I can lounge poolside reading romance novels and sipping cocktails.
Only one of those options has my heart beating faster and a grin growing on my face.
But I know it’s not the time.
And what am I going to do? Raise a baby in the penthouse of a casino.
No.
I’ll wait for Dominic to make that decision.
In the meantime, I’ll help Cecilia and lounge by the pool.
At least I’ll get a good tan.