Chapter 6
6
Giselle
“C ome, suck on Daddy’s cock.” Sergio sat on the couch. Naked.
I was wearing a black lace nightie. One of his favorites.
All the women were standing around. Watching.
I somehow managed to walk up to him and sink to my knees. I grasped his tiny penis and put it in my mouth. His groans were disgusting.
I was disgusting.
And then suddenly, he turned into Belinda.
She was bloody. All over. Covered in blood.
Her head was twisted to the side like it was broken. “You could have said something. You could have saved me, you selfish whore.”
I screamed out in terror.
“Shh, Giselle. I’m here. You’re okay. I’m here.” Carlo’s big arms pulled me into his chest. He smelled like spicy pine mixed with whiskey.
And I loved it.
He smelled like Carlo.
I was here.
In Carlo’s house.
In Carlo’s bed.
With Carlo.
Nowhere else.
I was here.
I panted and tried to catch my breath, but it was hard. “I’m sorry,” I whispered for the first time. I’d been here almost three weeks, and I’d never apologized even once.
“What? For what? You have nothing to feel sorry for,” he muttered into the top of my hair.
“I’m sorry for living. I’m sorry I didn’t die after I gave birth. And I’m sorry I’m here now, throwing a wrench into your life.” It all came bubbling out of me, and I didn’t really even understand what I was saying. But it was all true. Every word.
“Jesus, woman.” He rolled us over a bit, and he turned on my bedside lamp. Then he rose up on his arm, resting his handsome head in his hand. “First of all, you have nothing to be sorry for. And secondly, if you had died,” his eyes flitted around my face, “part of me would have died that day, too. I love you, Giselle. You know that. And lastly, you aren’t throwing a wrench into anything. I missed the fuck out of you. And I’m so fuckin’ happy you’re back.”
His eyes. The loving way he looked at me.
And his words.
They all soothed a wounded part of my soul. But it wouldn’t be enough.
All of Carlo’s love couldn’t save me.
“Tell me what you’re dreaming about. It’ll help to get it out in the open.”
I stared at him straight in the face and shook my head.
I could never tell him about my dreams.
He’d think I was out of my mind.
Not that he probably didn’t think that already.
“Okay, then tell me one thing that you’re afraid of. Just one. You can give me that much. I know you can.”
Oh, gosh.
His kind words, and the soft way he was caring for me—something inside of me wanted to give him what he asked for.
I didn’t know why.
But it did.
“I—I’m scared I’ll have these dreams every night for the rest of my life,” I blurted out all at once. I waited for him to tell me I was stupid. Or crazy.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed my lips. It was just a chaste kiss, but I could feel the meaning behind it.
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” He rested his forehead next to mine. “The doctors all said you could try a medication that might help. Do you want to do that?”
My body got stiff, and the fear returned. There wasn’t much I could contribute to my baby. But the one thing I could give him was my breastmilk. “But then the baby couldn’t have my milk,” I told him another fear I had. Not being able to feed my baby.
Not that I was now, anyway. But at least I was part of the supply chain.
Carlo smiled and moved his head back. “Yes, you can. Every doctor has told us that.”
I thought about it for a minute. “They did? Why can’t I remember that?” I searched his face for answers. Was my memory failing, too?
“Maybe because you had a traumatic birth that nearly cost you your life. And maybe because you spent a week getting blood transfusions and surgeries to save your life.”
His fingers trailed up my arm. “And maybe because you’re still healing from all of that. And, Giselle, that’s a lot of shit to have to heal from.”
I bit my lip and considered his explanation. All of that had happened.
And it had sucked.
Luckily, I didn’t remember much about the ICU. Except for a lot of worried faces every time I woke up.
And how devastated I felt for not being dead.
“Think about it. If you want to try some medication, tell the doctor tomorrow morning when she comes. If you don’t, that’s okay, too. I know you’ll make the right decision for you. For us.”
He leaned down and touched his lips to my forehead. “Let’s get some sleep before the baby wakes up.” Carlo turned off the lamp and settled me at his side. “I love you, Giselle. So much.”
For some reason, I still couldn’t return the sentiment.
But inside my head, I said, “I love you, too, Carlo,” for the first time since I’d been home from the hospital.