I somehow found calmness in the chaos, lowering my robe, letting it fall to the floor. Then I spoke the words I had been terrified of sharing with him. “Sono incinta, mio marito.”
The words came out in a whisper, but I could always cut through his red fog, seizing his rage and bringing it to its knees.
“I’m pregnant,” I repeated in English. “Yours. Mine. Ours. Due in September. The proof is right here.” I reached out and took his hand, bleeding from the violence, and set it against the swell of my stomach. “I’m sorry that I didn't tell you. I didn't mean for this to happen. But I'm not sorry that it did. You are free to...” My lip trembled. “Go. If that's what you need. I-I understand, if you can’t stay.”
His crazed eyes released me. I went to the dresser, leaving him to his thoughts, and retrieved the letter about the faulty birth control. I went to give it to him, to prove that it wasn't intentional, but he slapped it out of my hands with an intensity that made me flinch.
“Why—” He cleared his throat. “Why didn't you tell me? You lied to me. The day at the doctor's office, you knew. The sickness. The tiredness. You found out that day.”
“Yes.”
“You went to see that monster knowing you were pregnant.”
“I’m sorry.” I started to cry, fat tears running down my cheeks, but I was in control of my breath, even though I felt the sob in my throat. He would never truly understand how sorry I was. How…desperate. When Luca said that I was terrified of losing his love, losing him, he was right. But terrified was a simple term in comparison. There was no word to explain how I felt about losing him, or what it would do to me.
“Tell me, what’s the one thing I can't live without, Scarlett.” When I didn’t, he roared, “Tell me!”
“Me,” I whispered.
“I almost lost my fucking mind. I almost—” He waved a hand, his blood splattering on my skin, right over my heart.
“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to—” Taking in a wavering breath, it barreled out in a rush when he fell to his knees in front of me, his head to my stomach, hands to my hips.
The coolness of his sweat slid down my skin, his lips pressed against me. His hands trembled. “I can live with this,” he whispered. “But I can't live without you.”
Not knowing what else to say, the silence consumed me.
“Tell me. Are you...and the,ah—” it was a noise a man made when he needed to get in control of himself “—baby...all right.”
“Yes. We're both fine.” I stepped away from him, offering him my hand. “Do you want to see?”
He looked up at me, his eyes so guileless that it shattered my heart. It was exceptionally rare that I saw the boy in him, but he was there, lurking. Sheer terror reflected back at me.
He nodded once, real slow, but didn’t take the offered hand.
“I think…” I moved for the picture. I had framed it and placed it between pictures of us on our wedding day. “…we’re having a little girl. Remember Eva had a dream of her?” I spoke slowly, soothingly, ignoring the tears running down my cheeks and the intense pain still in my heart. “She moves a lot. She likes the sound of your voice.”
I handed him the first ultrasound picture, and he took it, sitting back on his heels. He stared. And stared. And stared. One tear fell from his eye.
“I have another appointment coming up soon,” I said as casually as possible. If I showed any emotion in reaction to his, like letting the sob free, I wasn’t sure what he’d do. “Will you go with me?”
He made me wait a long time for his answer. The picture hypnotized him.
“Do I go as your husband?” he said in Italian.
“Brando—”
He held a hand up. “Rispondetemi.”
“Of course. You aremyhusband, for as long as I live and even longer. You are this baby’s father, for as long as she lives and even longer. We’re both yours now.”
“Then why not tell me, Scarlett? Why give me an out? Do you not want me anymore? Do you think I'll be like him?”
Brando still had secrets, and up until then, he had refused me the right to know this one.
Dear God.He didn’t only refuse me the right to see Luca because he was a monster—he refused me the right to see his father because he thought I couldn’t love him, knowing how alike they were. It wasn’t until I met him in person that I truly understood what everyone had been telling me.
My husband’s words crashed against my heart, and I fell to my knees in front of him, hiding my face. The fear that I locked so tightly within myself had become toxic. It poured out of my eyes. My heart twisted in pain. My lungs burned, suffocating, making it hard for me to breathe. He was the only one who had the power to do this to me, to kill me without even touching me.
