I giggle. “Fair enough.”
After Ivan drops me off, I curl up on the couch with a blanket and a book. As much as I truly am enjoying being back at Apex, I am exhausted. The third trimester really is the sleepy trimester.
I get about four pages into the first chapter when my phone rings. When I see the caller ID, I gasp, tossing the book aside and accepting the call immediately.
“Gianni!”
“Hey sis,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“How are you?” Fuck, I already need a tissue. “Oh my God, I miss you guys so much.”
“We miss you too,” another voice comes over the phone.
“Eliza! Am I on speaker phone? Is Bella there too?”
“She’s home, but she’s sleeping,” Eliza answers.
My eyebrows stitch together and I look at the wall clock. “Sleeping? It’s like, 2 P.M. On a Saturday? Jesus, do you guys let her sleep until 2 P.M.? Wake that girl up.”
“She was up earlier,” Gianni says. “She says she hasn’t been sleeping well at night, though.”
“Oh.” My smile dials down a couple of notches. “I hope everything’s alright.”
“How are things with you?” Eliza asks. “How’s the baby?”
“Is he taking care of you like he said he would?” Gianni asks.
“He is. The house is really nice. And your nephew is doing great. We did prenatal yoga today!”
“Oh! I hear that’s so good for you,” Eliza gushes.
“Are you safe where you are?” Gianni asks, less excited for me and more protective.
“I am, G. I’m staying at his estate.”
“Oh, an estate,” he says but his words are dripping with sarcasm. “A step up from the penthouse.”
“Be nice. She sounds good,” Eliza snaps at him. “You’re good, right?”
“I am,” I say. “But I miss you guys. Is anything new there?”
“We live in a town where the most exciting thing that happens is a new brand of beer hitting the taps at the bar,” Gianni mutters.
“Not that you should know,” I say. “You’re not twenty-one.”
“Buttheydon’t know that.”
I sigh. Leave it to Gianni to take advantage of his brand-new fake identity to sneak a sip.
Mercifully, Eliza changes the subject. “Things have been good, sis. But we miss you too. So much.”
“Me too,” I echo as my throat tightens. “So, so much.”
“Who are you guys talking to?” a third voice, a cranky one, comes through the phone, and I perk up again.
“Bella?”
“You’re talking to Amara and you didn’t tell me?!”
