My phone buzzed on the center console. I glanced down and saw Courtney’s name. Cazzo!
Isla readjusted herself in the chair to face forward. No question she’d seen the woman’s name on my phone. I didn’t need this right now. I didn’t need anything or anyone making matters worse for me. There was too much at stake. I had too much to lose.
“Well, answer it.” Isla sighed.
“It’s not important.” I sent it to voicemail.
“It’s the redhead, isn’t it?” She continued to face forward, avoiding eye contact.
I assumed she was hiding her jealousy. There was a time I’d puff out my chest and beat on it in a primal way, metaphorically speaking, of course. I used to get off on making her jealous. Not anymore.
After more than a year without her, I never wanted her to feel threatened by another woman. I wasn’t the asshole she’d dumped. I’d changed.
“Yes. She’s just a friend.”
“A friend you fuck.” She shook her head, raising her hand like a stop sign. “I don’t want to know. What you do doesn’t concern me.”
Paolo stared at me in the rearview mirror.
I didn’t have a response. What could I say? If I denied it, she wouldn’t believe me, even though it was the truth. It infuriated me how no matter what I said to her, she wouldn’t listen.
How in the hell was I going to get through to her when she shut me down at every turn?
Paolo’s words came back to me…You can always force her.
I could demand she move to Canada, but how would I keep her there without making her hate me?
Force her to marry you. Hmm…
21
ISLA
I couldn’t bethis close to Ciro. My skin was in a constant state of tingling and begging. My body and heart were betraying me left and right. Had they forgotten the pain and agony we’d suffered last year, especially during my pregnancy?
Eight months of tears.
Eight months of emptiness.
Eight months of dreams that would never come true.
When Penelope Giovanna had made her grand entrance into the world too early, I’d never been so frightened in my life.
Placenta previa nearly killed us both.
If I’d gotten proper prenatal care, we would’ve known the dangers early on. But I hadn’t had health insurance and had been too embarrassed to go to social services. My pride had gotten in the way of my child’s well-being and all these months later, I still felt a tremendous amount of guilt.
The morning of her birth, I woke up with cramps and severe bleeding. I had driven myself to the hospital becausemy sister wouldn’t answer her door when I banged on it, crying for help.
I’d gone into premature labor and had no one to help me. As if that wasn’t enough, the umbilical cord had been wrapped around my lovebug’s neck. If it weren’t for the emergency C-section, I would’ve lost her.
My chest tightened as I recalled how I’d sobbed when they rushed her to the NICU. They hadn’t even shown her to me. I’d cried out to God, wishing Ciro was by my side, then feared my baby’s father might not ever know her if she died.
The scare of my life hadn’t been enough to make me call Ciro to announce he had a daughter. No amount of guilt I carried could convince me to tell him. Protecting my daughter and her heart had been my priority.
My affliction continued each month as I watched Pippa grow and develop, and her eyes turned brown like his, which seemed like an evil joke. I would be forced to see him every day in my daughter’s eyes—the man I loved fervently with all my heart and soul. The daily reminder tormented me.
Still, I hadn’t changed my mind about hiding Pippa’s existence, and now he sat a couple of feet away from me.
