“Yeah,” I answered.
“How’s it going?” Roman asked.
“Not as I expected.”
“She’s giving you a run for your money, huh?” He chuckled. “Did you expect anything less after the way you treated her?”
I bit my tongue, trying to hold back telling him about Pippa, but I couldn’t. I needed my brother’s wisdom. I needed help figuring this shit out before I made it worse.
“Roman, I need to tell you something, but you have to promise not to say a word to anyone, especially Padre.”
“Goddammit. What in the hell did you do?”
“Do you promise?” I asked him in a don’t-fuck-with-me tone.
“Yes, I promise.” The concern in his voice was typical Roman. After his mother’s death, Roman had taken up the role of protector and role model. He was several years younger than me and losing his and Luca’s beloved Mamma had madehim grow up overnight. Since her death, everything Roman had done was to make her proud.
I inhaled a deep breath and just blurted it out. “I have a daughter.”
No response.
I was a coward and didn’t break the agonizing silence. Instead, I paced in my room, breathing deeply as I waited for my brother to speak.
“Jesus, Ciro. Who’s the mother?”
“You asshole. Isla, who else?” Was he being for real thinking I’d get another woman pregnant? I hadn’t been with anyone since Isla.
“Sorry. When?” he asked.
“In October. A daughter. She’s seven months old.” I paused as emotion clogged my throat. “Roman, she’s perfect. Beautiful. She has my eyes.” I smiled, thinking of Pippa’s striking brown eyes, soft chubby cheeks, and pink heart-shaped lips.
“I don’t know what to say. Congratulations, I guess.” He had to have been pacing just as I was. We were similar in how we dealt with problems: wearing the rug out and drinking.
“You can’t tell anyone. I need to tell Padre first.”
“He’s going to be heartbroken when he learns he has a grandchild in the world, a girl, no less. You know how he’s always wanted more girls in the family. Fuck, he’s going to be pissed he missed the birth.”
“I know,” I hissed as the anger I’d held back all day made its way to the surface. “I’m furious with Isla. I can’t get back the months I lost with Pippa.”
“Pippa?”
“Isla calls her Pippa, but her full name is Penelope Giovanna.”
“Damn, she even gave her your mom’s name. That’s fucking special, brother. And Isla, how is she?”
I opened another bottle of bourbon and guzzled it to numb the fury and guilt raging war inside me.
“She’s tired and works a lot, leaving Pippa with a babysitter. My child is without her mother all goddamn day!” My voice cracked. “They live in a dump. Isla’s car is a piece of shit. All my fucking billions, and this is how my girls are living!”
“Let it out while you’re on the phone with me so you don’t unload on Isla. It was wrong for her to keep the baby from you, but after the way?—”
“I don’t give a fuck about her excuses or if I deserved it! It was fucking heartless to keep Pippa from me. She’s so beautiful, Roman.” I swallowed thickly.
My emotions were bipolar as hell. Calm, then raging. Peaceful, then panicked. Happy, then sad. I couldn’t keep up with the back and forth.
“Let it out, brother,” Roman said.
“You should see the way she smiles at me. It’s like she’s always known me. It squeezes the air out of my lungs. Fuck, Roman. My child has been without me for nearly eight goddamn months. Isla went through it all without me.” I collapsed on the bed, heaving in gallons of air to get control of myself before tears streamed down my face. “I’ve missed so much, and it’s all my fault.”
