I will not cry. I will not cry. “It is a bit of a shock,” I admit.
I wonder if she overheard me and Armani yelling at each other? Or if the entire floor did? How mortifying.
She puts things away on a cart with rolling drawers, keeping herself busy as she waits for me to finish. “You know, there are resources if you decide that, you know, this isn’t what you want. The prenatal nurse can talk you through your options when she calls.”
“Thanks,” I say softly. But my mind is already made up. “I’m ready now.”
“I also have to ask…” She hesitates as she turns toward me. “Is it safe for you to go home?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. I know exactly what she’s fishing for.
Her eyes search mine, and then she asks, “Have you ever experienced any form of physical or emotional abuse by your partner, or by anyone else close to you?”
It almost draws a laugh out of me. How can these questions even apply when you’re married to someone in the mafia?
“It’s not what it sounded like,” I tell her. “This news is just—I mean finding out about the baby, right after the stress of the fire, and then all this other family stuff we’ve been dealing with the last few months—the whole thing kind of blindsided us both. We’re in a bit of a freefall right now. But everything is okay. Really. I’m safe. Baby is safe. It’s all going to be okay.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “That’s good to hear. I brought you a prenatal vitamin to take before you go. I’ll just leave it here and meet you down the hallway.”
She walks out, closing the door gently behind her, and I stare at the vitamin in the paper cup she set on the tray table. Everything I do from here on out is going to matter tenfold. Everything I eat, every activity I engage in, how much sleep I get, how much stress I have on a daily basis. All of it is going to impact the tiny life growing inside me.
The tiny life that Armani doesn’t want. The child he’s accusing me of tricking him into.
For a short, stupid while I actually thought he was beginning to care for me. He rescued me from that fire when I could’ve easily died. He stayed by my side in the hospital, watching over me. And then one little word—baby—made him show his true colors.
I’m not done with you. You still owe me.
Taking the vitamin from the cup, I swallow it down with half a glass of water.
Screw Armani.
He might not be done with me.
But I’m sure as hell done with him.
8
ARMANI
“Before we discussthe Bruno situation, I have some…other news to relay first,” I say, gravely meeting each of my family members’ expectant gazes in turn.
The gang’s all here. Dante and Frankie, Marco and Karina, Clayton. Charlie had a meeting with a client for an event she’s planning, so Clayton will have to debrief her later.
“Just spit it out,” Dante says, sounding exhausted. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”
“Yeah. When it comes to the Brunos, we know shit can always get worse,” Marco adds.
I called this meeting in the first-floor library to talk about the fire at the Bruno bakery and relay the outcome. Which, of course, I still don’t know myself. But I figured I’d better let them in on Candi’s little ploy right away, because there’s no sense in keeping it a secret. Candi begrudgingly accepted the ride home from Donovan a few hours ago, but we haven’t spoken since our fight in her hospital room. She’s sleeping now. I still haven’t gone to bed.
“This isn’t about the Brunos,” I say. “Candi is…she’s pregnant.”
For one tense, silent beat, everyone just stares at me like they’re waiting for the punchline. But then, slowly, realization spreads across their faces as I stand there stoically and don’t retract my statement.
“Seriously, bro?” Marco blurts.
“Would I lie about something like this?” I say coldly.
“Oh my God!” Frankie almost squeals. “Oh my God, Armani, wow! You’re going to be a daddy!”
