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‘Let’s pray I get us home before that stuff asphyxiates me. I hope she looks classier than she smells.’
Frankie snorted as Rocco flipped Valentina the middle finger. As they drove past Jay, he looked in at Frankie and gave her a smile; one so warm, it could have melted all the snow.
And Frankie realised, it wasn’t just a crush.
She was in love with Jay Costello.
CHAPTER 22
ROCCO, NOW
Rocco couldn’t bear to watch Valentina struggle to get up onto one of the barstools in his kitchen a moment longer. ‘Please, let me help you.’ He held out a hand.
Valentina batted it away. ‘I’m fine. I could… get up… here… last week,’ she puffed, trying to pull herself up onto the black leather stool.
Rocco hovered over her, ready to catch her if she fell, terrified she’d hurt herself or the baby.
He’d arrived home from work early on Friday afternoon to find Valentina sitting in her car in his driveway, having a nap while she waited for him. She’d become a regular visitor lately and the last time she’d been over she’d joked that he should have the spare room set up in case she was too tired to get home one evening.
‘Stop! I can’t stand this,’ Rocco said as Valentina pitched forward slightly. ‘Will you please come and sit on the sofa. Or on one of the dining chairs. Anything but this… this potential death trap!’
‘Fine,’ Valentina grumbled. ‘Though I doubt you’d get me up out of that thing now without some sort of winch or pulley system.’ She waved her hand dismissively at the large squashy low-set sofa before walking slowly over to the table. She’d barely reached it when she winced and inhaled sharply, cradling the bottom of her bump.
Rocco went cold. ‘What’s wrong?’ He hurried over to her.
Valentina exhaled then breathed in deeply. ‘It’s fine, just Braxton Hicks.’
‘Those are the pretendy contractions to prepare your body for labour, yeah?’
Valentina nodded and sank gratefully into one of the sumptuous padded grey velvet dining chairs. ‘Someone’s been reading up on pregnancy.’
‘Just bits and pieces.’ Rocco glanced over to the coffee table, hoping he’d hidden the What To Expect When You’re Expecting pregnancy book he’d bought. He knew Valentina would tease him mercilessly if she caught him reading it. And he had read it, cover to cover; mostly marvelling in wonder but occasionally recoiling in alarm at what happens to a woman’s body throughout those nine months. But knowledge was power and Rocco desperately wanted to know more to be able to understand what Valentina was going through and not flap about in panic if she went into labour in his presence.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah, just thought I’d come say hello.’ Valentina said this lightly, but didn’t meet his eyes.
‘You sure everything’s okay?’
‘Yes,’ she said a little more tetchily. ‘I just didn’t want to be on my own.’
‘Great. Fancy dinner? I’ve got some chicken fillets in, I could grill them, have them with a salad.’ After the cheeky takeaway and doughnut blip, Rocco was back on his healthy eating kick.
But Valentina didn’t look impressed with the menu option.
‘Could we phone out for pizza?’
‘Sure.’ Healthy eating was on pause for another day.
‘Thank you,’ Valentina said. She sighed, shifting her weight slightly in the chair as she rubbed her bump, looking preoccupied.
Rocco weighed up asking her once more if anything was wrong but decided against it. She’d been quite tetchy lately, and the nearer Valentina got to her due date, the less she was talking about her pregnancy. Rocco feared she’d started to bury her head in the sand about the imminent birth. And quite frankly, he didn’t blame her. He would be going quiet at the thought of part of his undercarriage dilating ten centimetres to allow a baby’s head to pass through. And that was as long as it was an uncomplicated birth.
What if the baby was breech? Rocco had had to put the pregnancy book down momentarily at the section covering a forceps birth, mentally steeling himself before carrying on.
Men had the easy bit, that was for sure.
‘Can I get you a coffee? Decaf obviously. Or tea. I have chamomile and…’
