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I quietly get out of bed, grab my phone, and step out of the room.
“Luca?” Nicolai answers in a sleepy voice. “What’s wrong?” I look at the clock on the kitchen wall. Shit, it’s eight o'clock in the morning, which means it would only be 2am in New Jersey. I didn't think about the time difference before I called.
“Sorry to wake you, Nic, but I have found her,” I say anxiously.
“Is it yours?”
“Of course it is. Why didn’t you tell me she was pregnant?”
“It wasn’t my news to tell. Besides, I know you. You wouldn’t have believed me until you saw it for yourself.”
“Yeah, well, you could have given me some warning.” I huff.
“Is she well?”
“She is.”
“I’m going to need your plane to bring her home.”
“Is that wise? Should she be flying that far along in her pregnancy? It’s a long flight back here.”
Shit! He is right. She said she is seven and a half months along. “I don’t know. I didn’t think of that. I will arrange for a doctor to come today to get clearance.”
“What if you were to fly to Italy? It’s only an hour and a half flight to Barcelona. You could stay with Alessio until the baby is born.”
“Yeah, that could work. I will have to talk it over with Scarlet. See what she wants to do.”
“Okay, well, I am going back to bed. Call me later and let me know what you have decided, and I will make the arrangements.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and Luca, Congratulations.” He chuckles. “I honestly never thought I would see the day my baby brother would become a daddy.”
Forty-Nine
Scarlet
The smell of burned toast and strong coffee tickles my nostrils as I watch Luca enter the bedroom carrying a tray. The charcoal piece of toast that sits next to what I can only presume is his attempt at scrambled eggs makes my stomach feel unsettled. But as I look up into Luca’s expectant eyes, I see his intended gesture. He is trying.
“You cooked breakfast for me?” I try to hide my smirk as I sit up and accept the tray. The coffee looks like mud. It’s so thick.
“I’m sorry.” He looks at me with a sincere apology. “You don’t have to eat it. As you can tell, I am not much of a cook.”
“I appreciate your efforts. It’s sweet.” I try to reassure him. “Thank you.” I pick up an apple slice and quickly take a bite. It is the only thing that looks edible.
He stands awkwardly, watching me intently, his feet moving from side to side. He looks nervous. It’s cute.
“I’m going to take a shower and let you finish your breakfast.” He leans over and kisses my forehead, and I watch him as he walks into the bathroom and closes the door.
Oh, thank God for that! The moment I hear the shower start, I spring from the bed and rush out to the kitchen. I scrape the egg into Pumpkin’s food bowl and watch him in amusement as he inspects it, sniffs it, then walks away. Even the cat can’t bring himself to eat it. I laugh to myself.
Grabbing some paper towels, I quickly wrap up the toast and egg and toss them in the trash can in an attempt to hide the evidence. I don’t want to offend him, but there is no way in hell I can eat this without throwing it up.
I hurry back to the bedroom and find myself stopping outside the door to the bathroom. My hand curls around the door handle, but I quickly remove it again. I know what I want to choose, but is that the right decision for my baby? I begin to pace back and forth outside the door. A million different scenarios of what could go wrong conflict with the million thoughts of what could go right inside my head. Can I trust my instincts? Can I be confident without conviction in what my heart is telling me to do?
I contemplate my future. The future of my baby. I am aware that this is the moment I get to decide which path I take us on next. Considering my past choices and mistakes, I have to be smarter, wiser. I am no longer in a position where I am just thinking for myself.
Do I open the door and tell him yes? Yes, I love him, and yes, I will go back to America with him. Or do I run? Turning around, my eyes fixate on the suitcase I have at my closet door, packed, ready to go at a moment's notice just in case.
