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Carlotta noticed my sour mood, but for once, I didn’t divulge last night’s make-out session to her. I felt ashamed of my actions, ashamed of my lack of restraint.
I didn’t leave the apartment all day. Poor Battista hadn’t left it since Nevio brought him here. I didn’t want to sneak him out in a cardboard box again, and I didn’t have an idea how else to do it. When I wasn’t busy entertaining Battista, I tried to read a book that would have been part of my nursing curriculum.
Nevio was on time for once, seven o’clock, with Indian takeout. Carlotta had dinner with us, which allowed me to relax as I was in no immediate danger of succumbing to my desires again. Battista was in his crib, gnawing on a teething ring. Nevio barely glanced at him during dinner as if he could pretend he wasn’t a father.
Carlotta left for her room after dinner to study for her courses tomorrow.
“So will you give me the rundown of what I need to do?” he asked with a nod toward his son.
“You could start by taking him out of his crib. You haven’t held him in a while.”
Nevio got up and rubbed his palms over his legs as if they were sweaty from nerves, which I couldn’t imagine, considering everything Nevio had experienced. A baby was hardly something to be scared of. Though, I had to admit that some of Battista’s crying fits had me break out in a sweat too.
Nevio walked up to the crib and stared down at him with furrowed brows. Then his eyes slanted to me. “Do you think he’ll be like me?”
I rose to my feet and moved to his side, even if his proximity always posed a risk. I wondered what exactly Nevio meant by this. Battista had Nevio’s eyes and shared some of his facial features. Only his hair was a few shades lighter. “He needs a loving home, then everything will be okay.”
Nevio shook his head, his dark eyes piercing mine. “I had a loving home, the fucking best family one could wish for in our world and beyond, but nothing is okay, trust me.”
“Maybe you just tell yourself it’s not because it’s easier than working on yourself.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, but I could tell he didn’t think it was the case.
Battista had stopped biting his ring and was now staring up at us with interest. I smiled at him, and he returned the smile. He only had two teeth so far, his upper incisors.
“He’s going to cry if I pick him up.”
“He won’t ever react otherwise if you don’t form a bond with him.”
Nevio reached into the crib and lifted Battista out of it. For a few seconds, Battista only stared at him, then his lower lip began to tremble, and a cry burst out of him. Nevio immediately turned to me as if he wanted to hand his son over to me.
I stepped back and raised my palms. “You promised to take care of him. If you always give up immediately, that won’t work.”
Nevio nodded. “Go to sleep. I’ll handle him. I suppose I have to sleep on the sofa. Or will you share your bed with me?”
I gave him a half smile. “The sofa is comfortable. You can find everything for his bottles on the counter. He usually wakes three times at night for his bottle. Sometimes he wants to play a little before falling back asleep, especially after his last bottle.”
I turned around, even as Battista’s cries tugged at my heartstrings. When my bedroom door fell shut behind me, I took a deep breath. I had to get up at five at the latest, but I wasn’t sure if I’d get any sleep if Battista kept crying like this. Nevio needed to talk to him and show Battista that he was safe. Would he be able to do it?
I wasn’t sure. I got ready for bed and lay down. Battista kept crying for another fifteen minutes, but then he quieted. I finally fell asleep.
I was woken in the middle of the night by cries. Usually, Battista signaled his hunger with mewl and soft cries. For him to cry this loudly, Nevio must have ignored those first signs. I got up and crept into the living room. The lights were on. A Nintendo Switch lay on the coffee table with some ego shooter. Battista was still in his crib, but Nevio wasn’t there. I took him out and followed the light into the kitchen, where Nevio was preparing a bottle. He was only in his boxers, displaying the muscles on his upper body and legs, but something else drew my attention this time. He was wearing headphones, and I could hear loud heavy metal blasting from the speakers even from a few steps away. No wonder he hadn’t heard Battista if he’d had those on the entire time and been busy playing computer games.
Nevio turned around with the bottle. His eyes scanned me from head to toe with a slow smile. My pulse picked up in anger. I didn’t take the bottle. Instead, I handed Battista to him, then I tugged the earphones from his ears and tossed them on the table. I couldn’t even say a word. I was so angry with him.
I whirled around and stalked back to my room. I was so agitated, I doubted I’d be able to fall asleep anytime soon. At least, Battista’s cries stopped almost instantly.
I stared up at the dark ceiling, wondering why I shouldn’t go to Remo and Serafina tomorrow and tell them the truth. Nothing pointed toward Nevio becoming a responsible parent soon. I couldn’t do this alone. It wasn’t my responsibility. In the short time I’d been taking care of Battista, he had already grown on me, but I was only eighteen. I couldn’t become an adoptive mother.
My door creaked, and Nevio appeared in the dim light from the hallway.
“If you think I’m going to make out with you now, you’re crazy,” I whispered harshly.
He walked over to me and sank down on my mattress. I was determined to slap him if he made a move.
“Where’s Battista?”
“He fell asleep in his crib after he had his bottle. The crying must have exhausted him.”
