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Don Antonio nods, adding, "The Halimaw ng Hilaga cartel will likely remain in disarray for a while. But Don Melchor will keep an eye on them. With the team La Serpiente Dorada is leaving behind, we'll have the reinforcements needed to act swiftly."
"I'm glad to hear that. And," I say in a lighter tone, allowing a smile to break through, "don't forget, tomorrow is the wedding."
Just then, Pia appears at the study's doorway, her presence a ray of light, yet the paleness of her skin sends a wave of concern through me. Since the funeral and the overwhelming meeting with the attorney to discuss her inheritance, she's seemed distant, lost in grief. During dinner, as we all tried to support her through the maze of decisions ahead, her wealth, now hers by right but unwanted, weighed heavily on her.
Gabriel's suggestion to return in a few months to give Pia the space she needs to grieve resonates deeply. "When we come back, we can make it a family vacation and decide together what steps you want to take next," he had proposed. This plan felt right, giving Pia time and the support of a united family.
As I wrap my arms around Pia, her sigh melds into my chest. I kiss the top of her head, my heart aching to take away her pain, her floral scent grounding me.
Through tears, Pia looks at us, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for everything. For supporting me, for saving me, for just being here. It means more than I can say."
With that, she offers a small, grateful smile and excuses herself, leaving a silence in her wake that speaks volumes about the journey ahead. As she departs, my resolve to stand by her, to be her strength, solidifies. Tomorrow, we take the first official step into our future together, which promises challenges and the unwavering support of a family bound not just by blood but by shared trials and unbreakable bonds.
Diego's question cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "Are you sure it's only grief?" His raised eyebrow suggests he's hinting at something deeper, something I hadn't even considered amid our current turmoil.
"What do you mean? You think she's sick?" The mere thought sends a wave of panic through me, my mind racing with visions of chronic illnesses that could be lurking, hidden by the guise of grief.
Diego strides over to me, a knowing grin on his face, and claps a hand on my shoulder. "No, I'm thinking…" His gaze drifts pointedly downward towards my abdomen, sparking a moment of confusion before the realization dawns on me.
"What, you think we're having too much sex?" I laugh off the absurdity, but Diego's steady look silences me. The room falls into a heavy silence, thick with implication until the weight of his suggestion truly lands with a thud in my gut.
"Fuck," I whisper, the word escaping me like a prayer as I rake my fingers through my hair. "Fuck," I repeat, the possibility now fully formed and undeniable.
Diego's shrug does little to comfort me. "It happens. Look at Inés and me. That's how Lucy came about." His attempt at reassurance does little to quell the storm brewing inside me.
Gabriel, ever the voice of reason, joins us, the concern plain on his face. "Tell me you used protection." His question feels like a punch to the gut. The truth hits me hard; not once did I consider the need for it, caught up in the whirlwind of our connection.
Diego guides me to a chair and quips about offering me a drink I can no longer have. He suggests a chamomile tea instead. I'm grappling with the reality of our oversight, my world spinning out of control, when Papá's laughter cuts through the tension.
"If it is so, that child is a blessing," Don Antonio says with amusement and warmth. "And he or she will be welcomed with open arms and all the love we can offer."
Diego dispatches one of the men to fetch pregnancy tests, turning back to me with a serious yet supportive look. "Might as well find out now," he says, grounding me back to the present.
Sitting there, surrounded by my family, the possibility of becoming a father suddenly feels terrifying and exhilarating. The idea that Pia and I could have created a life together amid chaos offers a glimmer of hope, a potential joy in the shadow of grief. But first, we need answers, and as I wait for the tests to arrive, I find solace in the knowledge that, no matter the outcome, we're surrounded by love and support.
Pacing back and forth in the study, I can barely focus on the business discussions happening around me. My mind is a whirlwind of possibilities, fears, and hopes tangled together. When the man Diego sent returns with the tests, I nearly snatch the bag from his hands, murmuring a quick thanks. Excusing myself from the company, I bound up the stairs, taking them three at a time.
Xavier and Ron's confusion is palpable outside our bedroom, but they're quickly joined by Joshua and Darrel. Joshua's concerned voice breaks through. "Is everything all right?"
I nod, managing a tight, "I need a moment of privacy," essentially a polite command for them to blend into the background.
Opening the door, I enter our sanctuary, finding Pia emerging from the bathroom. Her voice, weak, but beautiful, breaks the silence. "I think I'm coming down with something."
Without hesitation, I scoop her into my arms, her laughter a balm to the tightness in my chest. Laying her gently on the bed, I kneel beside her, my voice trembling as I tell her, "I love you." Her fingers brush away the tears spilling down my cheeks, her concern etched in every line of her face.
"What's happening?" she asks, her voice a whisper.
I reply with a soft kiss before reaching for the bag and pulling out three different pregnancy tests. Her worry deepens as she glimpses them. "You're worrying me," she says, her voice trailing off as she stares at the tests in my hands. "No, it can't be. Can it?" Her gaze meets mine, a sea of emotions swirling in her eyes.
Holding her gaze, I respond, "Only one way to find out. And regardless of the outcome, nothing bad will happen. If it's positive, it changes everything, but only for the good." Her arms wrap around me in a tight embrace, a silent agreement to face whatever comes together.
With a steadiness I don't feel, I lead her to the bathroom, placing the tests within her reach before stepping back out, affording her privacy. My gaze turns outward to the sprawling veranda as I attempt to distract myself with thoughts of showing Pia the beauty of Mexico, of our future together.
Time blurs until Pia reappears, her steps slow, the tests laid out on tissue in her hands. "I haven't looked. I want us to look together," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Together, we sit, our hands entwined, taking a collective breath.
"On three," I say, and on cue, we look down. The world seems to hold its breath with us.
"Pregnant. Positive." The words on the tests blur as tears of joy, of overwhelming emotion, flood my vision. I'm going to be a dad. And Pia, the incredible woman beside me, is the mother of my child. Every fear and doubt evaporate at that moment, leaving only my profound love for Pia and our unborn child.
