He sighs heavily and links his hands together on his lap. “Thisisn’t the right time to have this conversation. You’re not well and you need rest. There is information you need to read before you decide that running is the best option.”
The tears on my cheeks are drying up and starting to itch, so I wipe them away. “Oh, like the great Alexander is willing to give me options,umhumm, sure.” It comes out snippy and childish, but who is he trying to kid?
He looks at me sharply and says, “Yes, your Nonno made sure you would have options in your life, and as your husband, it’s my duty to make sure I fulfilled his wishes. Like I said, there is information you need to read, and then you can decide, but first you need to get well.”
My throat chokes up at his name. “My nonno?”
It was barely above a whisper and the tears start all over again when he said my Nonno. I miss him so much, and right now, I could really use his guidance.
Alexander nods. “Yes, Isabella. But you need to get well first, and then you can decide on your future. But just so you know, no matter what you plan, I will find you and the baby. I fucked up, big time. But you are my wife, mine to protect, and so is the little one you carry.”
I can’t help but stare at him. He’s staying very calm; there’s a look of determination on his face at my mention that I could run if I chose. And Alexander will find me again; I know it with every fiber of my being, but the question that keeps popping into my head is why he is chasing me in the first place.
I meant fuck all to him.
He didn’t know about the baby until he found me in Fargo, so that wasn’t the reason he came. He was ordered to kill me, is all I can think of, and like the Christmas goose, he’ll keep me in comfort till the baby comes, and then... bullet. No Chester, Charlie, and Chad for me.
The tears start again, and I whimper as I hold my stomach, sinking lower in the bed, cradling her. I will never raise her, see her grow up, or watch her take her first steps. Oh, God, I should have just gone home in my head. I would never have known about her or suffer this heartbreaking grief for the life of my baby, and I will never get to watch her grow up.
“Isabella, love. What’s wrong?” He reaches to touch my shoulder and I flinch away, crying harder.
My chest seizes, the words coming out broken like my heart. “Just let me hold her before you kill me, that’s all I ask. Just let me see her, kiss her and hold her. Then do what you have to do.” I curl into the fetal position on the bed and hug my tummy, wishing I could crawl inside myself and gather her in my arms, and see her now. To know the color of her hair. Are her eyes green or gray? I stuff the comforter in my mouth and choke on my sobs.
“Oh my god, Isabella no, God. No, you’re not going to die, how could you even think that?”
I cry harder, shaking the bed and Alexander put a gentle hand on my hip. “Sweetheart, no. You’re safe, no one is going to hurt you. You’re my wife, the mother of my child. No one will hurt either of you.”
I look over my shoulder, his face pale and serious.
“You said I signed my death warrant, the baby is the only reason I’m still alive, so don’t pretend, Alex. I know the rules. It’s only a matter of time.”
His eyebrows furrow and he removes his hand. “No more death talk. You will not die by my hand or any other. So, no more talk about that. You will live here, and we will take each day one at a time. I made a promise that I would prove to you how sorry I am. I built you a home, so you have your space without me, without the pressure of that life. I want us to start over. But Ineed to gain your trust and I know that will take time.”
“I don’t trust you.” I wipe my face on the comforter and half turn to watch him.
“I know you don’t, and I can’t blame you. But this is all for you. And I’ll prove it to you. One day, you will see, one day you will understand.”
I roll over, holding my tummy and study him. If the one thing my Nonno taught me was to watch, listen, and wait, be aware of the words that people say versus the actions that they take. I know I’ll never be free from Alexander. He is the father of my baby and running seems to get me nowhere, obviously.
I lament, “I don’t know if it’s a girl, she just feels like one to me.” His eyes go wide and he looks at me. “I didn’t go to the hospital, I did a test at home when I got sick all the time. Mrs. Schmidt was the one who said I was pregnant. I was too scared to go in case you found me.”
I can feel my cheeks burning; the Kleenex is in shards in my hand as I keep picking it apart. His tanned hand reaches over, holding mine.
“We will make an appointment for you and the little one. You need to take care of yourself now, Isabella.” His thumb strokes my wrist and I want so much to slap his hand away but at the same time it’s comforting.
I was scared to do this on my own, but I was determined to do it. She will be mine to love and love me back. I need to move my hand away from his touch, I may not be getting a bullet, but I’m still a prisoner. As much as I would like to be grateful, I’m not. I slide my hand away from under his to pick up my car keys and my phone and set them on the nightstand.
I wiggle back a bit and push up a little more on the bed, andAlexander jumps up to help, but stops himself. I sit back and bring the comforter up higher. If I have to talk to him, I’d like to at least feel clean.
“Can I have a shower? I feel gross.”
He points at me, his look almost grateful for the switch in conversation. “Ahhh, yes. Umm, just give me one minute.”
He hurries over to the bathroom and flicks on the light. I hear him moving things around. A curse word echoes, and then he comes to the side of the bed with a beautiful pink terry cloth bathrobe.
“I’ll close my eyes while you put this on, and I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
True to his word, Alexander closes his eyes and holds the bathrobe open for me. I slowly swing my legs off the bed. I use the headboard to try to anchor myself up. My feet burn as soon as they touch the floor, and I wince. I slip my arms in and tie the robe. Alexander puts his hands on my shoulders.
