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“I would think that having this baby makes itlessconfusing,” she offers. “The two of you want to be together. Now, you have the perfect excuse.”
The moment she says it, I feel my heart drop. “For that to happen, Cee has to… She would…”
“No, Taylor.” Mila sighs, leaning in and putting her hand over mine. “That’s not what I meant. Even if Celine wakes up, I think you owe it to her to be honest. Tell her the truth and let whatever happens just happen.”
I shake my head. “No. No way.”
“Why not?”
“Because I love her,” I explain. “She’s my sister, my best friend. We have always, always had each other’s backs. Why would I stop now?”
“Because you saw him first?”
I pause. I want to have a good, snappy comeback, but I don’t.
Mila shrugs. “Look. You’ve been carrying around this guilt as if you’re stealing her man. Technically, she stole yours.” I open my mouth to object, but she holds up a hand once again to stop me. “I don’t care what the technicalities are or were. The fact is, you and Ilarion saw something in each other or felt something or whatever romantic bullshit it took to make both of you climb into a backseat and make a baby.BeforeCeline even knew he existed.”
I sigh and rub my eyes. “That doesn’t change the fact that he askedherto marry him. Besides, she deserves to be happy. He can make her happy.”
She frowns. “You’ve changed your tune.”
“Because I realized that under all that macho toughness, he’s actually a decent man,” I admit. “And I believe him when he says he’ll take care of her.”
Mila shakes her head. “You’re really willing to sacrifice your own happiness for Celine’s?”
“Yes,” I say without missing a beat.
She smiles quietly, then sighs. “Dammit.”
“What?”
“I really didn’t want to like you.”
“I have been told I have a magnetic personality,” I joke, tossing my hair playfully. It feels good to experience a small moment of lightheartedness amidst all the darkness I’ve been going through.
The silence settles and thickens. Both of us look in the corners of the room, wondering if there are maybe some answers hidden there that will solve all of the shit swirling around us.
“Mila…” I chew on the inside of my cheek for a moment. “Can I ask you something? You mentioned earlier that Benedict has devoted himself to getting Ilarion back. I was wondering…”
“You haven’t heard the story?”
“Not sure if you’re aware, but your brother’s not really the chatty type.”
“Didn’t think I was, either. But then, here we are, chatting the day away.” She pushes my dinner plate closer to me. “I’ll make you a deal: you eat and I’ll talk. Sound good?”
“Damn,” I mutter. “Relentless.”
“I’m just looking out for my little niece or nephew.”
That makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, and at the same time, incredibly nervous. But I push the worry away and fork a gnocchi. The prongs slide in like a knife through butter. I pop it into my mouth and sigh.
“Okay, I’m eating,” I mumble between bites. “I believe you have a story to tell me.”
Mila leans against the counter. “When we were kids, our father used to have meetings that included all the most influential men in the state. It was a sort of sizing up of each other, cloaked behind a façade of professional civility. The main players would take turns to host, and one year, it was my father’s turn. The Bellasio don decided to bring his son along.”
“Benedict?”
“Benedict,” Mila confirms darkly. “He was nineteen or twenty at the time. Ilarion was a couple years younger. They were both at a point where they were being included in some things concerning the ‘family business,’ but not all. I guess Benedict felt he was old enough to have a seat at the table, and he got pissed when his father shut the door on his face.”
