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How will he react? I bite my lip as I imagine telling him. He’ll be content. It’s what he wanted. Then panic strikes when I remember his plan to take my baby away from me. It’s the one thing I won’t survive. I already love this little life more than my own. My soul will die if he denies me the right to my child. I don’t want someone else to hold my baby in her arms and rock her to sleep. I don’t want my husband to do it without me. I don’t want to be banished any longer, left here alone. I want to be with my family. I’ll fight tooth and nail if he tries to tear this child away from me.
Suddenly exhausted, I flop down on the closed lid of the toilet. How can my mood swing from joy to despair in the span of a few seconds? Tapping into my newfound strength, I take a few calming breaths. We’ll just have to work through our issues. Angelo doesn’t trust me, but he’ll have to give me the benefit of the doubt. We’ll both have to work at making our twisted relationship work. We owe it to our baby. We have to create a healthy environment in which to raise a child.
When Angelo told me he noticed me as a girl on the verge of becoming a woman on my sixteenth birthday, he admitted that the spark I felt wasn’t one-sided. He did feel something too. That’s the hope I cling to. He wants me physically. He’s always made sure I know that. However, there’s more to his feelings than lust. There’s also caring and protectiveness.
I want this to work. Angelo was right when he said it’s time to stop this war. It’s time to tell him that I love him. It’s time to forgive so that we can move on. A part of me always held back because of my dad. I didn’t want to betray him. I loved him too much to fall in love with the man who stood by while his father put a bullet in my dad’s head. I owed my dad everything. How could I repay him by giving my heart to the man who pushed the gun in his lifeless hand and staged his murder as suicide?
I understand why my dad did what he did to prevent Angelo from marrying me. He wanted to spare me this life. He wanted better for me than a crime boss for a husband, a man whose family is despised in his own country. The truth is that I fell in love with my dark angel from the moment I met him, and I’ve loved him ever since. I loved him even when I hated him. Yes, it’s time to be honest. Not only for me, but for all of us—Angelo, the kids, and this baby who’s now a part of our family.
As I come to terms with my past and my future, calmness settles over me. For once, my heart beats right. This is the end of the road. The end of the war. All my dad ever wanted for me was to be happy. He’ll understand. He’ll forgive me.
As soon as my mind is made up, the permanent tension flows from my muscles. My body relaxes like it hasn’t in years. I haven’t even realized how stressed I was until this moment. The feeling of freedom returns. It’s as if I’m drifting on a cloud, filled with love and gratitude.
I close my eyes and savor the peace, simply enjoying being still and reveling in the marvel of the secret I carry in my womb. I love being alive. Every breath I drag into my lungs tastes sweet.
The slamming of the front door alerts me to a visitor. My pulse quickens. Please let it be Angelo. I’m eager to share the news. How do I do it? Do I just hand him the test? Do I tell him over a special dinner? Do I pour out my heart and beg him to give us a chance, or do I give him a couple of days to digest the fact?
Footsteps fall hard on the stairs. In my excitement, I almost forgot that there’s still the subject of Lieutenant Lavigne to discuss. Angelo will want answers, and I’m ready to give them to him.
I get up and go to the room to meet him. He enters the bedroom with long strides and stops dead when he sees me. The expression on his face catches me off guard. His features are schooled, but there’s something so wild in his eyes that I hold my tongue, waiting for him to speak.
He’s immaculately dressed as always, looking as if he’s about to walk into a boardroom meeting in his white fitted shirt and dark tailored pants. Yet he seems out of sorts. He showered recently. His hair is still damp. I can smell the soap on his skin. The subtle citrus and cedar notes of his cologne don’t mask that clean, freshly-showered scent.
Kicking back into action, he crosses the floor and reaches for me. He wraps his fingers around my nape and pulls me to him. His other hand is warm on my back as he presses my body against his and cradles my face against his chest.
We stand like that for a moment, neither of us speaking. The beat of his heart is fierce under my ear.
When I can’t take the suspense any longer, I pull away. “What’s the matter?”
He stares down at me. “I have to go away for a day.”
I tense. “Business?”
He nods.
“When?” I ask.
He strokes a thumb over my nape and moves his hand from my back to my hip. “I’m going now, as soon as I leave here.”
His touch is different—less possessive and more tender—but he’s preoccupied. The look in his eyes turns distant, as if he’s already where he’s heading, which seems miles from here. From me. It’s obviously not the moment to tell him the news. But I do have a question before he goes.
“Is it true?” I search his eyes. “Did you install cameras in the house?”
He doesn’t as much as blink. “For your own safety.”
“Don’t you understand how wrong that is?”
His face hardens with the obstinance I came to know so well. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping you safe.”
“You know Lieutenant Lavigne was here.”
A shutter drops in front of his eyes, leaving his expression blank. “Of course.”
“What were you hoping to achieve?”
“We’ll talk when I get back. There’s a lot we need to say.”
I can’t agree more.
