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I blush, realizing my secret belief came to the surface due to my anxiety. “I don’t actually know,” I say shyly. “I just have a feeling.”
“I can tell you the sex at twelve weeks if you’d like to know for sure,” the doctor says.
“Does that mean the baby’s okay?” Leo asks, practically hovering over us now.
Rather than answering Leo directly, Dr. Luca turns his soft eyes to me. “You and the baby are both fine. No signs of distress or complications, though it does look like you bumped your head,” he says, his voice calm and measured. “No concussion, though.”
Relief washes over me like a tidal wave, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Thank you, Doctor,” I manage to say, my voice shaky. The weight of worry lifts from my shoulders.
“Will you check Tia’s ankle, too, while you’re here?” Leo asks, his tone gruffer than before. “She hurt it during the fall.”
“I got caught up in some roots,” I explain, leaving out the details of my tumble to avoid too many questions I won’t have answers to.
The doctor shifts to examine my ankle, his fingers probing gently. I hiss as he finds a particularly tender spot, and to my right, Leo shifts uncomfortably—like he would rather not be in the room.
“It’s a sprain, Signora Moretti. Nothing too serious. It shouldn’t take much longer than a week to heal, but you’ll need to take it easy for a while. I’ll wrap it up for you, and I recommend using ice to reduce swelling. Rest is crucial. Keep weight off it as much as possible,” the doctor advises as he wraps the tender joint. “And if the pain persists, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
I nod gratefully, and the doctor stands, putting his equipment back in his bags.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Leo says curtly.
“Of course.” Dr. Luca excuses himself, leaving Leo and me alone in the room.
The silence between us is stifling, and I can sense a storm brewing within my husband.
But before he can say whatever is on his mind, the door bursts open, and my sister Maria rushes in, eyes wide with worry.
“I saw the doctor leaving, and someone said you fell,” she blurts out, her gaze flicking suspiciously between Leo and me. Then her eyes widen in astonishment as she takes in our collectively disheveled state.
Leo’s still shirtless, a smattering of grit coating his fine muscles. He grumbles something about using a guest room to get cleaned up, then he heads for the exit, slamming the door unceremoniously behind him. Left alone with Maria, I release a breath and smile.
“Are you okay, Tia? Is the baby?” she asks, concern etched on her face as she helps me sit more comfortably on the bed.
I give her a small smile, grateful for her presence. “I’m fine, Maria. Just a sprained ankle. The baby’s okay, too,” I assure her, my voice tinged with exhaustion.
“Thank goodness,” she gushes, pulling me close for a hug. “Can I help you wash up without letting that bandage get dirty?” she offers, pointing to the wrap the doctor just put on.
“That would be amazing,” I confess, suddenly aware of the sweat and dust that clings to my body.
I give her instructions as to where the supplies would be, and she scurries about, collecting a bowl of warm water, a washcloth, and some fresh clothes. Then she settles onto the bed beside me once more.
As Maria helps me clean up, toweling me off without aggravating my injured ankle, a sense of normalcy returns. The familiarity of my sister’s touch and the concern in her eyes offer a comforting contrast to the chaos that has unfolded today.
“So, tell me, what’s been going on at home?” I ask lightly, not quite ready to dive into thoughts on my life when I’ve hardly had time to think them through myself since I called Maria earlier today.
Maria glances toward the door to make sure we’re alone, and that subtle gesture is enough to tell me that I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear.
“Father’s been pretty aggravated about the alliance this whole last week,” Maria admits.
My heart drops into my stomach at the foreboding news. “Really? Why?”
Maria shakes her head. “You know Father. He doesn’t talk about the business in front of us. But I did overhear him talking to Mother about how the Morettis are using it as an excuse to order Guerra men around. And they’ve been crossing our territory lines all over town.”
“Has Father done anything about it?” I ask, worry tinging my tone as I think about what I witnessed in the woods today.
Could that happen to my family if my father gets too vocal?
Leo wouldn’t flat-out murder an ally, would he? Not one who’s the father of his wife, surely. Then again, I can’t say that I really know Leo at all after today. It feels like every time I think I’ve found my footing around him, he pulls the rug out from under me.
