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My grip is so tight on my phone that I’m surprised it doesn’t break.
Finally, I swipe the screen. “This is Moretti.”
Because, at the end of the day, I still have a job to do. And once I do it, I’m going to do whatever it takes to get my wife back.
23
Isabetta
I walk around the apartment, looking around the living room and kitchen. Everything is new and fresh. It’s nice, but it doesn’t feel like home. My eyes water. But I’ll just have to make it my home, won’t I?
The building is close enough to Alessandro’s building that I can see it when I look out my window. I’m not sure if that was intentional, but I think maybe it was. Hard to forget someone when you can literally see the place where they live…where you used to live. Not that I’m going to forget him anytime soon. My hand goes to my stomach. Once I’m settled, I’m going to buy a test. If it confirms what I think is true, then my next step will be finding an obstetrician. I’ll worry about the rest later. The rest being finding an attorney to get a divorce and to get access to my inheritance. I have money in my account, but it won’t last forever. Sooner or later I’m going to need the money Nonna left behind. My eyes water at the thought of Nonna. God, what would she say to me right now?
She’d say something like, “You can do this,amorina. You are my granddaughter, which makes you strong.”
The thought gives me hope.
I sit on the couch and exhale. It's so quiet. Too quiet. Donna offered to come with me, but I didn’t want to take her from Alessandro. She seemed torn but agreed to stay with him if I’d let her bring over a meal now and then. Of course I said yes. Should I have let her come? I hate being alone, but the thought of Alessandro being alone when he is home guts me. I can’t do that to him. No, he needs Donna more than I do.
A dull ache forms between my eyes. I’m not going to accomplish anything, so I might as well go to bed.
The next week goes by like this. Finally, on the fifth day, I decide I’ve had enough. I have things I need to take care of, so it’s time to stop moping around. Using my phone, I google divorce attorneys in Vegas and pick a woman with a high rating and thousands of reviews. She agrees to meet me later this afternoon, which is good. Right? Like, the thought shouldn’t make me want to cry and call her back to cancel. And I’m definitely not avoiding the other issue…the one where I might be pregnant. Not at all.
For the first time since I arrived at my new place, I take the elevator to the first floor. The doorman greets me.
“Hello, Mrs. Moretti. How can I help you?”
“Please call me Ms. Bass.”
He doesn’t bat an eye. “Of course, Ms. Bass. How may I help you today?”
“I need to get here, please.” I show him the piece of paper I wrote the address on.
“Of course. I believe your car is outside, waiting.”
“My car?”
“Mr. Moretti informed us you’d be traveling in his vehicle at all times. Is this incorrect?”
I’m torn. I don’t want to take anything from Alessandro, but I know he’s doing this because he wants me to be safe. As much as I want to refuse, I nod.
“It’s correct. Can you point me toward the car?”
He leads me outside to a black sedan. The driver gets out, opening the back door for me. I’ve seen him before when I went out with Alessandro.
“Mrs. Moretti.”
Ugh.
“Please call me Ms. Bass,” I say as I slide into the backseat.
The door closes, and the man rounds the car, getting in the driver’s seat.
“Where to, Mrs. Moretti?”
I hand him the piece of paper and say again, “Call me Ms. Bass, please.”
He nods and pulls away from my building. Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the attorney’s office. The driver gets out, opening my door for me.
