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This one is not ectopic, alright. It’s a fucking twin pregnancy.
“Sophie?” Nico says, bringing my mind back to the present.
And since there’s no time like the present, I take a deep breath and blow it out. “I have something to tell you, Nico.”
Wow, that was smooth.
He looks at me, waiting patiently.
Butterflies churn in my stomach, and I’m pretty sure the sudden urge to vomit has nothing to do with morning sickness.
Suck it up, and spit it out, Soph.
“So, you remember your parents’ anniversary? The day we went to your family’s home for dinner?” I swallow, and my voice drops. “The bathroom?”
Nico smiles lasciviously and nods. “Sì, I remember.”
“Well, Nico, it seems an introduction to the Vitellis wasn’t all you gave to me that day.”
His brow furrows. There is no dawning light coming on in his eyes.
Ugh, come on. Any woman would have gotten that hint.
“I’m pregnant, Nico,” I finally blurt out.
There, I did it. See? Totally not a coward. All that’s left is to tell him they’re twins.
He looks at me for a moment like he’s waiting for the punch line, and then he glances down at my stomach. It’s still flat, but for the first time, I realize it’s not going to stay that way for much longer.
Dear Lord, I’m going to be huge.
I’m just on the verge of freaking out over that particular realization, when Nico looks back up at me, then grins from ear to ear. I swear, he’s standing up straighter like he’s already got that proud-papa posture going on.
“Are you okay with this?” I ask. We never talked about babies. Maybe he’s in shock. Or maybe he didn’t hear me right. “I said I’m having our babies,” I explain, adding the emphasis just to make sure we’re on the same wavelength here.
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Si, I got that. I knocked you up. I got you pregnant. I put my baby inside of you,” he says in wonder.
Well, yeah, but that’s not the only point here. “Babies, Nico.”
He huffs out a laugh. “I heard you. That’s so fucking hot, amore mio.”
Relief washes over me as I lean into him. “I’m so glad you feel that way because—”
Suddenly he goes rigid, his face paling as he grasps the full meaning of what I just said. “Wait a second, Sophie. Did you just say ‘babies’?”
My heart pounds as I confirm with a nod.
“Fucking hell, Dio mio, this must be karma coming back at me.” He gulps, then asks in a strained voice. “Just how many are we talking about?”
“Two,” I manage to say softly.
He exhales a huge breath of relief. “Just two? Two is fine. I can definitely work with two. Thank fuck!”
His reaction puzzles me to no end. “Why, Nico, were you expecting more?”
In response, he simply whips out his cell phone and shows me a conversation. It’s between him and Enzo, one of his Capos, and it’s dated last week.
Boss, I'm fucked. There are six of them! SIX! Madonna, but what the fuck am I gonna do with six kids? I fucking warned Connie about this IVF shit. I warned her, Nico. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.
