Chapter 19

NINETEEN

Sabella

After the lieutenant's visit, I don't go to the village. I'm too worried Angelo will show up, demanding to know what we talked about outside. Of course, he won't believe me when I tell him I didn't sell him out, and if he doesn't believe me, he doesn't deserve my honesty.

I keep busy by baking—I discovered that I enjoy the activity—and by cleaning the house. The garden is mostly self-sustained, the indigenous plants not requiring additional watering, but some of the bushes need pruning in preparation for spring. I make a mental note to remind Angelo to send his garden service company. I know a little about gardening from what I picked up when my mom gave our gardener instructions, but, like with cooking, I'm a beginner at this.

As I flip through the channels on the television to distract myself in the afternoon, I notice the date on the news channel. I put aside the remote, uneasiness spreading through me as I do a mental calculation.

My period should've started by now, but only by a couple of days. It's nothing. I'm often late. However, four weeks have passed. The pregnancy test should show results by now.

I leave the television on in my haste to go upstairs. Once I'm in the dressing room, I freeze. I'm scared. I miss Mattie. I wish I didn't have to do this alone. I can do with a bit of moral support. Mrs. Campana will be understanding, but it's too late to go to the village. Even with the bike, I won't make it back before sunset, and after the lieutenant's visit, there's no doubt that Angelo will show up tonight.

My hands shake when I take the test from the clutch bag in which I hid it. In the bathroom, I tear the package open and read the instructions twice. Cold sweat beads on my forehead as I uncap the stick and get ready to pee on it. I almost abandon it at the last minute, but I got the test for a reason, so I may as well go through with it.

I imagine the relief when it turns out negative. I'll be able to relax with a glass of wine. I'll get on with my messy life without having to drag an innocent baby into it. Angelo won't force me to have children, not after he promised.

A part of me is scared for a different reason. I'm scared that I'll be disappointed if the test is negative. It's a bizarre notion, one I can't explain.

Scraping together my courage, I do what needs to be done. My nerves are all over the place when I wash my hands and count the seconds in my head. I don't even get to thirty before two blue lines appear in the window on the stick.

It's impossible.

It can't be.

Yet the proof is right in front of my eyes.

I'm pregnant.

I'm going to have Angelo's baby.

Bracing my palms on the vanity, I support my weight on my arms. Sweat breaks out over my body. A rush of heat runs over my skin only to be doused by a wave of coldness. My head spins, leaving me dizzy.

A baby.

A tiny life growing inside me.

A sense of wonder washes over me. I place a trembling hand over my belly. A surge of protectiveness assaults me, and then follows joy. I've never experienced anything like it. It's different to my feelings for my family and my husband. Words can't define the love that bursts like a beautiful, fragile bubble inside me and fills every molecule of my being.

"Oh my God," I whisper with a soft laugh, tears building in my eyes.

Happiness takes on a new meaning. I'm dumbstruck with awe, but I'm also frightened. Yet I don't wish for a different outcome. Despite the many reasons why a baby in our world is a bad idea, I'm grateful the test is positive.

I have no one to share the news with other than the reflection in the mirror. The face of the woman smiling back at me is already radiant with the secret she carries. She's different, this woman. Her love feels deeper. Bottomless. Her capacity for forgiveness is endless. This woman isn't afraid or uncertain of her future. She no longer cares about unimportant details. This woman is confident and strong.

Like the magnificent love that crashed over me, forgiveness burns like a purifying fire inside, incinerating all the bitterness and the blame. An enormous weight lifts off my shoulders. For the first time in years, I feel free. The chains of my past that kept me a prisoner of my own unhappiness are broken. My heart is so light it feels as if it will float to the ceiling. And as that incredible sensation washes over me, I know what my decision will be.

I choose my husband.

Angelo.

Angelo.

My darkness and my light.

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.

He releases me to take his phone from his pocket. I frown when he connects a call and hands me the phone. He wants me to speak to my family now? Not that I'm complaining. Only, it's not Ryan or my mom who answers. It's Colin.

"Hello?" Colin says when I fail to respond.

I study my husband for a clue of his motives and clear my throat. "Um, hi. It's Sabella."

Silence stretches.

"Can you hear me?" I ask.

"Yeah. Yeah. Sure. I'm just…surprised."

Angelo's earlier internal retreat vanishes. He's back in the moment, watching me with unwavering attention.

"It's been a while," I say awkwardly, still battling to understand my husband's intention. He's never been a fan of Colin. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," he says in a too bright tone. "You?"

There was a time when we were best friends. Are we really going to make small talk? "Ryan told me you and May got back together. Congratulations. I'm happy for you."

Silence.

"Colin?"

"Listen, Bella." Another pause. "I haven't heard from you in months."

"I'm sorry. It's not that I wasn't worried about you?—"

"I know." His tone is curt. "Ryan told me."

"Okay." This is so uncomfortable. "Then you understand."

I dare a glance at my husband, who's still studying me with dark, piercing eyes.

"I told May," Colin says. "About that day."

He means about what happened in the church when Angelo came barging in with guns and threatened to shoot my best friend for agreeing to marry me.

"Oh," I say.

"She's pregnant."

"May?" I exclaim. "Oh my God. That's wonderful news. Congratulations."

"With the baby on the way, we're getting married this winter."

"That's great. I'm so happy for both of you." I add with a smile, "Well, for the three of you."

"The thing is, May isn't so casual about the whole affair."

"About what?" I ask, my mouth going dry as a suspicion forms in my mind.

"We don't want trouble, Bella. With the baby and everything…"

I'm looking into Angelo's eyes instead of into Colin's as my childhood friend deals the blow. Sympathy sparks in my husband's gaze as Colin tells me he no longer wants to hear from me. And who can blame him after everything I put him through?

The most surprising aspect is that the rejection doesn't hit me as hard as I expected it to. My life is different now. Too many things happened. We both moved on. I'm no longer a part of my friends' lives. We outgrew each other. Even speaking to Colin now feels as if there's years between us instead of miles.

"I understand," I say. "Take care of May and the baby."

"You take care too."

His words have a ring of finality, but he doesn't end the call. He leaves the sad task of cutting the ties to me.

I press the red button and hand the phone to Angelo.

Something akin to victory washes over his expression even as he asks with uncharacteristic compassion, "You okay?"

"Was that your goal? To show me Colin never wants to hear from me again?"

He cups my cheek. "I didn't want to hurt you. I just needed to be sure how you feel about him."

"I always loved him as a friend. You know that."

He presses a kiss on my forehead. "Wait for me, cara."

The words conjure a memory of the day he came to my house with gifts for Pirate, asking me to wait for him. And I did. I waited. I never stopped waiting, not even after he betrayed me. But all that is in the past, and I'm ready to move on.

Before I can formulate a reply, he sets me free. He hesitates only for a second, and then he goes to that place I saw in his eyes, the one that made him look so tormented.