13. Isabella

Chapter 13

Isabella

My lungs are burning, telling me to breathe, because I’ve been holding my breath since I told him - not even realizing I’m doing it.

He has hardly moved at all.

He’s sitting there staring at Dante, not saying a single word.

I know - it’s a lot to take in. He must have a thousand thoughts and overwhelming emotions. I need to wait.

He will say something soon.

We can talk about it.

I can tell him why I kept it a secret.

I can explain.

I have to be patient because he’s processing right now.

An eternity goes by and he still hasn’t spoken. My stomach is tightening. Knotting and churning and I’m uncomfortable.

I’m about to say his name, to draw his attention away from our son. But before my lips open, he stands up.

He takes one stride towards me and places Dante in my arms.

What does this mean? I look at him, our eyes locked, waiting for him to say anything at all.

“Do not dare leave this apartment.”

Taken aback my tongue is frozen in my mouth. Is that it?

Is that his entire reaction to finding out he has a son?

Nico walks right out of my apartment.

He leaves me.

The door closes behind him, clicking into place with the automatic lock.

He’s gone.

He said nothing, but he looked furious. There was so much anger in his eyes when he gave Dante back to me. I don’t understand.

Standing up, my baby in my arms, I hurry to the door and open it, looking up and down the passageway outside my apartment.

Nico is gone. He isn’t even waiting at the elevators so he must have taken the stairs.

I want to run after him. I want to shout his name and beg him to talk to me. But I can’t. I can’t bring myself to step out of the perceived safety of my apartment. Marcus is out there.

The ingrained fear of my ex far outweighs my need to speak to Nico.

I’m not going outside now.

Besides - Nico is already furious, and he told me to stay here. I don’t want to make it worse between us by disobeying him.

Closing the door I lock both dead bolts again.

What should I do?

Marcus is here. He might show up at any moment.

I clutch Dante more tightly, desperate to protect him.

But the poor little baby is picking up my energy, and it’s making him agitated and moody. He cries and no matter what I do I can’t seem to settle him down.

It’s me - it’s my anxiety seeping into him.

Placing Dante into his bouncing chair I let go of him and rock the chair, trying to sooth him without touching him because I know he can sense my tension. I don’t want to do that to him. It’s not fair of me.

Nico’s reaction to finding out Marcus was here - and that he has a son - it was intense. But I’m not stupid. It isn’t just because of me he has issues with Marcus. Marcus and Nico were enemies before I came into the picture - and it’s no secret that Nico is involved in the mafia. I’ve always known because Lina was never secretive about it.

She told me a lot about her family and her brother’s businesses - well - whatever she knew.

Enough to clarify that Nico isn’t exactly above board with how he makes his money.

Nico is hiding a lot from me.

I’ve known for a while.

It’s not like my family was innocent either. I come from a long line of mobsters - my father sold me off to the man who could give him the best alliance, not caring what happened to me after the deal was done.

I know how this world works. I have been branded into it since I was little.

Glancing over at the front door a sudden paranoia hits me.

Did I lock it?

I stand up and hurry over to it.

I did.

I walk to the window after checking the door and stare down at the street. It’s still quiet outside, but it’s growing darker as the sun sets.

People could hide anywhere. They could watch me.

I step away from the window and close the curtain.

Should I keep the lights off in the apartment?

Will it make any difference?

Where is Nico?

How long does he expect me to stay here?

Dante is crying again so I hurry back over to him and scoop him into my arms.

“I’m so sorry, little one.” I cuddle him into my neck, walking in circles around the living room.

Me holding him is still making it worse so I feed him and put him to bed. Then to distract myself I make dinner. I work, chopping vegetables, making a creamy sauce, boiling pasta - but I’m in a daze and I burn the sauce and forget to add the veggies to the pan.

It’s not as though I could have eaten anyway - not with how tight my stomach is.

I’ve never felt this kind of anxiety before. Not even the night I left Marcus - the night I ran away from our wedding.

At least back then I was making a choice, and I knew what that choice was. Right now I don’t know anything. I have no idea what is going on.

Scraping the destroyed, wasted food, into the bin I clean up. Cleaning is more soothing than cooking and for just a little while I’m clear-headed.

But once the dishes are done and there is nothing else to distract myself with the anxiety comes right back - deeper than before.

It’s pitch dark outside, ominous and dangerous.

I’ve only got one small lamp on in my apartment and it’s too bright. Like a beacon telling Marcus where I am.

It’s ridiculous. He would have been here already if he knew where I was - surely?

I should try to get some sleep. Like that’s going to be possible.

I snort a bitter laugh and it sounds too loud in my apartment.

“Calm down, Bella, come on.” I whisper to myself.

Peeking into Dante’s room I reassure myself that he is safe and cozy.

Then I head to the bathroom and flick the shower on.

Hot water kneads into my muscles, momentarily easing away a little bit of the tension locked inside my shoulders and neck.

I sigh, fighting tears, which no one would see beneath the spraying water. But that’s not the point. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to be this afraid.

I want to be strong and be able to face up to Marcus.

Another impossible idea.

Marcus would kill me.

Or worse - he would drag me back to his home and force me to live out my life with him.

I would rather die that suffer that.

But - I am a mother - and that means my responsibility and every choice I make is for my son. I need to find my strength - for the sake of that little baby.

The relief of tension from the hot shower only lasts as long as the water flows. As soon as I switch it off - it’s gone, and the anxiety is back.

I drag myself to bed, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, I climb beneath the covers and stare at the ceiling, alone in the dark and thinking about everything that might happen from here on out.

Nico just left. He didn’t reassure me or tell me he would help me. He’s angry, and he has a right to be - so I can’t expect him to help me this time.

I have to make my own choices - for my baby and for myself.

Tossing and turning, heavy with exhaustion and stress, the hours roll by and my restlessness only gets worse and worse.

When my phone chimes in the very small hours of the night I am almost willing to ignore it. Not wanting to see who it is or what they have to say.

There is already too much on my mind and I don’t need more stress.

But the stress of not knowing becomes worse than ignoring it, I reach out and pick up my phone.

Nico: We are going to talk about this tomorrow.

That’s all he says.

Nothing good. Nothing gentle or caring or reassuring.

Just that.

And it causes my anxiety to triple.

I have no idea what to expect from him, but from that message I can already tell it will not be good.

So, fine, he isn’t going to be there for me - or his son.

I’ve been taking care of myself for a year. I can keep doing it. I can make my own decisions and stay strong because I have no other choice.