19. Gia

Playing tourist with Sal is…fun.

More than just fun. It's addicting.

And I know I'm not the only one who thinks so.

The first castle that we stay at has a name with more consonants than should exist in a sentence together, but Sal rented out the whole thing, so we have it to ourselves.

He shows me inside, and then when the staff close the doors, he winks. "Your palace, my queen."

I laugh. "Okay, laying it on a little thick?"

"I don't know. I think it fits you. You've never been a princess or a damsel in distress, Gia. You've always been my queen."

The emphasis on the word my feels like it lingers…

But instead of freaking out, I let it soak in.

Maybe I am Sal's queen.

That doesn't feel… terrible.

He gestures to the stairs. "This way, my lady."

I laugh. "Thank you, good sir."

"Good sir?" he teases me as we walk up the tiny winding staircase.

"Okay I don't know how people talked back in the day!"

"Good sir makes me feel like your butler."

There's a small chamber at the top of the stairs that opens up into a landing. Two massive doors, covered in wood and iron details, seal the room beyond.

I pause. "Well. That's definitely medieval looking."

Sal smiles and unlocks the doors, pushing them open.

"Sal," I whisper as we walk inside. "It's gorgeous."

The room is incredible. It might be in a castle but they've done some work to make it airy and light, and the space is filled with a blend of modern luxuries and priceless antiques. There's even what looks like a private patio beyond two more glass doors, and I skip into the room, marveling at it.

"You like it?"

I beam at Sal. "I love it. How did you know about this place?"

"Google."

I laugh as he moves our bags into the closet. When Sal turns back to me, I wrap my arms around him, my nose brushing against his.

"Hey," he whispers, smiling against my mouth.

"This is nice," I say back.

When I lean in to kiss him, it starts out slow. I'm just thanking him for the way he put all this together…

But then the kiss deepens.

Moments later, I'm clawing at him. Our clothes fly off of our bodies like leaves in a summer storm. Sal groans as his fingers run over my body, and I lick the sound from his lips.

When he puts me down on the couch, we're both desperate.

I gasp as he fills me. "Damn," I whisper.

I forget how big he is.

It's a shock, but it's one that I think I might crave.

Sal takes my mouth again as he pounds in to me. His fingers drift down my body to my core, and he tweaks at my clit.

I don't need any further guidance. I explode, clutching him to me as my orgasm rips over my body.

Sal groans, gripping my hip so hard it might bruise…

But I feel him follow me.

For a minute, we both lay there, panting. I look up at Sal.

"No games this time?" I whisper.

He blinks, then a small smile curls at the ends of his lips. "No games, Gia. I just needed you. Bad," he murmurs.

I lean in and kiss him. "Same. And you know what? There's time for games later."

Sal's eyes glint with a wicked promise.

"There is definitely time for games later, Gia."

* * *

"I thinkwe should stay a little longer," Sal says later that night as we recline, sitting on our private patio. I've lost track of them at this point because they're really cool and I kind of want to see all of them.

I smile at him. "You do?"

"Yes. Everything seems stable. There's not been any new information about Interpol. No one is having a problem. Dino got back to New York earlier this week. Why not?"

I pick at my nails. "Oh, probably the threat of being dragged in by Interpol?"

"Gia. They haven't found us yet. Right?"

His eyes sparkle.

So far our cover of being a honeymooning couple has worked. Beautifully, actually. Every single Irish person who hears that we're here on our honeymoon has been absolutely overflowing with joy, and we've gotten a fair amount of perks out of it.

Not that we need them.

Sal, thinking that the best cover is being rich, has gone all out.

He's booked the nicest hotels.

Rented out entire castles.

He rents us a new car in every city, something vintage and fun that can cruise us through the Irish countryside at a painfully slow speed.

He's right.

So far, it's working.

I smile.

"Let's do it."

So, one week turns into two.

And two?

Turns into three.

Nearly a month after we arrived in Ireland, Sal and I are sitting in the last ultra-luxury palace hotel we haven't stayed in. It's just a game now. Stay in as many hotels as possible, visit all the castles.

Have sex.

Cuddle in each other's arms.

Then wake up and do it all again.

It's sort of like the best version of Groundhog Day.

Definitely not a version that I hate, for sure.

I lean back, having consumed way too many cookies with my tea. "I love it here."

"Which one was your favorite?"

I frown. There's been so many good options to choose from. "I don't know. Maybe that little one right on the coast?"

"It's yours," he whispers.

I blink. "What?"

"I bought it for you."

"Sal…"

He shrugs. "It would really fuck the Irish up to know that I own some castles, right?"

"Some?"

He smiles at me.

My heart feels like it's going to explode. Sal is… he's perfect. These past two weeks, with just the two of us, the rest of the world not existing?

It's perfect.

I don't let myself believe that this could be real. The amount of sex alone should have killed me a while ago.

But it didn't.

We haven't had anything close to the really tender moment on the boat. Sal has been introducing me, increment by increment, into more and more of the type of sex he enjoys.

I'm not even nervous to say it anymore.

I'm into some kinky stuff.

At this point, it's not even ‘the sex that Sal likes."

I love it.

Maybe I just love it with him but… the fact that we've been consistently exploring more feels fantastic.

Not at all smothering like the boat.

I really don't want to get back to the real world. Pretending to be Sal's fiancé is fun.

I know it could never be real.

But it kind of makes me wonder…

No. I shut that thinking down. "How many castles are some castles, Sal?"

"You'll find out. I'm sure."

I make it a point to investigate that. But not yet.

For now, we're nearing the end of our time. Our fake visas are for a vacation, and a month is really pushing it. Technically we have ninety days before we'd be on the Garda's, and therefore Interpol's, radar, but still.

We need to get back to New York.

Getting back there, though…

I've never been this reluctant to leave a job. Ever.

Sal is a big part of that. If there was a world where I could be a boss and stay with him?

I'd do that in a heartbeat.

I can't though. Not only is it impossible because stupid mafia men would think he's in charge, it's just too risky. The only relationship that I can have with Sal that's committed in any way is a fake one.

I need to remember that. I need to break this illusion before I get too attached to it. I'm not meant for happily ever after's, families with white-picket fences, and husbands who buy me castles just for fun.

All of that is for other women. Not for women like me. Not for women with something to prove. Sal's close enough. I don't need him getting any closer to the one thing I've never given any man.

My heart.

I need to shut all of this down, however, before I lose control entirely. Sal can't have my heart if I don't give it to him, but when he pays me in great sex and castles… yeah. I really want to.

I have to stop this.

Even if doing that feels like the absolute wrong thing to do.

I sigh and reach down to where my phone is chiming lightly. I glance at it.

It's an email. From an unknown address.

I pick up my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. I click on it.

It's from… my doctor.

Normally I would pay zero attention to a reminder email from my doctor. But for some reason I click on it, signing in to the communication platform, and I open the message.

We'd like to remind you that the following routine care items need to be renewed…

I scan the list.

They're all routine things. Health tasks, an appointment reminder, a quick note about nothing in particular. It's a good, comprehensive look at my health, and a little shiver of guilt pings through me.

I haven't been to the doctor in… a long time. At least a year. I should really probably get a tetanus shot, given the nature of my work, but my eyes lock on one little line, one particular reminder, that makes panic sink into my stomach.

It's the shot I use for birth control.

The one that I told Sal I definitely had.

The one that I definitely thought was up to date but…

I haven't renewed it in over a year.

It's supposed to be renewed every three months.

No.

No, no, no.

"Gia?"

I put the phone down and do my best to smile. "I'm good. Just an email reminding me to make a doctor's appointment," I reassure him.

The best lies contain just a little bit of truth.

Inside, my mind is whirling. I'm doing mental math that seems more or less useless, as I'm not really regular with my period anyway, but it's happening all the same.

Sal squeezes my hand. "What do you want to do this afternoon?"

Find a pregnancy test. "Oh, I don't know. I'm feeling a little tired. Maybe just nap?"

"We can do that," he growls.

I sigh. "But I also really want that cake for later. You know. The one from the last town?"

God, I feel terrible for this. But I know exactly what's going to happen next.

Sal smiles.

Nods.

And gets up to go drive three hours to get me a piece of cake.

Which means that I have three hours, exactly, to find a pregnancy test.

Take it.

And then either breathe a huge sigh of relief…

Or figure out what the hell I'm going to do next.

* * *

The thingabout five-star hotels is that they really do take the whole ‘service with a smile' thing seriously. The hotel concierge manages to find me a pregnancy test, the early detection kind, within about twenty minutes of me calling down.

He even believed me when I told him that I hadn't told the mister yet, so I would please appreciate his discretion.

I feel bad about that one, too.

The bellman delivers me a very discrete looking package, and I do have to say that I'm impressed. In any other situation, I'd write a nice review and let all my friends know this is the place to stay.

The situation, however, is not different.

And I need to figure this out. Tests acquired, I sit down to use one.

I always thought that people weren't serious about the whole ‘waiting on two pink lines' thing. I've taken flu tests before, so I thought I kind of generally understood what all the fuss was about, but…

I didn't.

Because waiting to see if you have the flu and waiting to see if you're going to have a tiny human are two entirely different things.

There's no way that I can be pregnant.

Sure, Sal and I have had a lot of sex. Most of it unprotected.

But there hasn't been enough time.

Women aren't consistently fertile. Even for someone who has a pregnancy, it's kind of a miracle, because like… you really have to hit the timing well.

I almost laugh at my own joke because generally, Sal's timing is…

Pretty incredible.

Except not in this situation.

This would be…

My chest feels like there's a lead weight on it. If I had a baby, all my dreams of being a mafia don slip right out the window. Being a woman and leading a business is one thing.

Being a mom?

It would never happen.

When my phone chimes that the time is up, I take the test in a shaking hand. I let out a huge breath, looking down to see if it's done.

It is.

There's a result.

And when I count the lines…

There are two.

My first thought is that this can't be right. So, I whip out another test (God bless the concierge for getting multiple) and do my best to pee on it again. When I can't, I look around…

Water.

That's what I need.

I chug water. I wait a little.

And I go for it again.

In theory, I know that at some point I will have drank too much water to make the test effective, but who knows. Maybe that's when I'll finally get the result that's accurate.

Three tests later, they all say the same thing.

Positive.

Pregnant.

Yes.

Every single one of them is lined up in front of me, and Sal is going to be back at any minute, with a cake that I sent him on a fool's errand for.

I put my head in my hands.

How the fuck did this happen?

Okay, I know how it happened. The words It's okay, I'm on the shot and I just want you have been said. A lot. So often, in fact, that Sal didn't even say anything about it the last time we had sex.

Having sex without protection is apparently our thing.

I laugh, and the bitter sound echoes around the bathroom.

I've never really put thought into being a mom.

I'm definitely not the type of person who wants to be a mom in the way that I've seen other people be moms.

Like, the cutesy stuff is not for me.

My kid would probably be the one trying to hustle the other ones out of their lunch money. They'd know cuss words in nine languages.

I'd go to jail because they wouldn't ever go to school.

I'm not meant for picket fences in Jersey.

My kid would know too much about the world too soon.

"Gia?"

My head in my hands, I take one minute to collect myself. I swipe all the pregnancy tests into a drawer, then try to jam it shut by putting a towel on the metal runners on the side. Sal would look in the trash.

He won't question a broken drawer in an old castle.

"Coming," I call. I run the water, wash my hands, and smile.

I have no clue what to do.

But I know that I'm definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent not ready to tell Sal.