Just Breathe Series (Trilogy Box Set)

by Martha Sweeney

  Joe groans.

  “What’s wrong?” I say. “Don’t like having to share me?”

  “No,” he confirms, pressing me against the storage unit that is in the middle of his closet as he kisses me.

  “You’ve got a meeting. You won’t even be around for a few hours. Besides, you’re going to have to get used to that,” I tease. “This little guy . . . or little girl . . . is going to be very demanding of my attention.”

  “I know,” Joe sighs.

  “These,” I say, lifting my breasts. “You’ll have to share too.”

  Joe pouts. “Only for a little while,” he states. “Then, they’re all mine again.”

  “What if we have more than one?” I say.

  “So, you want more than one now?” he laughs.

  “I didn’t say that,” I challenge.

  “I don’t mind sharing if you’re open to the idea of more,” Joe says persuasively.

  “That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” I challenge.

  “Maybe I should ask you to marry me,” Joe says suddenly. “Sooner than later.”

  “What?” I gasp in surprise at his casualness.

  “If you’re considering more,” Joe returns, kissing me. “Then, that must me you do want to marry me.”

  I don’t reply.

  “We should get going,” Joe says, changing the subject after looking at his watch. “Dad and I need to get to the meeting . . . and the sooner the meeting happens, the sooner I get back to you.”

  “Sounds good, handsome,” I answer.

  “Handsome?” Joe repeats. “That’s the second time you’ve called me handsome. I think I really like that one.”

  “Oh, you do, Mr. Covelli?” I muse.

  “God, even when you say my name like that, it’s sexy,” Joe comments, pressing his erection into me more.

  “Tick tock,” I reply.

  Joe kisses me. “Say it again,” he requests.

  “Tick . . . .”

  “No,” he says, cutting me off. “The other thing.”

  “Mr. Covelli,” I repeat in my own sexy voice.

  Joe’s body physically shivers for a second. “God, the littlest things you say or do turns me on, beautiful.”

  “Really?” I check, sliding my fingers up his leg.

  “Really,” he confirms. “You could read a whole business report with that voice and I’d probably cum in my pants.”

  “Really?” I muse, trying hard not to laugh. “I’d like to see that.”

  “Tonight?” Joe investigates.

  “It’s a date,” I confirm.

  “And here I used to have to fight to get you to go on a date with me,” Joe teases.

  “Ha ha,” I reply.

  Twenty minutes later, Joe, Sadie, Anna and I are exiting the elevator to his parents’ house onto the main floor. Anna leaves us after hanging my jacket in the closet, making her way toward the kitchen to see what assistance the other maids may need. Joe, Sadie and I head into the sitting room to wait for his parents.

  Before we sit down, Mrs. Covelli appears from around the corner, beaming with happiness. “Good morning,” she greets cheerfully, hugging and kissing us both.

  “Good morning,” Joe and I return in unison.

  “How are you feeling?” Mrs. Covelli asks me.

  “Good, thank you,” I reply.

  Mrs. Covelli’s hands gently pat my belly. “And, the baby?”

  “Good,” Joe chuckles. “Nothing’s changed since two days ago, mother.”

  “Well, can you blame me?” she replies. “I have another grand-baby on the way. I’m so excited and happy for the both of you.”

  “Ah, there you are,” Mr. Covelli comments as he enters the room.

  “Father,” Joe greets.

  “John,” I say. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You as well, my dear,” Mr. Covelli replies, hugging me. “How are you two and my grand-baby?”

  “Good,” I laugh.

  “Wonderful,” John answers. “I hate to dash off, but Joseph and I really must leave for our meeting. There are a few things we need to discuss with the team prior.”

  “That’s fine, darling,” Mrs. Covelli accepts. “The two of us have lots to do and talk about before our lunch with the girls.”

  “Watch out for this one, Emma,” Mr. Covelli comments with a grin. “Before the end of the day, she and the girls will have you registered for everything you’ll need and more for the baby . . . and that’s just for while you and Joe are visiting here on the East Coast.”

  “What?” I question half joking and excited by the idea.

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Covelli defends. “Before they leave to go back to California, yes . . . but, not before the end of the day. There’s too much to do for it all to be done in a day.”

  “Alright, my love,” Mr. Covelli says with a hint of disbelief and playfulness in his tone.

  “You boys go,” Mrs. Covelli shoos. “I’ve got the family photos and Joe’s baby pictures to show Emma.”

  “What?” Joe asks nervously.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “Oh, hush,” Mrs. Covelli directs. “She needs to know how cute our grand-baby is going to be . . . just like his daddy, no doubt.”

  “Mother,” Joe pleas.

  “Don’t,” she commands. “It will be done. Now, say your goodbyes and be on your way.”

  “Your mother did it with John, Daniel and David,” Mr. Covelli whispers to Joe, but loud enough to be heard by me and Mrs. Covelli. “It’s best not to fight her on this. You won’t win. Trust me.”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Covelli confirms with a confident expression.

  Joe leaves hesitantly with his father as Mrs. Covelli leads me over to the living room. Anna brings us a tray of tea and fruit after we get settled at the couch.

  “Is this all of them?” Mrs. Covelli inquires, glancing down at the photo albums.

  I count six of them.

  “No, Mrs. Covelli,” Mary replies. “There are ten more that I couldn’t carry on the first trip. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you, Mary,” Mrs. Covelli says as Mary is already halfway to the door.

  Sixteen — there are sixteen photo books? Holy crap.

  “Well,” Mrs. Covelli says. “Let’s get started, shall we? The girls will be coming around one for lunch, so we should be able to get through maybe half of these.”

  I take a deep breath and nod.

  After a whole hour, Mrs. Covelli and I have just started the second book — they’re thicker than most photo albums. I understand why she believes that we won’t see them all — especially since she has a story to tell me for practically each photo. Each picture of Joe is adorable — I swear they get cuter by page. The first book we looked at was Joe’s first year and each album after that is different with a mixture of photos of all the Covelli men. As we get to the middle of the second book, Joe’s age has only gone from newborn, in the first book, to the age of two in the current one we’re enjoying. By the time we start the next album, I excuse myself to use the restroom after having three cups of tea. When I return, Mrs. Covelli picks back up right where she left off with her stories.

  By eleven thirty, Anna has brought us some more snacks and we’re just about to crack open the fifth book. Mrs. Covelli proceeds right back into her storytelling and Anna takes Sadie out for a walk. By the time Anna and Sadie return, Mrs. Covelli and I have only reached the middle of the book and Joe has texted twice, checking in to make sure his mother hasn’t scared me off yet.

  “Mrs. Covelli,” Mary calls as she enters the room.

  “Yes, what is it, Mary?” she replies.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt you, ladies,” Mary begins, “but, there has been a discrepancy with the fabric you purchased for the curtains in your office. Should I bring them to you or . . . ?”

  “No, no. Thank you, Mary,” Mrs. Covelli replies. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Yes, Mrs. C
ovelli,” Mary returns and then exits the room.

  “I’ll hopefully just be a few moments, dear,” Mrs. Covelli says. “Keep looking and I’ll pick right back up when I get back.”

  “Sounds wonderful, Elaine,” I answer.

  Taking my hand in her’s, Mrs. Covelli looks at me lovingly, like she’s trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. “I know that the relationship between you and Joe is new . . . well, kind of new.” She smiles softly to herself. “Regardless of when it all happened . . . I want you to know that this child is a blessing, not only for the two of you, but also for this family. I’m proud of both of you and how you are handling this.”

  “Thank you,” I graciously accept, fighting the oncoming tears.

  “With that said,” she continues. “I want you to know that you and your baby will always have a place in this family.”

  Shit, here come the tears — now I understand why Maggie gets so emotional.

  “And, whether you marry him or not . . . which we all hope you do . . .” she winks at me, “. . . I hope that one day you can see us as your family,” she adds. “You are our family . . . we are tied by that beautiful baby growing inside you. You are a part of this family just as much as my other daughters-in-law.”

  “Thank you,” I choke.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Covelli returns, holding me. “Not to be pushy, but I wouldn’t mind if you marry Joe sooner than later.”

  I nervously giggle as a part of me hopes that Joe will ask.

  “And, I’d wouldn’t mind if you’re able to call me mom . . . not right away . . . but, maybe sometime in the future.” She pats the top of my hand.

  I can’t help but smile my appreciation.

  We each take a moment to compose ourselves, using tissues that Anna has offered to dab our eyes dry. Mrs. Covelli leaves me in the living room a few seconds later and Anna is quick to make sure I don’t need anything else before she continues helping the staff.

  “I’m good, thank you, Anna.”

  Anna smiles and nods before exiting the room.

  I take another sip of the tea to calm my nerves before turning the next page of the photo album. My fingers trace over each photo of Joe, finding myself memorized by how blue his eyes were even when he was young — they have the same sparkle in them today.

  After a few more pages are flipped, my eyes become glued to one particular picture — one of Joe and a little girl who must be one of his cousins. An odd feeling, like that of déjà vu, suddenly hits me, taking the wind right out of my lungs. I force my eyes closed, holding them tight for several seconds before opening them again. The familiarity of the photo remains as warm, happy feelings rise inside me as well as confusion.

  It isn’t until I’m descending the steps to the subway a few blocks south of the Covelli home that I realize that my subconscious is on a mission, directing my body to something unknown. As if I haven’t left the East Coast and have been doing it for years, I pay the fare and hop on the next train. I sit, staring at the floor as my mind wanders to childhood memories.

  Flickering images flood my thoughts in pieces that could only be from a dream, like a movie skipping through a few different scenes that don’t make any sense. The familiar sound of a young boy’s voice echoes in my head as he calls my name, laughing as he runs away from me. My vision is fuzzy as the sunlight dances before me. The boy’s face is blurry, but I can see a smile on his face as he giggles, reaching back for me to follow him. In the next moment, we’re bobbing along like buoys in water before we’re climbing aboard a boat. Other people are there too, but I can’t make out their faces either. Love, happiness and ease swirl inside me as if I’ve known them all my life.

  Next, were on a beach playing in the sand as my mother sits close by, reading a book. Then, one of the older boys is spinning me around in the air with my feet dangling as he holds me under my arms. We’re laughing as my head spins each time the other boy passes into view, who’s being spun at the same time.

  “Excuse me, miss?” a gentleman calls.

  “Hmm?” I answer.

  “You might want to put a leash on her,” he informs. “I don’t mind, but if the cops see her without a leash, they’ll ticket you.”

  “What?” I look down and find Sadie sitting, facing me. “Oh, thank you.”

  Once Sadie’s leash is on, my mind drifts back again to memories. More images reveal themselves and I’m surprised that I’m remembering them at this moment. Visions of the night sky and lights flickering all round us pop into view and we’re suddenly on a Ferris wheel, laughing. Then, we’re playing in the sand, covering up another boy at the beach from neck to toe. Flashes of us riding our bikes through business streets and quiet alleyways as we seek our next adventure. Night falls upon us again and there’s music, mostly rhythm, thumping as we watch dancers twirl fire around their bodies before tossing it into the sky, catching it.

  Unable to clearly focus on anything else but the flood of memories, I almost miss the stop to switch trains. Sadie follows, staying with me for every step without hesitation. I’m not even sure where I’m going, but I know that I need to go.

  After taking a cab from the train station, I find myself frozen in front of my parents’ house, staring blankly at the front door for several minutes until my feet follow their next round of instructions. Without remorse, without timidness, without sadness, my hand reaches forward and unlocks the door. Dropping my purse and Sadie’s leash onto the floor just after the door closes behind me, I scour the house for every known photo album in it. It takes me twenty minutes to find all eighteen of them — sixteen of them are of me; one for every year of my life — my mom loved to take pictures. I don’t bother looking in the two of my parents’ memories of before I was born — it won’t be in there. The one that my mom gave to me on my sixteenth birthday gets tossed aside since I know there aren’t any pictures in it. I grab the first book in sight, and one by one, my fingers and eyes scan the pages, searching for something — what? I’m still not sure. Nothing else matters until my quest is complete. I only wish I new what the goal was; it would make this so much easier.

  Nothing is discovered in the first album, so I toss it with the ones I know not to waste my time focusing on. The next book has photos of when I was thirteen. Two pages in, I shut it and move on to the next, certain that what I’m looking for is not in that book. The next one I grab is when I was five and without hesitation, my eyes scan each photo. Just past the halfway mark, my hands stop moving and my gaze fixates on a particular photo. I’m not sure what to make of it until two pages later there’s another photo of me at a beach, playing in the sand with a little boy. Needing more proof, I turn to the next page and then the next. The only pictures remaining are ones of me with mom on our school trips, Halloween and then my birthday where it stops and the next book starts.

  I scour for the photo album of when I was six, needing to see if there’s a pattern. Sure enough, when the photos reveal summer time shots, I’m at a beach, a different one, just like the previous album with mom and dad — and suddenly, there he is again. The same boy from the previous year’s photos, but a year older.

  My heart jumps out of my chest when I see the picture — that picture. The exact same one that Mrs. Covelli has in her photo album. The one of the little boy and little girl wearing the same exact clothes, in the same exact pose, with the same exact smiles, holding the same exact ice cream cones. How is this possible? How the hell can Mrs. Covelli have a photo of — me?

  My body trembles as my emotions tornado through it, bouncing from shock, to sadness, to happiness and then confusion. How? How can this be?

  My eyes dart up to the front door when the sound of it being shoved open echoes in my ears. “Joe?” I eek out, rising to my feet, letting the photo albums around me fall to the floor.

  Joe rushes to me, yanking me into his warm, shaking body.

  “What . . . what are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I came to find you,” he s
ays, fighting tears.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “What happened?! What happened?!” Joe says, sounding agitated and upset, but desperately trying to control himself. “What happened is that I get a call from my mother telling me you suddenly disappeared. What happened is that you left without telling anyone . . . not even your bodyguards. Thankfully, Ace was able to track you down, tapping into all the street cameras and found you heading into the subway. What happened is that we’ve been searching for you for several hours all while you haven’t picked up your phone once.”

  “What are you talking about?” I say, confused. “I haven’t been gone . . . .” My gaze shifts to the clock on the mantel above the chimney and it says that it’s just after two-thirty. “I . . . I don’t understand.”

  “What do you not understand, Emma?!” Joe says, mad for the first time since I’ve known him. “Do you really think that people wouldn’t notice you were gone? Do you think we wouldn’t care? Do you think I would just let you leave, walk out on me after what we’ve been through?”

  “I didn’t walk out on you,” I snap, confused by everything that’s going on.

  “I don’t care if you’re scared, Emma,” Joe continues. “I love you. I love our child and there’s nothing I won’t do for either of you.”

  “I’m not scared, Joe,” I say, trying to get a word in, but he rambles over me.

  “Do you think I wouldn’t be hurt? Wouldn’t be upset at you just leaving?” he says, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Do you even know how much it hurt me to let you go back in December over a set of fucking keys. I loved you then and it darn near broke my fucking heart to let you go. I won’t do it, Emma. I won’t do it again. I won’t let you go. Fuck my feelings, I won’t let you go because of our unborn child. He . . . she, deserves better than you running away each time something happens.”

  My voice cracks as my mouth opens, unable to utter a sound, surprised by his words on so many levels.

  “I understand if you’re scared, Emma,” Joe says, finally lowering his voice like he’s been defeated. “I’m scared too . . . but, I won’t give up on you. I won’t give up on us. Don’t you see that?”