The night after we say our final goodbyes to Dad is quiet and solemn. Our teammates and friends have left, giving us space to mourn privately. My mother, Enzo, Harrison and I are alone in the house again. After days of harried arrangements, turbulent emotions, and swells of friends’ and fans’ support, the relative silence and stillness is peculiar.
We sit around the kitchen table, a bottle of Chianti at the ready. I hold my glass between my hands, dimly wondering whether people have come to a consensus about having a little drink while pregnant. It seems like ages ago that Bex and I sat huddled in that Dallas hotel room, staring down at those little blue plus signs. But in reality, it’s only been a week. In the midst of my father’s death, I’ve had no time to deal with my secret, no time to think on it at all. There hasn’t been a spare moment to breathe these past few days, much less come up with a game plan for my surprise pregnancy.
“The flowers the owners sent over were rather tasteful,” my mother says, breaking the wilting silence.
“Sure,” Enzo agrees sullenly, “Team Ferrelli’s way of saying, ‘We’re sorry for your loss, but get back to training, would you?’”
“You’re the lead driver, Enzo,” Mom says, “It’s your responsibility to stay focused. Your father wouldn’t want you lingering here for his sake.”
“We scattered his ashes this afternoon,” Enzo points out, “I wouldn’t call this lingering.”
“No, of course not. I think you should take the week to rest,” Mom says, “All of you should, if you like. This house is far too big for one person, after all. I wouldn’t mind the company a bit.”
I look to Harrison. “You should probably check in with McClain and see when they want you to get back to the track.”
“I’ve been in touch with them,” Harrison tells me, “I told them that I’m staying with you as long as you need me.”
I feel my mother’s gaze swing my way across the table, her sentiment as clear as day. Hold onto this one, she’s telling me.
I intend to, I transmit back, meeting her gaze.
“Well then, stay for at least one more night,” I say to Harrison, “I’m pretty wiped. I think I’ll head upstairs.”
“I’ll join you,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me gently up from my chair.
We say our goodnights and make our way through the all but silent house. Our steps echo foreignly as we plod through the foyer. I don’t think this house has ever been so quiet. It’s always been filled with the vibrant energy of my father, the running feet of rambunctious kids, the exuberant presence of F1 aficionados. Maybe there will be raucous laughter and abundant happiness in this place again—when new children are born, when Enzo steps into my father’s shoes as Ferrelli’s patriarch. But for now, it’s like our home itself is in mourning.
Without bothering to change my clothes, I crawl into the bed I’ve had since I was a child and roll onto my side. A numbness has shrouded me in sorrow’s wake, and I don’t know how to dispel it. Harrison sits on the edge of the bed beside me, pulling off my shoes and placing them on the floor.
“You’re pretty good at this caretaker thing,” I tell him.
“I’m good at taking care of you,” he allows, rubbing my back in long, lingering strokes. The touch of his hand sends a faint warmth radiating through me. It cuts through the unfeelingness like a razor blade.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I say, arching my back to meet his touch, “All you have to do is touch me, and I know that everything will be OK. Even now...”
“That’s because everything will be OK,” Harrison tells me, running a hand through my hair, “We’re together, Siena. Through all of this. As long as that’s the case, we’re golden.”
“Could you just hold me for a while?” I ask him softly.
Harrison kicks off his shoes and lowers himself onto the bed beside. We lay together on top of the comforter, my back pressed against his chest. I curl up against him as his strong arms enclose me, keeping me safe from the rest of the world.
“I can’t keep terrible things from happening,” Harrison says, lightly kissing my neck, “But I can help you get through them. Just like you help me. We can take anything on between the two of us.”
My heart lifts at his words. I still haven’t said a thing about the positive pregnancy tests, the morning waves of nausea that won’t give me a moment’s peace. Is this the moment to tell him my secret? I part my lips to speak, but Harrison goes on.
“All I want is you, Siena,” he says, “This life...it’s better than anything I could have imagined. We’re young, we’re crazy about each other, we can do anything. Let’s just make this time about the two of us. We’ll travel as much as we want. We’ll party like there’s no tomorrow. We’ll take the F1 world by storm, between us. This is the perfect time, Siena. We’re free. We can do whatever we like. How exciting is that?”
I swallow down my confession and smile weakly. “It’s pretty exciting,” I say, “But, you know...anything could happen, Harrison. Maybe we’ll find that a more, uh, centered life is actually better?”
“I don’t know,” he smiles, “Centered sounds a bit square, doesn’t it?”
“I guess you’ve got a point,” I laugh, ignoring the tightening of my heart. How am I supposed to bring up the fact that there’s almost certainly a baby in our future? In my most private daydreams, I can’t help but wish for a simple life with Harrison and the little person we’re bringing into the world. Can we have our house and baby and keep our freewheeling youth as well?
My eyes close of their own accord, my exhausted body claiming sleep where it can. There will be plenty of time for this kind of thinking down the road. Right now, I just need to sink into Harrison’s embrace and finally get some shuteye.
Chapter Five
Time moves strangely, during the week following my father’s passing. The minutes slow to a crawl as Harrison, Enzo, my mother and I try and fill the days about our Italian estate. But even as each second drags on forever, the days fly by. The paradox leaves me feeling exhausted and anxious, charged and drained. In what seems like forever and no time at all, another week has somehow passed.
Like clockwork, the outside world begins to filter back into our mournful cocoon. Team Ferrelli sends shot after shot over the bow, urging Enzo to ease back into training. And it isn’t just my brother that the ownership is eager to bring back into the fold. With my father’s death, I’ve now become a shareholder myself. I’m now an important part of Team Ferrelli, my voice will finally be heard. The owners have already made it clear that this is no ceremonial title for me. My input will not only be encouraged, but necessary.
I have enormous shoes to fill, stepping in for my father, but it’s the challenge I’ve been waiting for. I can strategize and delegate with the best of them. At the end of the day, I’ll be doing what I always have been: helping Enzo succeed as a driver while bettering my team and the sport. My vacated seat as PR director will be going to none other than Bex, and even Charlie is officially coming onto the team as assistant manager to Gus. I’ll be surrounded by everyone I love...with the notable and insurmountable exception of my father.
Enzo and Harrison decide to set off together after just a few days at the Lazio estate. Their teams are eager to get them into training mode once more, and the distraction will do them good—especially Enzo. Harrison is heading back to his home in London while Enzo settles back into his bachelor pad, nearer to the Ferrelli headquarters than our home up here in the hills. I’ll follow him soon to meet with the owners and discuss my role on the team, but for now I’m hanging back. This is my chance to get some alone time with my mom and catch up on some rather crucial girl talk about a certain bun in the oven.
The four of us stand on the front steps, saying our goodbyes before the boys depart. I hug Enzo fiercely, holding on with all the strength I’ve got.
“I’ll see you soon,” I tell him, “Don’t push yourself too hard. No one’s expecting you to be one hundred percent agai
n right away.”
“Except for me.” Enzo replies.
My brother moves to bid Mom farewell, and Harrison lays a hand on my back. His eyes are clouded with concern as he looks at me.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, “And I’ll see you in no time. I’ll meet with Ferrelli in a couple of days, then come find you in London. We can figure everything out then.”
“Will you stay awhile?” Harrison asks hopefully. Our situation is so unconventional that we have no idea what to do about our living arrangements in the off-season. Should I move into Harrison’s London townhouse? Should we split time between England, Italy, and America? Buy a house boat instead?
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I say, kissing him goodbye.
Enzo and Harrison climb back into the rental car and take off down the long drive as Mom and I look on. I feel strangely grown up, standing beside my mother now. Is it only that we all feel a bit older, having said goodbye to Dad? Is it that I have a man in my life that I love more than anything? Or could it be the potential little life inside me that has me feeling so grown?
“Why don’t we have a cup of tea?” I say to my mother, “And, um...catch up a bit.”
She nods, and we head inside together. I busy myself in the kitchen, my nerves on end as I work up to telling her my news. She settles into the breakfast nook and I set the kettle to boil and ready our mugs with mindfully decaffeinated tea. I need something to settle my stomach quickly, before another round of nausea claims me. Even with my almost daily waves of sickness, I refuse to let myself believe this is really happening. Until a doctor says it’s so, everything is only hypothetical.
I carry two steaming mugs of chamomile to the wooden table, smiling nervously as I set them down.
“Thank you, darling,” my mother says, wrapping her hands around the steaming mug. She’s gone back to her usual beauty regimen in the past week, and looks as put-together as ever. If I live to be a hundred, I don’t think I’ll ever learn to be as graceful as my mother.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I tell her, “It hasn’t even been a week since Dad died, and you’re so...collected.”
“What else is there to do but keep living?” she shrugs, “Your father is...was...an F1 driver, Siena. I’ve been bracing myself for his passing for the entire course of our marriage.”
“Wasn’t that a depressing way to live?” I ask her, sipping my tea.
“Not at all,” she tells me, “Knowing he could be gone at any moment made me appreciate him all the more. Are you thinking of your own F1 driver, Siena?”
“I guess I am,” I admit.
“You two have gotten rather serious,” my mother observes, “He makes you very happy. I can tell.”
“He does, Mom,” I smile, “Even after all of the championship madness, we’re stronger than ever. I really love him.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Mom says, taking my hand in hers, “Enjoy every minute of this time. You’re only young and in love once.”
A pang twists my heart as my mother echoes Harrison’s sentiments. How am I supposed to be young and carefree when I could be carrying another life inside of me as we speak?
“Well...um...” I stammer, “The thing is, we might be moving onto a new...phase of our relationship pretty soon.”
“A new phase?” Mom asks, “Are you planning on moving in together?”
“Probably,” I tell her, “But that’s not really—”
“Is he going to propose?” she posits excitedly, “Bex and Charlie have already—”
“I know,” I cut her off, “But I’m not really...We’re...”
“What is it, darling?” my mother asks, “Don’t be bashful, it might be something I know a thing or two about.”
“Oh, it is,” I tell her, “You’ve done it twice, after all...”
A long moment of contemplative silence passes between us as my words sink in. Mom’s eyes widen to the size of saucers as she looks at me in a whole new light. For a moment, I’m worried that she’s going to cry, scream, tell me I’m making a terrible mistake. But then, miraculously, her face breaks into a wide, rapturous smile.
“Siena,” she breathes, “You’re...are you having a baby?”
“It’s...very possible,” I tell her breathlessly.
“Tell me everything!” she gushes, clutching my hands, “When did you find out?”
“Just before we came back here,” I tell her, “When we were in Dallas. The day after the Grand Prix I woke up so sick. At first I thought I was just hungover, but then I realized that I couldn’t remember when my last period had been. Thank God Bex was there. She got me some pregnancy tests to take, and they, uh, both turned out positive. I know that those aren’t enough to go by, but I’ve been feeling nauseated in the morning ever since. I always get so screwed up from traveling during the season when it comes to the pill, I could very well...you know.”
“So this wasn’t planned?” she asks.
“God no!” I laugh, “Harrison’s just been made lead driver and I’ve just become a Ferrelli shareholder. Not exactly an ideal time, is it?”
“Siena, let me tell you a secret,” Mom says, “It’s never an ideal time. You never feel one hundred percent ready.”
“But we’re...you know. We’re not even married,” I say.
“Oh, who cares?” she says, waving her hand, “In this day and age, things can be a little out of order, don’t you think? You and Harrison love each other. You’re already light-years ahead of plenty of other parents in that respect.”
“I hope he feels the same way,” I sigh.
“You...haven’t told him?” Mom asks.
“I didn’t exactly have an ideal moment,” I say, “What with...”
“Ah,” Mom says, “Of course.”
“I just want to be sure before I go to him with this,” I tell her. I haven’t been to a doctor, yet, and—Mom, what are you doing?”
“Bringing you to see my doctor, of course,” she says, grabbing her purse. “If I have a grandchild on the way, I want to know for sure.”
“Right now?” I splutter, “Shouldn’t we take a little more time—?”
“Siena,” she says, plucking her cell phone out of her purse, “If you’ve got a little one on the way, trust me—you’ll want to know everything as soon as possible. I have a wonderful doctor here who will see you at once if I ask nicely. Why don’t you go run a comb through your hair and we’ll be off?”
“Oh...OK...” I say, at a loss. I pick myself up from my chair and get set to amble off, but my mom catches me in a swift hug.
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispers, “In the middle of all this sadness, what happy news this is.”
“We’re not sure yet,” I remind her.
“Let’s just say I have a feeling,” she smiles, letting her hand rest lightly on my belly. “Now go on and get ready.”
She puts her phone to her ear as I walk away, excited and scared to know for sure whether or not this is truly happening.
In no time at all, Mom’s snagged me an appointment with her doctor. Camilla Lazio is not an easy woman to turn down. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen her take no for an answer in my twenty five years on this planet. She summons a car for us and it’s off to the doctor’s office.
I gaze out the window at the Italian countryside, trying to ease deep breaths into my lungs. But keeping my eyes trained on the moving landscape turns out to be a terrible idea. Nausea surges up inside my body—motion sickness or morning sickness, who’s to say? I close my eyes tightly and lean hard against the back seat. As supportive as my mother is, I wish that Harrison was here to help see me through this.
“Are you OK, Siena?” Mom asks, laying a comforting hand on my arm.
“I just want to know what’s going on with my body,” I tell her.
“It takes a little getting used to,” Mom allows, “But it will be OK. Women’s bodies are built for this, remember. Not that every woman has to be a
mother, of course, but you can trust your body to know that to do.”
“Right now all my body seems capable of is making me want to throw up my breakfast,” I say grumpily.
“Well...Not everything about pregnancy is pretty,” Mom sighs.
We arrive at the doctor’s office and sidle inside. A medical assistant catches sight of my mother and immediately ushers us back to a room. It seems that my mother’s reputation for getting what she wants precedes her.
“You can go ahead and put on that robe there,” the assistant tells me in Italian, “Dr. Ricci will be with you in just a minute.”
My mom steps out into the hallway to give me some privacy. We’re a close family, but we were raised pretty modestly. I can’t imagine what my father would say about all of this. Would he be furious with me for getting pregnant outside of marriage? Or would his joy at having a grandchild override that? A fresh pang of sadness grips my heart as I shrug off my clothes and step into the gown. I’ll never know what my dad would have thought about me having a baby with Harrison.
A soft knock on the door interrupts my somber reverie.
“Come in,” I call.
My mother reenters the room, leading a white-haired woman in behind her. I can’t help but feel relieved that Dr. Ricci is a woman rather than a man. The last thing I need right now is some middle aged guy casting judgment on my life choices.
“Good morning, Siena,” Dr. Ricci smiles, shaking my hand and speaking to me in beautiful Italian, “I’ve heard so much about you over the years. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Thank you...” I say, speaking Italian as well.
Take Me Series (COMPLETE BOX SET) Page 51
