by Seth Eden
“Parenthood is just this never-ending, stroke-inducing heart attack, isn’t it?” Molly asked, a strange tone in her voice I couldn’t identify.
“That’s one way of putting it,” I huffed out another chuckle. Anna was my world, but sometimes I thought maybe a warning label saying only the most adventurous should apply.
“No, parenthood is a gift, pure and simple,” Greta corrected me. My brothers and I all knew her story. She’d had her own child, a boy, long before any of us had been born and had lost him before his first birthday. What we didn’t know was how she’d lost him or why. Any time we dared to ask, she’d cried.
So we stopped asking.
“That’s true,” I agreed.
When Anna started to nod off, I lifted her back into my arms. “Time for bed, sweetness,” I said on a yawn. But then, sleep often eluding me was my norm.
Molly padded along beside me as we went up the stairs. I hadn’t seen her much in the past several days. While we’d all been laughing together, she’d worn a healthy flush to her cheeks, but now I noticed she looked a bit pale. “You still under the weather?”
“I’m a little better, I guess.”
“You sound like you’re not too sure about that.” She didn’t offer any sort of response, so I continued. “It’s good to see you up and about, at least.”
Molly rubbed a spot on her arm, seeming agitated. “Luca, I…”
Anna was out cold now, and since we’d reached the top of the stairway I stopped, waiting for Molly to finish. When several long seconds passed and she continued to stare at everything but me, I prompted her. “Luca, I?”
“I’m moving out.”
My breath froze in my lungs at that. She wanted to leave. “You’re leaving us.” Leaving me. But really, what did I expect? I’d rejected her, hurt her. What motivation had I provided her with to stay?
“Not the business, no. Just the mansion. I bought a house down the way. Outside of the estate.”
Bought. Past tense. When had she done this? And more importantly, how had I not known about it?
“Why?”
I shouldn’t have asked. I hadn’t earned the right to. Yet I was dying to hear her answer just the same.
She’d been staring at Anna’s face in repose, but now she lifted her eyes to meet mine. “Because I need to.” Her gaze dropped again to my daughter as she pushed one of her dark curls back from her forehead. “I’ll still run things for you, though. I’ll still be your Queen Molly.” She stood up straighter, as if affecting a regal stance.
I attempted a chuckle, but it didn’t come out sounding all that authentic.
“I will need some time off to get everything set up over there.”
She’d made a request I needed to respond to, but I was having trouble getting my throat to work. After swallowing I managed to say, “Take as long as you need.”
“A couple of weeks should be plenty.” She grasped the arm I’d wrapped around Anna, giving it a slight squeeze. Then she offered me a regretful little grin as she walked away.
26
Molly
“I’m carrying your second child.”
I’d almost said the words aloud to Luca. Almost. But I didn’t. I didn’t because I wasn’t sure of what I was going to do. I wasn’t sure of what I should do.
I’d packed up all my belongings, hopped into the car waiting for me outside—Luca’s doing—and went straight to the nearest pharmacy. I’d bought the over-the-counter stick test and had taken it right there in that public restroom. And I’d received confirmation.
The test had been positive.
The man I loved had impregnated me, but there was this one tiny wrinkle: He didn’t love me back. If we’d been together, this might’ve been a happy and exciting time, but instead, I was alone in this.
All alone.
And I would never be anything but. He’d made his feelings clear. There wouldn’t ever be a romantic relationship between me and Luca.
In that way, this pregnancy didn’t change a thing.
But it would change my world if I let it. If I allowed it to continue to be. Whether or not I would do that remained to be seen.
I stared at the bare, unfurnished living room of my new home and put down my suitcase and the armload of garment bags I’d brought with me. It was clean and just the right size for me. I could still smell the fresh paint. I’d told Luca it was a house, but it was more of a cottage really. Quaint. Cozy. On the small side. And free of painful memories.
This place might not be as lavish or freaking ginormous as the Varasso mansion, but it was all mine.
Last night had been the last night I’d ever spend there. It’d had to be. My sanity wouldn’t allow for anything else.
I couldn’t make any major life-altering choices while staying feet away from the man who’d rescued me from his father, shared his life and business with me, made me wealthier than I could’ve dreamed, brought me intense pleasure with his body, and then broken my heart.
It was just too hard. Too confusing.
Yet, I was used to hard and confusing. I’d faced worse situations, and I’d face this one.
Stand tall. Stand strong.
I thought of the past couple of interactions I’d had with Luca. Him bringing me crackers and ginger ale when I was nauseous. Him taking care of Anna when she had a nightmare. For the leader of a crime syndicate, he sure was a nurturing kind of guy. Caring.
A hiccup rose in my chest, and it was only at the last minute that I realized it was a sob.
Damn hormones.
I scrubbed my eyes free of the tears that filled them. I didn’t need to do this falling apart thing. Not again. I needed to buy some furniture and settle in so I could make this important decision. For some reason my high school English class flashed through my brain, which was ironic since I’d never cared much about my education.
Okay, that wasn’t strictly true. I hadn’t had time to worry about my education. I’d had to worry about bigger things. Like my sister. Like our survival.
But whatever.
Back to English class. We’d read Hamlet my freshman year, and that famous quote from the play kept spinning across my thoughts.
“To be or not to be.”
This—I didn’t think I should call it a child or a baby for now—would be or not be based on what I decided. On what conclusion I came to. What would be best for me under the circumstances. I honestly didn’t know what Luca’s opinion would be on the matter.
He already had a daughter. He was already dealing with the challenges of single fatherhood and overseeing the long reaching arms of his family’s business. I sincerely doubted that he’d want to add another burden to his overfilled plate.
But if I chose to keep it, would I be able to rear it on my own? I’d helped to raise my sister, but by the time I’d started to do that, she’d been older. Eleven. Almost a teenager. I’d never had to take responsibility for another person from infancy on.
Luca had a support system. When something happened with Anna that he didn’t know how to deal with, he had other people in his house to go to. To ask. To offer him advice or a helping hand.
Like last night. Every time I’d seen him with his daughter prior to then he’d always seemed to know what he was doing. He’d never seemed unsure or hesitant. He got right in there and fed her, bathed her, changed her diapers. He’d rock her to sleep. But when I’d seen him a few hours ago, he’d looked… well, rattled. More than that. He’d been riddled with anxiety. Terrified, even.
But then he’d sought out assistance.
Not his brothers, of course. I’d never seen any of them as overly helpful in that regard, but Greta had been. She served as nanny, mom, and even devoted grandma. She also remained cool as a cucumber in a crisis. And though I was sure the Varassos paid her to be their employee, she was far more to Luca. He loved her. I could see it in the way he treated her.
She took care of Anna on a daily basis. And on that horrible night when th
e shit had hit the fan, she’d taken care of Luca, too. She’d comforted him, provided him with an emotional leg to stand on. So I knew as far as he was concerned, the lady was family.
And for the first time, it occurred to me that I could seek out my own family. I hadn’t seen Tara since I’d come to live with the Varassos. She had no idea what it was I was really doing now.
I still couldn’t tell her either, but I could visit her. Make sure she was okay. Ask her what the fuck I was supposed to do now that there was a life growing inside me. Or something that could become a life anyway.
I pulled out my phone. This one wasn’t a burner but one Luca had provided me with for the precise purpose of contacting Tara, so she should recognize the number. I’d been avoiding calling her lately, preferring to communicate only through text. That way, it’d been easier to dodge her questions about where I was and why I wasn’t coming home.
But this time, I called her.
“Hey, Tara. Are you busy?”
She blew out an audible breath, sounding frustrated with me. “No, but I’m sure you are.”
“I’m not, actually. Can we get together?”
I was home.
I looked around at the familiar cramped apartment with its second-hand well… everything. All the things we owned had been salvaged or used. And Old Man Bertolli had owned them first, had passed them down to us.
At the time, it’d been a precious bounty.
Being here made me miss him terribly. I could see him in every chipped coffee mug, in that old cuckoo clock on the wall, on that scuff along the doorjamb where he’d always put his foot when his arms were full. I glanced over at the moth-eaten loveseat and beat-up recliner. Tara hadn’t replaced them even though I’d given her quite a bit of money.
The only proof that she’d spent any of it was in the shiny new silver laptop sitting on our breakfast nook. But then, she was thrifty just like me. We’d always had to be.
Tara had made some coffee, hash browns and bacon for us. I covered both the hash browns and the meat in ketchup and gobbled it all down like there was no tomorrow. When I wasn’t tossing my cookies, I felt famished to the point of hunger pangs. It was disconcerting. Not only to keep going from one extreme to the other, but to also crave stuff I didn’t typically eat.
My sister watched me with narrowed eyes, tapping her fingers on the table. “So, are you going to explain yourself or what.”
I almost said, “Or what.” Explaining things would be difficult considering I couldn’t tell her most of it. It might put her in danger. “Okay, so a lot has happened since I saw you last.”
“Yeah, I gathered as much. Why is it you’re just now coming home? It’s been four months, Moll. Four.”
Ugh. Here we went. I’d been wracking my brain to come up with a plausible enough story. I just hoped it worked. “I got offered this position with a company that required permanent and immediate residency. It’s kind of a high security clearance type of deal. But I’m on vacation for the next two weeks.”
“From the way you’re dressed and the amount of money you sent me, I’m guessing they pay well.”
“Very.” I nodded.
“But you’re not going to tell me about it? No specifics?”
“I can’t, except to say that I’m a manager.” That sounded innocuous enough. I couldn’t exactly come out and say, “Yeah, all these mafia dudes like to call me Queen Molly.”
“Wait, is this one of those, ‘I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you’ sort of things?” I nearly choked. That was so close to the truth that I couldn’t help it. She paused, then asked, “Is it like the military? Ben’s told me about positions like that, ones where people go on all these secret missions.”
I stayed silent. Ben Lopez was her boyfriend and a member of the Air Force. Unlike me, Tara hadn’t struggled with relationships. She’d dated around, met John when she was eighteen, and they’d been together ever since. It’d been two years now, and they seemed blissfully content.
I had no idea how her love life had turned out like a Hallmark movie while mine resembled nothing as much as a train wreck.
“Damn. I can’t believe you joined the military without telling me first,” she said.
So I wouldn’t have to say anything, I pushed out of my chair and went searching for some more food. I still felt way too empty. I found some celery and peanut butter and dunked the vegetable straight in. Remaining on my feet, I crunched my way through a few stalks before she said anything else.
“What is up with you?”
“What? I’m hungry.”
“They don’t feed you in this super clandestine organization you’re now a part of?”
I thought of Rosa’s lavish Sunday dinners, dinners I’d no longer go to. So I wouldn’t be there anymore, who cared? No big deal. Out of coffee now, I went to the pot. Customarily, I filled my cup with sugar and cream, but the aroma smelled so good plain that I drank it down black.
“Okay, no,” she said, and I peeked over at her. Tara stood, putting her hands on her hips. “I have never, not once, seen you drink coffee with nothing in it. You’ll pour it out first.”
“It tastes good this way.”
“It never tasted good to you before.” She had three wrinkles across her forehead as she squinted at me. I took a deep breath.
“I guess my tastes have changed now that I’m pregnant.”
For a long moment, she goggled at me, her eyes double their size. “You’re…”
“Yeah.”
“That one you’re going to have to explain.”
Careful to not say his name, I gave her an abridged version of my history with Luca. “I fell for this guy at work. But his life is complicated—”
“Code for married,” Tara interrupted, pursing her lips. “Go on.”
“He’s not married, but he does have a baby daughter. He’s also my boss.” Sort of.
“That doesn’t explain why he won’t get with you.”
“He doesn’t love me, but it’s my fault. I’m the one who pushed for something physical, and now…”
“Now you don’t know what to do,” she took the words right out of my mouth.
I felt profoundly overwhelmed, and my eyes filled again. Shit, this was annoying. I’d never been so emotional in my entire life.
“So, your job is important to you, yeah?” she said.
“Yeah.”
“And this guy won’t help?”
“He might if I asked him, but I don’t know.”
“It might be best to get rid of it, then,” she told me, and I nodded.
It would be the simplest solution. The no muss, no fuss solution. I wouldn’t have to tell Luca, and I could go back to being Queen Molly without any real ramifications. I could focus on building the Varasso drug empire while setting myself up with a big nest egg, so I’d never have to worry about finances again. I could support Tara with it, too.
It sounded like a plan. A good plan.
“Will you go with me to the clinic?”
“Of course,” she said, patting my hand. “Want a subject change?”
“Please,” I said, wiping away some extra tears I hadn’t realized had fallen till just then. She handed me an envelope. It was from the Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility, the prison where my father had been incarcerated over the past nineteen years. My hands shook as I opened it. My memories of him weren’t exactly stellar. In fact, not one of them was pleasant.
“He’s getting out early for good behavior,” Tara told me as if she couldn’t handle the suspense any longer.
“Oh my God.”
“He asked to see us on his release day.”
“Oh, Tara, I don’t think so.” My sister didn’t remember what had happened with our father, and I’d never told her the nitty-gritty details. She knew he was an alcoholic, that he had anger issues, and that he’d murdered a man where he worked, but that was about it. “He’s not a nice person. He’s not a good person.”
“I think you should read the letter, Moll.”
But I stuffed it back into the envelope. I didn’t need to read it. I didn’t ever want to see him again.
“Look, you don’t remember how he was. How brutal he was.”
Flickering images of him beating our mom accosted me, followed by him coming after me. I shook my head, not wanting to relive the rest.
“What if he’s changed? Become a better man?”
“What if he hasn’t?” I countered.
“I can’t make you go, but I’m going. Ben was going to go with me, but he’s been deployed for the next two months to Saudi Arabia and won’t be stateside.”
“You can’t see that man alone, Tara, he’s dangerous. Promise me you won’t.”
Her eyes blazed, and she barked out, “Don’t do that. You can’t come back in here and start ordering me around like when we were kids. I’m not a child anymore. I can do whatever I want. Besides, you’ve been gone. Off doing stuff you won’t even tell me about. You have no say in the matter.”
“But—”
“But nothing. He’s our dad, Molly. The only father we’ll ever have. And we’ve been talking.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been taking his phone calls. He started calling about a month after you left. He told me he’d like to get the chance to see his daughters, the chance to make things up to us. I think he wants forgiveness.”
Now my own ire rose. “How could he do this? Ask for forgiveness? He’s gone all this time without asking for it.”
“He’s dying,” she yelled at me, and I gaped at her, freezing in place. Now she was the one with watery eyes and a tremulous tone. “He’s dying and regrets what he’s done. I could hear it in his voice. And if we don’t see him now, we’ll never get the chance again.”
Without waiting for my reply, Tara ran out of the apartment, leaving me behind.
27
Luca
I had the driver pull over by the place Molly now called home, scrutinizing the windows to see if I could detect her inside. It reminded me of her, with its clean lines and light brown exterior. The color matched her whiskey eyes and contrasted with the white trim.
