by Sam Mariano
Vince may be the father.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head in denial.
It can’t be. It can’t.
Suddenly light-headed, I lie back on the bed, bracing my head between my hands to keep it from exploding. My chest fills up with anxiety, traces of fear taking root in my heart.
Oh, my god. What would that mean? What happens then? In my fantasy world, my stupid body would just know better than to let any sperm that isn’t Mateo’s get through, but since reality is such an asshole, that isn’t how it works. It literally didn’t even occur to me that this could be a possibility. I’ve been so lost in wedding planning and sheer happiness that I haven’t had many thoughts to spare for my time in Vegas.
Now Mateo takes a seat on the edge of the bed, but he doesn’t touch me. Now that feels important. Now that feels like a crumbling cinder block in our impenetrable wall.
How can I be so happy one minute, and wondering if my whole life is falling apart the next?
“What if it isn’t?” I finally ask.
“It couldn’t be Rafe’s, right?”
My stomach twists that he even has to ask me that. “No. I told you, it never went that far.”
“So it could only be Vince’s.” Strange how this disappoints him. One might think it would be a good thing that there are less potential fathers to your fiancée’s baby, but I get the distinct impression from his tone that he would much prefer it be Rafe’s, if those were the only two options.
I cover my face with my hands, the shame flooding back over me. I thought it was gone, but apparently Mateo had been the dam holding it at bay for me, and now it’s collapsed. Now I’m a pregnant woman who has no idea who the father of her baby is.
“I didn’t want to have to ask you about this,” Mateo begins. “But how many times—?
“Five.”
It all comes back now. Flashes of Vince on top of me, hating me but taking me anyway. There was no love left, but he still wouldn’t let go. If Rafe hadn’t intervened, I don’t think he would’ve let me leave at all.
What if he never lets go? What if he somehow finds out about my pregnancy through the channels and he pieces together the timeline? Even if it turns out he isn’t the father, this is the worst possible timing. He’ll think there’s a chance he is. More than a chance—I told him Mateo wasn’t allowed to get me pregnant. I didn’t tell him we didn’t use protection in the Bahamas—it was none of his business. If Vince finds out I’m pregnant, he will believe he’s the father, whether he is or not.
Now I understand why Mateo isn’t excited.
It took me a little longer to get it, and I probably haven’t even thought of everything Mateo has, but now I understand.
This is a disaster.
Mateo sighs as I start crying, then he tugs his jacket off and drapes it across the foot of the bed. He lies down with me and pulls me into his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur into his chest, when I finally stop crying long enough to speak.
“None of this is your fault, Mia,” he states, still holding me. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“But I’m still sorry.”
Rubbing my back, he murmurs, “I know.”
“I begged him not to…”
His voice is a little firmer now. “I know, Mia. Don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with it.”
I don’t know what that means and my brain is too full to ask. Instead I curl up on our bed with his arms wrapped around me and pray for this to be a false alarm.
---
Nobody speaks after we leave the doctor’s office.
Well, Mateo and Adrian speak briefly, but no one speaks to me. Mateo did most of the speaking at the doctor’s office, too. He was the one who asked questions, and eventually the doctor realized I was the body, but he was the boss, and stopped addressing me altogether. Ordinarily I don’t mind that at all—even in this instance I wouldn’t mind, if Mateo wanted this pregnancy.
But I’m not sure he does.
So while he and the rest of his world treat this as his problem, like it normally would be, I’m feeling a little differently. I’m feeling like maybe this is my problem.
I hope not. Because this is going to be one hell of a problem to have.
I’m telling myself not to overreact, that he’ll come down. Right now he and Adrian are double-checking the simple math, but everyone has concluded the same thing—that I was in Vegas when I got pregnant.
Mateo set an appointment for next week for a paternity test. He wanted one today, but the doctor said it’s too soon, that we have to wait one more week. I peeked out from under my cloak of invisibility on that one, asking if it was safe. The doctor assured me it would be, that it was non-invasive, they would just draw a blood sample from me and the “potential fathers” and they could run an accurate test. Mateo explained that he’s going to share DNA markers either way, since the other potential father is a relative of his. The doctor pretended that was totally normal.
The doctor definitely thinks I’m a whore. But I’m a wealthy patient’s whore fiancée, so he didn’t bat an eye.
The ride there was a little more optimistic. We were both hoping I would find out I definitely got pregnant that week in the Bahamas. I’m furious at my body for ovulating at the wrong time, but unless the doctor misjudged my due date, there’s no chance.
We make it all the way home without a single word to each other. I would usually push past his bad mood and pull him in with my affection, but I’m not feeling much of it right now. I’m feeling scared and alone. When Mateo’s on your side, everything is great and life is peaceful, but when he’s not… I can’t even think about it.
I especially can’t think of this being the thing that puts us on opposite sides, because this is maybe the only thing in the world I will dig my heels in and fight him over.
Which, I think, will make things even worse.
I’m still hoping and praying he doesn’t put me in that position, so we’ll never have to find out, but the anxiety lingers. His track record and everything I know about his traditional beliefs leads me to believe that fear is valid. He’s not going to want to raise Vince’s son. He’s just not.
Mateo climbs out of the car when we get home and glances back at me, since I haven’t moved from my seat.
“Are you coming inside?”
I glance at him, addressing me for the first time since we left the exam room. “I just need a few minutes.”
He watches me for a moment, then glances up front to Adrian. Finally he nods and heads into the house alone.
I lean forward and yank the car door shut, leaning back in the seat and sighing.
Adrian glances at me over his shoulder. “You okay back there?”
“He seems so mad at me.”
“He isn’t mad at you,” Adrian assures me. “He’s just in problem-solving mode. He gets a little cold sometimes when he’s working out a problem.”
“My baby isn’t a problem,” I mutter, my hand moving protectively to my tummy.
Now Adrian nods, but I can see that my words add about 80 pounds to his shoulders. “You want to keep it even if it’s Vince’s, don’t you?”
Smiling without humor, I say, “Do you know you are the first person to ask me that? You might think I’d be the first person anyone would ask, but no.”
Adrian understands. “It’s Mateo’s world, we’re just living in it,” he remarks lightly. “People probably just… You know, you usually yield to him.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s different. That works for us, that makes us both happy. That doesn’t cost me anything.”
“This would.”
I don’t know if it’s a question or an acknowledgement, but I don’t answer either way. After a couple more minutes of silence, he says, “Weren’t you guys supposed to go to lunch?”
“If it went well we were going to, yeah.”
“You’re probably hungry.”
I shake my head. “Not
really.”
He looks back at the house. “So… do you just want to keep sitting here in the car?”
“That’s the plan,” I say, nodding. “I don’t want to go in there right now.”
“Okay,” he says, easily enough.
We sit there for another minute, then he puts the car in drive and suddenly we’re moving. At first I think he’s just parking the car, but then he heads down the driveway toward the road.
“Where are we going?” I ask him.
“Gotta go pick something up. I guess you’re coming along.”
---
When Adrian told me he had to pick something up, he led me to believe I was being a pain in his ass, and he was just taking me on an errand since he still had shit to do.
I have no idea where we are when he parks, but he comes around to get the door for me, and once I’m out, he says, “Close your eyes.”
“Close my eyes?”
He nods, and even though I’m completely confused, I obey.
Only I still have to walk out of the parking area and up a sidewalk, so Adrian braces an arm around my waist and lightly takes my hand, leading me and telling me when I need to do more than just walk.
“Step up.”
I keep my eyes closed, but I’m sorely tempted to cheat. There’s a blast of cool air as we walk into somewhere with air conditioning, thankfully, but Adrian warns me to keep ‘em closed, like he knows I want to cheat.
“What are we doing?” I ask again.
“I’m gonna buy you a present.”
“Oh, I like presents,” I tell him.
Chuckling, he says, “I know you do.”
I don’t even know what it is or where we are, but at least I’m smiling for the first time today.
He positions me where he wants me, then he drops his hands and says, “Okay, now you can open them.”
I can’t open them fast enough, and when I do I see a wall of baby shoes. I grab his arm to brace myself as I look up and down, taking in the rows and rows of teeny tiny shoes to go on teeny tiny baby feet. The mental image of the onesie-wearing smiling baby kicking its little legs at me comes back…
I want to cry again. I don’t even care if it makes him uncomfortable, I grab Adrian and give him a big hug. He sighs like I’m annoying him, but he totally hugs me back.
“Thank you,” I say, quietly. “This was exactly what I needed.”
“Well, I know you like shoes.”
I pull back, grinning. “And baby shoes. They’re so tiny!”
I abandon Adrian for the shoes now, but I don’t think he’s sad about it. I gasp, grabbing a pair with the most darling little pink satin bow on them.
“Look at these. Are these not the cutest things you’ve ever seen?”
He smiles, but rolls his eyes at me. “Oh, yeah; I wish they had them in my size.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” I toss back, grinning at the shoes. “God, I hope it’s a girl.”
“Me too,” he agrees, more fervently than I expected. “That would make life a lot easier.”
That sounds a lot like Adrian has a better idea of where Mateo’s head is than I do, so I grab onto it. “That’s his issue, isn’t it? The stupid son thing?”
“I’m not disagreeing that it’s stupid, but you knew all this about him when you met the man. If that’s a boy and he raises it as his, it’s one of Mateo’s heirs.”
“But not the heir,” I point out. “Meg’s having a boy, he’ll be the eldest.”
“By a few months,” Adrian states. “That leaves a pretty damn good opportunity for a vicious rivalry to spring up. If anything happened to Mateo’s son, Vince’s son would take over Mateo’s family. That’s a huge risk.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to Mateo’s son.”
“Your son could want him out of the way so he could take Mateo’s place. They’ll be even closer in age than Mateo and Dante, and we’ve all kept an eye on Dante for as long as I’ve been around.”
“My child is not going to be a murderer,” I inform him.
Adrian’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you serious?”
“Well…” I grimace, realizing that’s probably not true. “Jesus, I don’t want my baby to be a murderer.”
“Whether he gets his own hands dirty or not, he’s not going to be virtuous. Not in this family. And given the history between those two bloodlines, it’s not completely insane for Mateo to be worried about it.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s stupid. Bloodlines don’t determine whether or not people will grow up to get along, it’s all in how they’re raised. If Mateo’s a jerk about it and makes it an issue, then yeah, something could pop up. So we don’t do that. We raise them as brothers regardless and move on with our lives. Every other baby I have will be Mateo’s. We can have 20 if he wants to. He just… he just has to accept this one first.”
“And what about Vince?”
Picking up a little pair of white booties, I say, “What about Vince?”
“If you let him take care of that problem, he’ll probably feel a lot better about this one.”
I hate everything about what he just said, so I ignore it and go back to admiring baby shoes.
Since I don’t know the gender yet, my shoe choices are limited. I end up picking out an adorable pair of newborn booties, white with little yellow duckies on them. I can’t stand how cute they are.
I’m feeling a lot better after baby shoe shopping, so I do get hungry. Adrian takes me out for tacos since Mateo is a hater of tacos and I never get them. It’s basically our tradition at this point.
When we get home, I feel a lot lighter. Adrian has to get back to work to make up for disappearing for the afternoon, but I’m really glad he did. That’s what Mateo should’ve done, but he’s too deep in his own head, sorting out of the problems associated with my pregnancy. I understand it isn’t ideal, obviously it’s not my first choice either, but the man has children by two women before me; he should be able to cut me a little slack here.
Chapter Twenty Five
Mia
Dinner is quiet and tense.
Mateo leaves with the guys when dinner is over. He doesn’t tell me where he’s going, so I have no idea when he’ll be home.
He does that sometimes, but infrequently enough that it makes me feel like there’s a problem when he does it tonight. I think about going to Meg’s room to talk to her, but I guess I shouldn’t do that anymore. When we were living as sister wives, it was fine to turn to each other when we needed someone to pick up the slack, but now that I’m on my own, it doesn’t seem fair.
I didn’t think the first thing I would have to shoulder solo would be something this huge. I wish I had someone else to talk to. It’s a lonely life when you fall out of favor, and I have a bad feeling I’m in for the fight of my life with this one.
I wonder what Vince is doing. Is he still hiding out at his dad’s? I would guess not, since Mateo said he found him. Wouldn’t be too hard to find if he was in the last place you looked. We haven’t talked about that again, since obviously this became the more pressing issue, but I wish I knew for sure he was all right. After last time, I don’t think Mateo would do anything impulsively, but finding out I’m probably carrying Vince’s baby is pretty damn good incentive if he was on the fence about it. How would I even know? No one would tell me. He could kill Vince and just lie to me about it.
I don’t think he has, though. He would be more relaxed about things, right?
Or maybe he wouldn’t. I don’t even know what his primary concern about all this is, because we’ve hardly said two words to each other.
This is not how I imagined entering motherhood.
I fall asleep alone.
I’m relieved, though, when I’m jostled awake as Mateo wraps his arms around me, tugging me back against him. I turn in his arms, leaning in to give him a kiss, but I don’t deepen it.
“Oh, my. You have had a lot to drink, haven’t you?”
“Yup.”
I smile as he leans in, leaving kisses along my neck. He smells like cigars, too. I’m considering suggesting we go shower, but I’m not sure I have the energy for all that. Maybe I’ll just suck it up.
As his magnificent mouth works its magic in the crook of my neck, Mateo murmurs roughly, “You have to let me kill Vince.”
That’s a mood killer. My smile falls and I sag. “Do we really have to talk about this now?”
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he replies.
“You know I won’t, so I don’t know why you keep asking. If he becomes a threat, that’s different, but if he’s minding his own business, thousands of miles away—”
“Minding his own business?” he demands, pulling back to widen his eyes at me. “He kidnapped you. You are mine and he got you pregnant. He took you away from me and he got you pregnant. I don’t give a fuck if he never comes back; I want him dead.”
I swallow, averting my gaze. “We don’t know for sure yet. Maybe the doctor got the date wrong. I was looking it up online, and I guess sometimes the baby is just a little smaller or a little bigger, so the doctor determines the woman has been pregnant for longer or not as long as she actually has. Since I don’t know the date of my last period, we don’t know that I got pregnant in Vegas. Let’s see what the test says next week.”
“And if it says Vince is the father, I can kill him?”
“Well, no.”
Mateo rolls his eyes, sighing and falling back on the bed. “Then what are we waiting for?”
“Does it really have to matter so much?” I ask, rolling onto my side and looking at him. “I know it isn’t ideal, but I love Bella even though she’s not mine, and you love Lily even though she’s not yours—and you didn’t even meet Lily until she was a few years old. You’ll be there every step of the way with this one. You’ll be her father in every way.”
“Her. And if it’s a boy?”
“Who cares if it’s a boy?”
“I do. Vince and I do not have compatible bloodlines.”
I sigh now, rolling on my back the same way he is. “You people and your fucking bloodlines.”
