Leo places his hands on the sides of my face and stares at me. “I love you, Daphne. I want this day to be perfect. I want you to remember it always.”
“I will.” I rest my forehead against his lips, loving the way his hands feel on me and riding high on cloud nine.
My mother squeals as soon as we walk in the front door of the quaint little dress shop near the café. She rushes toward me with her arms open. I run to her, forgetting about Leo for a second because I’ve missed my mom more than anyone this month.
“Mama,” I say, holding her so tight both of us can barely breathe.
“Baby, I’ve missed you so much.” She buries her face in my hair like she used to do when I was a little girl. “You look so happy.”
“I am,” I whisper in her ear and squeeze her one more time before finally letting go.
“Mrs. Gallo,” Leo says as he stands behind me.
My mother pushes me out of the way and tackle-hugs the man, practically knocking him over. “I’m a hugger,” she tells him like he hasn’t figured that one out yet.
“Well, good thing for you, I like to be hugged.” He laughs and peers at me over my mother’s head because she’s a good foot shorter than him.
“It’s so nice to see you again.” She backs away and touches his chest. “And for such a happy occasion no less.”
I swear she’s kneading his pecs, totally feeling him up. Leo doesn’t seem to mind. He’s standing still, letting her touch him. “I’m just glad Daphne said yes.”
“That would’ve been awkward.” My mother glances over her shoulder at me. “Has she been taking it easy?” she whispers.
“I can hear you.”
“Oh.” She starts to laugh.
I pull my mother away from Leo’s chest. “I’ve been taking it easy. Leo’s made sure of it.”
“We better get started. We don’t have much time, and you have a lot of dresses to try on.”
“She could wear a bag, and she’d be beautiful,” Leo tells my mother before he kisses my cheek. “Spare no expense, bella. Buy anything you want.”
My mother starts to clap. “A man after my own heart,” she says, staring at Leo like he’s Prince Charming. “Now, go. You can’t see the dress.” She shoos him toward the door.
“Have fun, ladies,” Leo tells us before he leaves us alone.
“Tell me he has some major flaw.”
“Ma.” I give her a look.
“What? I may be old, but I’m sure as hell not dead.”
“Soon, we’ll be picking out your dress,” I remind her, wondering what the hell happened to their wedding plans.
“Your father wants to elope to Vegas and be married by an Elvis impersonator.” She rolls her eyes.
“Vegas could be fun.”
“An ex-mobster in a gangster town is not a smart combo, dear.”
“Yeah.” I forgot about Vegas’s illustrious roots, and with my father’s sudden departure from his previous life, it most definitely could be a recipe for disaster.
“We’ll get married at the bar and invite the neighborhood.” She waves her hands toward the dresses. “I don’t need all this after being together for more than three decades.”
I’ll have to plant the bug in my father’s ear. My mother deserves something grand for putting up with his shit for all these years. I wouldn’t have stuck around, waiting for him to grow up and praying every night he didn’t end up in the county morgue.
“You’re never too old for romance, Ma.”
* * *
I gaze at Leo as we stand on the altar of the old church, surrounded by our family in an intimate ceremony. The priest is Italian, speaking only a few words of broken English, but it doesn’t matter.
“You look beautiful,” Leo mouths as the priest says a prayer over our rings, blessing them along with our union.
I picked the dress just for him, wanting to knock his socks off with something classy. The bottom of the silk gown pools at my feet and hugs my body in all the right places, even showing off the baby bump perfectly.
Leo’s dressed in a black suit and silver tie, looking every bit as delicious as the night we met. That’s how we ended up in this situation. Me pregnant, and him begging me to be his forever.
My mother sniffles from the first row, always the first one to cry at a wedding. I couldn’t have planned a better wedding myself. I don’t need the flashy reception and hundreds of guests to profess my love and devotion to my future husband and baby’s father.
I’ve learned a lot about Leo, myself, and life during our trip away from our hectic lives in the city. Life’s sweet and short, needing to be savored like a fine wine instead of chugged like a cheap beer. Italy has helped me realize that. There’s no rush to be anywhere, meals are an event instead of a necessity, and everything has to do with pleasure.
In Chicago, everything is fast-paced, hectic, and anxiety-ridden. But now, after so long away, I crave the easiness of the tiny villages lined with cobblestone streets which scatter out like a spider web from the center.
Last night after dinner, I told Leo I’d be slowing down when we returned. I know he thought I was joking, but there’s no way I want to go back to the insanity of running a business when I don’t have to. I’ll pitch in, but my late-night shifts five days a week are a thing of the past. I want to be the mom who stays home with her baby, cuddling him or her and spoiling them rotten just like my mother did with us.
Memories are our legacy. We’re not remembered for how many hours we worked or the size of our bank account. Our actions are our imprint on people’s souls. How we treat others, the time we spend listening, and the way we love deeply are what will stay with a person long after we’re gone. I want the memories to be sustaining, lasting well beyond my lifetime. I want to be remembered for touching their souls and leaving a lasting imprint on their hearts.
I want my friends, family, and baby to think of me for the love I showered on them and not for the time I spent chained to a neighborhood bar on the South Side of Chicago.
I want my legacy to be undeniable.
Epilogue
Daphne
Seven Months Later
“Breathe,” Leo says, pushing the damp hair away from my forehead. “Remember Lamaze.”
I growl and grit my teeth, wondering how I ever loved the man who put me in this situation. “I’m fucking breathing,” I howl as the next contraction hits, catching me off guard.
I want to rip his face off. Scratch that, I want to rip his dick off, so this can never happen to me again. There’s no amount of classes or books that can prepare someone for labor. My body feels like it’s slowly ripping in half, and there’s nothing I can do to take the pain away.
Leo exhales through his mouth, sucking in a quick breath, like I’m going to do the same because there isn’t a watermelon trying to come out of my cunt.
“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss and push his face away, sick of listening to him.
“Bella, don’t be that way. This is such a happy day.”
“For who?” I yell, snarling at the man I showered with kisses when we woke up this morning. “You’re not dying. I am.”
Maybe I’m being a martyr, but every mother going through labor deserves to be whatever the hell she wants to be because the pain is immense.
I’m not talking about just a little bit. Take the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, magnify it by twenty, and stretch it across so many hours, you pray for death.
That’s birth.
“You’re being a little overdramatic.”
The nurse looks over, knowing my mood went from bad to shit in under a half a millisecond.
“Leo, if I live through this, I’m going to make you pay.”
“Come on. You love me,” he says and tries to lean in and kiss my cheek.
I turn my head, not wanting anything to do with his lips. “So. Help. Me. God.”
“How’s it going?” my mother asks, bringing me a new plastic cup filled with ice
chips and oblivious to the carnage that’s about to take place.
“She’s thinking of all the ways she can off me,” Leo tells her with a small laugh like he doesn’t actually think I’m serious.
“Don’t laugh, kiddo. The hate is real at this stage,” my mom says and shakes her head. “It’s like cornering a wild bear while covered in honey. You’re liable to get mauled.”
Leo backs up a step, glancing down at me in shock. “Well, I…”
“She blames you for this.” My mother waves her hand over my belly. “It’ll take her a while before she can ever look at you the same way again.”
“I’m right here,” I say because they’re talking about me like I’m not even in the room.
I know my mom’s only trying to help. How the hell she did this four times is beyond me. I can’t see myself willingly doing this again, no matter how cute the kid grows up to be.
My mother hands me the ice chips, but all I really want is a large pizza covered in pepperoni and dripping with grease.
“Thanks, Ma.” I try to muster a smile.
My insides are twisting again like I’m being torn apart by the baby’s fingernails one layer at a time. “You did this shit four times,” I say to my mother when I can finally breathe again. “How? Why?”
She takes my hand in hers and smiles sweetly. “When you lay eyes on your baby and fall head over heels in love, you forget the pain.”
I laugh cynically. “I will never forget this pain. Never.”
“Sweetheart,” she says softly. “All the happy memories and years you’ve given me have released every second of agony you put me through when I was in labor. And I mean, it was hell on earth. Epidurals were still too new when you were born for me to get one without worry.”
“I’m dying, Ma,” I groan.
“Don’t be a drama queen. In the olden days…”
“Don’t tell me people squatted in a field, had the baby, and kept on working. I don’t want to hear it.”
Leo collapses in a chair next to my bed, looking more disheveled than I’ve ever seen him before. His hair’s messy, the first three buttons on his dress shirt are undone, and his tie is loose and hanging around his neck.
“Well, if you’re anything like me, sweetheart, you won’t be in labor much longer.”
Pain slices through me again as every muscle in my abdomen tightens. I gasp, trying to breathe to alleviate some of the pain, but nothing seems to help.
“Are we ready to see how far along you are?” the doctor asks as he walks into the room, looking way too cheerful for me.
“Get this baby out of me,” I tell him. If I could reach down and pull the baby out myself, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Anything to make the pain stop.
The doctor puts on a pair of gloves and sits down between my legs. “Have you thought any more about an epidural?”
I had always said I wanted to do natural childbirth, using the techniques of Lamaze. I thought I was a hard-ass and could take pain better than most people…which is ridiculous. I was obviously delusional.
“I want one as soon as possible. I can’t take the pain much longer.”
“Well, let’s get in there.”
By there, he means my vagina. The thing I used to love, and so did Leo. Now, it’s a bringer of pain and giver of life. My poor pussy will never be the same. Permanently destroyed by the tiny human trying to rip me apart from the inside.
“Just relax,” the doctor says before he practically shoves his entire arm up my cunt, feeling out my cervix. “You’re dilated enough for an epidural.”
“Give it to me now,” I say without hesitation. I’m no longer looking to be a tough chick. There’s no medal of honor for enduring the pain. The kid’s not going to be the least bit impressed when they get older because I went to hell and back just so they could be born.
“Are you sure?” Leo asks, still sitting in his chair, pain-free and a lucky son of a bitch he’s still breathing.
I point at him and narrow my gaze. “You shut your mouth.” I would’ve lunged off the bed and wrapped my hands around his neck if I weren’t tethered to the doctor because his hand’s still up my twat.
Leo throws his hands in the air, maybe realizing the precarious position he’s in. “Anything you want, bella.”
My mother laughs and shakes her head. “Don’t argue with her, Leo.”
“I’d never.” He shakes his head, learning not to fight me on anything because I’ll just dig my heels in more. “I think an epidural is a great idea.”
The doctor snaps his gloves off and stands. “The anesthesiologist will be in shortly to administer the epidural. You’ll feel better once it’s in place and doing its job.”
“Thank fuck,” I hiss.
“You’re about seven centimeters dilated. We’re almost there.”
I don’t know why everyone in the room keeps referring to my birth as a we. I’m the only one in excruciating pain. The only one about to give birth. There’s no we about it. Everybody else is just an observer of my misery and not an active participant.
I groan and writhe around with each passing contraction, waiting for the epidural to arrive and wondering what the hell birth is really going to be like. The kid’s still in my uterus and hasn’t even started the slow and mighty tight trip down to my vagina. I think of the shoulders and cringe, knowing the real pain hasn’t even begun.
A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist walks into the room with some paperwork and the biggest needle I’ve ever seen in my life. “Are we ready for some relief?” he asks, being chipper like everybody else who walks into my room.
“Never been so ready for something in my entire life,” I say as the nurse scans my medical bracelet.
“You’ll feel better quick,” he says, setting everything out on a tray next to my bed. “You’re going to need to sit up so I can get at your back.”
Sitting up, or should I say, the act of sitting up, has become damn near impossible. My stomach’s the size of a beach ball, and I don’t even remember what my feet look like anymore.
Leo rushes to my side as I try to pull myself up and fail. I don’t push him away or try to claw his face off because I need him to help me make this pain go away.
Leo pulls me up, and I throw my legs over the side. I have no shame left as everyone in this room has seen either my ass or my pussy. It’s no longer sacred or pretty either.
“The nurse is going to help me navigate your contractions, so we can do this safely.” He’s doing something to my back as he speaks, but I don’t bother to ask. All I want is relief, and whatever it takes to make that happen, I’ll do. “You need to hold completely still while I do this procedure.”
I don’t even remember what it’s like to be still. The pain and aftermath of each passing contraction make me move around the bed like I’m drunk dancing on the floor, too plastered to stand on my own two feet.
Leo looks me straight in the eye, holding my arms with each hand as he lowers himself so we’re face-to-face. “Just look at me,” he says.
I level him with my gaze. “You’re the reason I’m in this much pain.”
“I know. Focus on your hate,” he tells me. “Plot my death in your head if you must. Just stay still.”
My fingernails dig into his arms as I clutch him while he’s holding on to me. The procedure’s quicker than I imagined and not nearly as painful because, again, there’s a human ripping out of my body.
“In a few minutes, you’ll feel numb,” the anesthesiologist says. “You can lie back down and relax.”
“You’re doing great,” Leo says sweetly.
I still want to rip his face off, but the need to do so lessens every few seconds.
The nurse presses a few buttons on the fetal monitor as I lie back down. “You should be able to get some rest now. You’re going to need it for delivery.”
My mother stands at the foot of my bed and smiles. “I’m going to go talk to your father and brothers. I’ll be back, sweethea
rt. Sleep a little.”
“Yeah, Ma. I’ll do my best.”
Moments later, everyone’s gone, and it’s just Leo and me left in the room.
“Better?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I say, but I can already feel the epidural working its magic, reducing the agony.
Leo leans over the bed and grabs my hand. “Just rest, bella.”
I close my eyes, thinking I can get a few hours. But I should’ve known better. Hospitals are not the place for any type of relaxation. People are constantly in and out of the room, staring up my birth canal like it holds some magical answers to the universe. There’s a flurry of people, studying my vital signs and the baby’s heartbeat. There’s no rest. There will never be a moment’s peace for the rest of my entire life because I’m about to be a mother.
* * *
“Push,” the doctor says as I hold my knees, feeling more exhausted than I have ever felt in my entire life.
“You can do this,” Leo cheers me on, and I’m back to wanting to end his life.
I feel like I’m attempting to take the biggest shit of my life, and no matter how hard I try to bear down and push it out, there’s nothing moving.
“I can see the head,” the doctor says, looking up from between my legs.
“Get the baby out of me,” I plead as tears stream down my face, pushing with everything I have in me.
“Just a few more pushes,” the doctor says, like that’s going to make me feel any better.
I don’t want to do a few more pushes. Hell, I don’t even want to do one more. I want this all to be over, holding the baby in my arms, forgetting all about the last twelve hours of my life.
“You’re doing so well.” Leo smiles as he wipes down my face with a cool, damp cloth.
“How about you two grab her legs and help her through the last few?” the doctor tells Leo and my mother, and I know we’re about to get to the grand finale.
Each one of them holds a knee, staring between my legs as I pull myself forward and push with everything I’ve got.
Flow: Men of Inked: Southside 2 Page 16
