by Sofia Tate
He smiles briefly at my admonition. “I know. Please tell me you forgive me, because I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”
I pull my hands from his so I can caress his face, running my fingertips softly over his eyebrows, his aquiline nose, his chiseled lips. He holds his head up to me in offering, allowing me to continue with my ministrations, reveling in the feel of my hands on him again after so long.
I can’t believe he’d been carrying all this pain. Tears form again in the corners of my eyes.
This man…and all I did, berating him for keeping things from me. I wouldn’t know where to start imagining what he’s been through.
And I was so selfish, thinking it was about me, my weight, the way I talk.
It’s not always about you, idiot.
He is so lovely. He is my home, and he’s come back to me.
I smile back at him so widely, his face now mirroring mine.
He opens his mouth to speak, his voice raw and rough. “I love you, Luciana.”
I let the tears fall freely now. “That’s good because I love you too, Prague Boy.”
Tomas envelops my face in his hands and kisses me softly and deeply.
When we finally come up for air, he caresses my face with both hands, his eyes roaming over me. “Thank you for giving me another chance. I can’t wait to start my life with you. We’re going to have beautiful babies.”
He gets a distant look in his eyes, imagining our future children.
I clear my throat. “Yeah…about that…”
“What?”
“We kind of put the cart before the horse.”
“What does that mean?”
I shake my head. “It means that we kind of did things out of order. You know the standard protocol is first you get married, then you pop out the kids.”
“Yes.”
“Well…” I take his hand and place it over my belly.
His eyes pop out of my head. “Are you pregnant?”
A huge grin takes over my face. “Yup.”
He starts to tremble. “But…but…when did you find out?”
“Right before you left. Well, I suspected, but I wasn’t sure. You bailed on me—”
A confused look crosses his eyes.
Oh right. Idiom. “It means you left me behind, and then I found out for sure.”
A look of horror crosses his face. He takes a step back, running his right hand over his face and his hair. “Oh.”
He’s kidding, right? That’s all I get?
“’Oh?’ All I get is ‘oh’?”
“I just…it’s just,” he stumbles, “…a lot.”
“Yeah, I would say so,” I reply, my voice rising in frustration. “You do want this baby, don’t you?”
Tomas looks at me directly, his eyes blank, his face pale. “I have to go,” he mumbles.
What the fuck…
I quickly take two steps toward him, grabbing his arm. “Please don’t go,” I beg him. “I’m sorry, I know this was a shock, and after everything you just told me…we need to talk. Please stay, baby.”
“I need some time, Luciana,” he whispers.
Well, that’s pretty clear. He’s done with me and I’ll be a single parent.
But no way in hell am I letting him see me break down because of him.
“Go then,” I whisper in return.
He gives me one last glance before walking out the door. I stand paralyzed as I hear him exchange words with my parents, the front door slamming behind him.
Within a minute, my father is standing in my room.
“Are you all right, love?”
Not by a fucking long shot.
I rush toward him, a fresh set of tears streaming down my cheeks. “Get out of my way, Daddy. I’m going to throw up.”
* * *
Lucy
Babies “R” Us
Union Square
One week later
I stare mesmerized at the electric double breast pump.
“That is one scary motherfucker.”
My mother looks around me. “Luciana! There are children here,” she hisses at me in admonition.
Fuck, she’s right.
I pick up the breast pump, taking it all in.
“I love you, sweetheart, foul mouth and everything. But once you have a child, you need to be more mindful of your preferred vocabulary,” she informs me.
“I know, Mom. I still can’t believe this is happening.” I gesture to the machine in my hand. “Put this one down.”
We’re walking around making a list of things to put on my baby registry. I mindlessly pick up a variety pack of pacifiers, letting it drop just as quickly back onto the shelf out of my hands.
I sigh to myself. This is something I should be doing with Tomas.
A warm arm encircles my shoulder. “He’ll come around, sweetheart,” my mother reassures me.
I lean into my mother’s side, taking in the comforting scent of her favorite Estee Lauder perfume.
“I know, Mom. I just wish he would understand that we’re okay now. I’m not going anywhere and he can trust me with his feelings. I can help him, but he’s still holding back from me. I love him so much.”
“I know you do. You just need to be patient. And he’s the perfect man for you.”
I smile to myself. “Yeah, he is.” I pull back from my mother, glancing around the store. “I’ve decided I want to know the sex of the baby beforehand,” I mention casually. “I need to know so I can decorate the nursery with the right colors.”
“You could always go gender neutral and use a soft yellow color palette.”
“I don’t want to be surprised. I’ve had enough surprises for one lifetime,” I mumble, then let out a long yawn.
She squeezes my shoulder. “I think we’ve had enough for one day, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty wiped. I’d love a bath.”
“And we’ll order in some Chinese.”
“Perfect.”
We walk out of the store and turn the corner when something tall and broad bumps right into me.
“Hey, asshole—” I shout, and then just as quickly, my mouth drops.
“Hallo, Luciana.”
I look up into Tomas’s deep blue eyes now looking at me with concern, his hands holding my shoulders firmly. “I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
I smile for a second, recalling this is how we first met. I shake like a nervous schoolgirl, so happy to see him. I want to reach out and grab him and kiss him, but I restrain myself to let him make the first move.
Patient. Just like Mom said. Be patient.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
“I just had a meeting with Professor Waltz at the Conservatory. I needed his advice.” He turns to my mother. “Hallo, Mrs. Gibbons.”
She acknowledges him in a civil manner, short and succinct. “Tomas.”
“Luciana, could we talk?” he asks me carefully.
“Sweetheart, why don’t I go home and order our dinner? I think you and Tomas need some time together alone,” my mother offers.
I nod in gratitude, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. “I think that’d be good. I’ll see you in a bit.”
She gives Tomas a final “Don’t mess with my only child” look and walks toward the subway station entrance.
My feet are killing me. “Let’s go sit down.”
We cross the street into Union Square Park, his left hand on the small of my back, leading me, protecting me, and I find I like it.
He steers me toward the first empty bench. “How have you been? Are you still throwing up?”
I sigh, leaning back into the wood. “Not as much. My doctor gave me some anti-nausea meds that have helped.”
He gently takes my hand into his and takes a deep breath. “Luciana, I’m so sorry for how I behaved the last time I saw you, leaving you like that. I’m so embarrassed. It was just such a shock, you know.”
I nod, exhaling from
relief at his words. “I can imagine. You weren’t expecting to hear that.”
“Not at all.”
I grip his hand tighter. “And I’m sorry for not being more sensitive about it, especially after what you told me about Petra and the baby. I wasn’t thinking clearly, just laying it on you.”
“It’s okay, my love. It was an odd day, seeing you again after I’d left like that. You had every right to your feelings.”
I want to cry at the sound of him calling me “my love” again after so long, but I keep myself in check. I move in closer to him until our thighs touch. He coils an arm around me, and I snuggle into his hard, strong body, the body of the man I’ve missed more than I realize.
I sigh contentedly. “Let’s just start over, baby. One day at a time.”
“I would like that very much,” he replies in a raw voice, choked with emotion.
We sit quietly for a few minutes. I need to gather my nerve to ask him the one question I need answered.
“Tomas?”
“Yes?”
I swallow in my throat. “Are you happy about the baby?”
I sense his head turning into me, his hot breath on my ear. “I can’t wait to meet our baby, darling. Does that help?”
Shifting toward him, I place my lips over his and kiss him ever so softly, just enough so he knows I never stopped loving him or wanting him. “More than you know.”
I lean my head back into the crook of his shoulder as his arm holds me tighter, savoring this quiet moment together while watching New Yorkers rush by going about their daily lives, the sounds of the city forming a cacophony around us. But we sit quietly together in our cocoon, reveling in the feel of each other, finally together, ready to start anew.
* * *
Tomas
Tribeca
Two weeks later
Calm. Remain calm. Just breathe.
I couldn’t wait another day to do this. Luciana and I have talked every day since I saw her in Union Square, and I’ve gone with her to meet her doctor, who is very nice and friendly, which I like. And I probably came at the wrong time, judging by the look on Luciana’s father’s face when he opens the door.
“Tomas,” he sighs, “you’ve lived in New York City long enough to know that New Yorkers call ahead before they stop by someone’s home. We’re about to sit down to dinner.”
Shit. This is not starting out well.
“I apologize, sir. I promise to keep this short. I just need to see Luciana.”
He gives me another pointed look and exhales. “Fine. Come with me.”
I follow Mr. Gibbons to their dining area where Luciana is sitting at the table with her mother. She instantly jumps up from the table, rushes to me, and kisses me softly on the lips.
“Hi, baby. What’s going on?” she asks. I know she’s nervous because her eyebrows are narrowed and her hands hold tightly onto my forearms.
“May I speak to you privately?”
“Of course.”
She takes me by the hand and leads me to her room, shutting the door behind her.
“Please sit,” I ask of her, pointing to the bed.
Her lovely blue eyes look me over, trying to figure out what’s going on. “Okay,” she replies suspiciously.
She does as I ask. I move closer to her, looking her directly in the eyes.
“Luciana, I want you to know again how sorry I am for how I left you like that…”
She tilts her head at me curiously. “Tomas, it’s all right. We’re past that now.”
“And I know we’ve had our ups and downs.” I gesture with my hand resembling the thing that I don’t know the name of in English.
She laughs and smiles. “A roller coaster.”
“Yes, it’s been a roller coaster for us. But honestly, I think I would’ve been bored with anyone else. You have brought much joy to my life, and I know that you’re the one I want to be with always.”
I slowly lower myself to the floor, leaving one knee upright. I hear her gasp as I pull the ring box from my jacket pocket, the one my mother gave me.
Her hands are closed over her mouth, and tears are falling down her face. She’s never looked more beautiful.
“Oh my God,” I hear her say muffled by her hands.
“I love you, Luciana. Will you marry me?” I propose to her, not taking my eyes from her face.
“Yes!” she shouts, sinking to the floor to grab me, kissing me again and again.
She holds me closely to her. I can feel her luscious curves shaking in my grip as tears of my own escape my eyes. “Thank fucking God,” I hear her mumble into my neck, and I burst out laughing. I love my Luciana so much. My Luciana with the dirty mouth.
I laugh to myself because she just echoed my own thoughts. “I know. Finally. I’m so happy, darling.”
“Me too. Now, you need to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“You have to ask my father for my hand in marriage.”
Shit.
I gulp nervously. “Oh, yes, I forgot that part.”
I rise to my feet first, helping my fiancée and future mother of my child to hers. She takes my hand once more to lead me back to the dining area. “Daddy!” she calls out.
I hear him growl in reply. “What? I’m eating.”
“Tomas has a question for you.”
We reach the table, where Mr. Gibbons looks me over with narrowed eyes. “Does he now?”
She pats me on the back. “Good luck, Prague Boy.”
I watch as she sits back down at her place at the table, glancing back at me and giving me a quick wink and smile.
I love that fucking woman.
Oh my God, I caught it. And I love it.
CHAPTER SIX
Northern Italy
Present day
I’d never been so nervous in my life than that moment,” Tomas admits.
“Hey, you needed a little torture after what you put me through, ditching me like that,” I counter.
“What’s that American expression? I was ‘shitting blocks.’”
I laugh quietly under my breath, turning around to make sure Marika and Mimi were still asleep. “Shitting bricks.”
“Ano. Shitting bricks. I could say the same about the day the girls were born.”
I sigh. “Oh yeah. That day, I could’ve shit an entire apartment building.”
* * *
Lucy
Lenox Hill Hospital
New York, NY
Maternity Ward
Five years ago
“Oh my God!”
“Luciana…”
“Are you fucking kidding me with this?”
“Please, darling…”
“You are not touching me EVER AGAIN! And if you come near me with another ice chip, I’ll shove it up your ass!”
They weren’t kidding. Giving birth to a child really does feel like you’re pushing a watermelon out of your vagina. And it’s not just one baby. I’m in labor with two babies. TWO. I’m really paying for something I’ve done in a past life, like maybe being one of the people who contributed to lighting Joan of Arc’s pyre.
When my ob/gyn first detected the two heartbeats during one of my ultrasounds, Tomas and I started crying from the happy news. The sounds of them were so strong, beating almost in tandem, and we joked saying we knew they were our kids since they seemed so in tempo and Tomas and I were opera singers. But then we left the appointment, and that’s when the panic set in. Two kids. At once. We barely said a word to each other on the way back to my house. We were in total shock. But then we told my parents, and they were over the moon for us, so excited at the prospect of two grandkids at the same time. They started saying how they’d help out any way they could with babysitting, midnight feedings, all of it. Hearing all that calmed us down, knowing that we weren’t on our own.
Finally, the contraction is subsiding. I’ve got needles poking me everywhere and two fetal monitors sitting on my belly like some giant sea
t belts with the extensions. I look hideous.
But God bless Tomas. Despite the perspiration on my face and clamping onto his hand with a death-like grip, he keeps reassuring me that I look beautiful, telling me how much he loves me. And hearing him say all that in his smooth Czech accent doesn’t hurt either.
I take a deep relaxing breath as he leans in and wipes my forehead with a wet cloth, cooling me instantly.
“You’re doing so well, my love.”
I smile weakly at him. “You’re a good liar, Tomas Novotny. I almost bought that. It’s too bad my vag is going to be so blown out after this that you’ll be able to drive a Mack truck through it.”
He shakes his head and leans in to kiss me when one of the fetal monitors starts beeping like crazy and alarms go off. We both look over at the screen and the steady number that was there before is now plummeting, the heart symbol next to it flashing over and over.
“Oh God, what’s happening?” I shout.
Within seconds, two nurses and my ob/gyn, Doctor Gretchen Avery, rush into my room. Gretchen is a petite brunette who’s always calm and collected, which is good for a drama queen like me. When she sees the heart rate on the monitor and then checks my belly, she starts ordering commands to the nurses to prep me and an OR for a C-section.
She turns to me. I know she can see the terror in my eyes and Tomas’s. “Luciana, one of the babies is in fetal distress and we need to get both of them out now. Everything will be okay. Let’s go!”
Before I know what’s happening, I’m being assisted onto a gurney and the locks are released as I’m wheeled away. “Tomas!” I call out for him.
“It’s okay, honey. They’re just getting him ready for the OR. You’ll see him before you know it,” one of the nurses at my side reassures me.
I’m pushed through a set of double doors, bright lights blinding me from overhead. Activity swirls around me. A drape is drawn across my chest, obscuring the view of my belly. I just want Tomas. I need to hear his smooth accent comforting me, telling me everything will be fine. I also need to tell him something.
Finally, he’s there, leaning over me. All I can see are his beautiful blue eyes because he’s wearing a surgical mask.
