by Bethany-Kris
“All right, Melina you’re doing fine. Give me another push,” Dr. Adams said.
Melina looked at her husband and squeezed his hand tighter. He offered her an encouraging smile.
“Right here with you, doll.”
Melina nodded and pushed with the next contraction. Her body felt as if it was ripping in two. Her vagina hurt in a way it never had as she continued to push with the contractions.
“Almost there, Mrs. Maccari. I can see the baby’s head,” Dr. Adams said.
Melina rested back against the pillows as beads of sweat ran down her forehead.
“I just … need … a minute,” she gasped.
Mac pressed a cool cloth to her forehead. “You’re doing just fine, Melina.”
“I’m so tired.”
“You’re almost done, Mrs. Maccari. A few more pushes, and your son will be in your arms.”
Melina nodded, her body still in fiery pain as she leaned forward and bore down as hard as she could. Her body begged for relief, and her lungs screamed for air but she couldn’t stop. Not now.
“His head is out, doll. Keep pushing!” Mac said.
She looked down but the drape over her legs hid everything. She wanted to see their son so badly. With a final scream, Melina pushed again as hard and as long as she could. She fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes, completely exhausted. And she heard her son’s cry, loud and lusty.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Maccari. You have a beautiful, healthy baby boy.”
Hours later, Mac and Melina were enclosed in a private room. Though her body still ached, with a dull pain, it didn’t matter. She’d do it all over again if it meant having this precious angel in her arms. Swaddled in a soft blue blanket, Melina held her son. He was the most precious thing she’d ever seen.
“Melina, he’s perfect,” Mac said.
She looked at her husband and wasn’t surprised to see his eyes glistening as well.
“Yes, he is.”
Melina gazed at her son, noting his head full of black hair and small perfect features. He had her nose for certain, but the curve of his lips and the shape of his brow were all Mac. She wondered what color his eyes would be.
“He looks like you, Mac.”
Her husband took their son’s tiny hand. Reflexively, the little hand curled around Mac’s pointer finger.
“Yeah, but he has your nose.”
“That’s about it though.”
The baby stirred in her arms, and Melina smiled as she noted the baby attempting to open his eyes. Melina held her breath as she continued to watch her son ever so slowly open his eyes.
“I’d say his eyes are all yours, doll.”
Melina couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face as she gazed into eyes so much like her own. Deep, amber pools of light met hers.
“Hi there, handsome,” Melina said to the baby.
“Now being handsome, he got from his dad,” Mac said.
Melina elbowed her husband. “Smartass.”
“You love it.”
Mac kissed Melina, and she responded easily. It was amazing the connection they had. The ease in every touch, every look they exchanged. Mac was her soulmate now and always. She was as sure of that as she was of her name. Speaking of names.
“Mac, we still haven’t decided on a name. I think I have one in mind,” she pointed out.
“Well don’t keep me in suspense.”
“How about Marquise? I know it’s not a common name, but it’s still Italian.”
Melina bit her lip as she glanced at Mac, gauging his reaction.
“Marquise, huh?”
“Marquise Maccari,” Melina said softly.
“It does have a certain ring to it. I like it.”
“You hear that, Marquise? Your dad is in agreement for once in his life.”
Marquise seemed to smile at her comment.
“Happy wife. Happy life. I learned that lesson a while ago.”
“I’ll make sure to remind you of this conversation ten years from now,” Melina said.
Smiling at her son, a fresh wave of tears blurred her eyes. She tried to hold them back. This was a happy day. The happiest day of her life, but yet she suddenly ached for the voids that couldn’t be filled.
“Melina?” Mac put his finger under her chin. “Talk to me.”
She wiped her face before the tears could fall on Marquise. “I’m not sure how to put it into words.”
Mac pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Try.”
Melina chewed on her lip for a moment before she spoke. “I don’t think there could be anything more wonderful than having you and Marquise. I know it’s selfish for me to take anything away from this moment, but … my parents … I wish they were here.”
Her tears flowed anew, and Melina could’ve sworn baby Marquise frowned as she cried. She smiled at him through her tears as Mac pulled her into the circle of his arms. His chin rested atop her head.
“You don’t have a selfish bone in your body and on a day like this, I’d be worried if you hadn’t thought about your parents. There’s nothing wrong with you wishing they were here.”
Melina looked at her husband. “You really don’t think I’m spoiling our son’s birth with all this crying? I’m not usually like this.”
“Of course not, doll. I was just thinking why don’t we give him Daniel as a middle name?”
“I think I’d like that,” Melina said softly.
Mac was such a dichotomy of a man. Strong, but yet loving in a way others could never truly understand or appreciate. His acknowledgment of her pain, and his heartfelt desire to honor her feelings only made her feel as if she was falling in love with him all over again. Before she could say anything, the door to her hospital room burst open. She couldn’t see who had entered behind the masses of balloons and gifts.
“All right, give him up. Let me see my first grandchild.”
As the balloons were carefully herded into a corner, Cynthia Maccari and Mac’s sister, Victoria, crowded around Melina’s bed.
“He’s beautiful. Finally, bro, you did something right,” Victoria said.
“Stop being such a smartass,” Cynthia said.
Melina laughed. “Wow. I think that is the first time I’ve ever heard you curse.”
“Me, too,” Mac said. “Wonders never cease.”
Cynthia waved her son away as she reached for the baby. Gently, Melina handed her mother-in-law her precious bundle. Marquise wiggled as he was handed off to his grandmother. Melina held her husband’s hand as his mother cooed and awed over their son.
“He looks so much like you, Mac. The resemblance is uncanny,” Cynthia said.
“The Maccari genes are strong, but at least he has Melina’s eyes,” Victoria said.
“With babies this beautiful from the two of you, I’m definitely going to be looking forward to more grandchildren.”
Mac coughed. Loudly. “Me too.”
“You two are really full of it. I just had a natural birth where I cannot even begin to describe the amount of pain I endured, and you two are already planning for more babies.”
“Melina, you really are a wonder woman. Natural? No, thank you,” Victoria said.
Cynthia smiled down at Marquise. “Point taken. How about I mention it again in about six months? This little angel is going to need a sibling.”
Despite the absurdity of the situation, Melina laughed. For better or worse, this was her family. No matter what happened tomorrow or the day after, nothing in the world could spoil this magical moment
It had been three days since Melina was released from the hospital, and little Marquise had surprisingly given her and Mac very little trouble. At first she’d wondered if their son was going to be one of those babies that cried all the time and refused to sleep like some of the horror stories she’d heard about new babies. So far that hadn’t been the case. Marquise seemed to sleep in two hour intervals and awakened promptly for his feedings. They’d tried
breastfeeding in the hospital, but her milk hadn’t come fast enough to satisfy her son, so he was now happily bottle-fed.
Mac was equally sharing all of their parental responsibilities and for that she would always be thankful. Sleeping in intervals was a new thing for the both of them, but they were managing the new change in their lives well. Marquise not only had his father’s looks but Mac’s temperament as well. Rarely did their son fuss or cry. At the moment, their little bundle of happiness was curled in Melina’s arms staring at her intently.
“Mommy’s not getting any of these thank you cards written because she can’t stop staring at you, Marquise. You’re too precious for words.”
She loved talking to him like this.
Holding him like this.
Watching him grow day by day.
Melina felt fulfilled in a way she’d never thought could be possible.
“I don’t think that anyone will hold it against you, doll.”
Mac entered the living room dressed in a tailored black suit and sat down beside her on the couch.
“I don’t know. Some might say having a baby doesn’t excuse good manners,” Melina teased.
“With the mountain of gifts we’ve received, I’m positive the people will understand.”
“To be honest I might be procrastinating a bit with the thank you cards.”
“And why is that?” Mac reached for Marquise’s hand and allowed the tiny fingers to curl around his own pointer finger.
“I thought some of them might come by and I could thank them in person, especially Neeya. I haven’t seen or heard from her at all.”
Mac took Marquise from her arms and held his son, but Melina didn’t miss the subtle tensing in his shoulders.
“Mac, what do you know?”
“What makes you think I know anything?”
Melina cocked a brow. “You tensed up when I mentioned her. Now spill.”
“Neeya’s been busy as of late.”
“Luca is still behind bars. I’m sure she’s working with lawyers trying to get him out. I can understand.”
Mac shook his head. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it? Why are you being so cryptic? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine, if you consider selling everything she owns and liquidating her assets fine.”
“What?” Melina asked.
“Yeah.”
Melina frowned. What Mac was saying didn’t make any sense? The Neeya she knew would be fighting tooth and nail to get her husband home and fighting anyone that got in her way. What Mac was telling her sounded like … no …
“Is Neeya leaving Luca?”
Marquise made a noise, and they both looked at him. Mac rubbed a thumb across their son’s cheek.
“I don’t know.”
“I see.”
Melina was quiet as the possible ramifications of a Pivetti split ran through her mind.
“So what happens now?” she finally asked.
“I don’t have any answers right now, but maybe my meeting will shed some light on things.”
“Meeting with?”
“Luca.”
“Mmhmm. I knew there was a reason you were extra snazzy.”
Mac cocked a brow. “Snazzy?”
Melina rolled her eyes. “You’ve never heard that word before? Seriously?”
“No.”
“It means dressed extra well. Looking extra nice.”
“You learn something new every day,” Mac said before he pressed a kiss to Marquise’s cheeks.
“Yes. We do.”
Mac looked at her, a small furrow forming between his brows. “I don’t want you to worry.”
“How can you expect me not to? It’s not just us to consider. We have our son, too,” Melina pointed out.
“Fuck, I know that.”
In Mac’s lap, Marquise whined. “I’m sorry, little man,” he apologized before turning to her. “I’ll be the first to admit things are a little shaky right now, but I live and breathe for you and our son. I will battle the Devil himself to keep you safe.”
Melina leaned into her husband. “I know. I’m not doubting you. You know I’m always in your corner.”
“Yeah. It’s one of the reasons I married you. Love and loyalty like yours is hard to come by.”
“Likewise. You go and handle your business. Marquise and I will be fine.”
Mac nodded and gave her back their son before he pulled her close and kissed her. Their lips melded together in a kiss that spoke of love and a sweet, yet hot passion. When Mac drew away, Melina already missed the touch of his lips on hers.
“If you keep kissing me like that, doll, we’re going to have a problem.”
He stood up and looked at her with desire in his eyes.
“You and I have a while before we can engage in any of that activity again, Mr. Maccari.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it every time I look at you. Pregnancy has been exceedingly good to you, wife.”
Melina made a shooing motion with her hands. “Stop making me horny and go to your meeting, Mac.”
“All right. I’ll see the two of you when I get back. Love you, doll.”
“We love you, too.”
Melina leaned back on the sofa as she heard Mac turn on the alarm before he exited the house. Alone with her son, Melina resolved to do her best not to worry. One thing Mac excelled in was handling his business. In retrospect, she had to wonder exactly how long he’d been sitting on this information about his boss’s wife. She’d been so wrapped up in her bubble of happiness that she hadn’t thought once about the Pivetti Organization. Perhaps she should have. Perhaps these few days were just an idyllic lull of happiness before another tsunami hit their lives. For once, she hoped she was wrong.
The jail was cold from the outside looking in, but it was far colder the very second Mac stepped foot inside the building. It was a simple, yet effective, reminder to Mac, how fragile a person’s freedom really was in the grand scheme of things. In an instant, and without any sort of warning, that freedom could be taken away.
Luca certainly hadn’t been given any warning before his arrest.
The thought bothered Mac more than he was willing to admit.
Mac’s mind traveled to his wife and newborn son at home, and for a split second, he wavered in his desire to go further inside the jail. His boss was his boss, no doubt about it. Mac always followed the rules of Cosa Nostra, which included never shunning a boss when he called on a man. The moment Mac had gotten word from Enric that Luca Pivetti wanted a meeting, then he had no other choice but to follow through.
He had to see the boss.
But Mac had never been more aware than he was in that moment of just how much of his own freedom he was risking to be there.
As it was, Mac was already on the officials’ radar.
All the Pivetti men were.
It was a major source of discontent between the men in the Pivetti Organization. With a likely rat amongst their ranks, trust between any of them was a beautiful myth. It was no wonder that not a single Capo was willing to work with another, and that the men took any chance given to point out another man’s flaws or culpabilities.
Despite how uneasy it made Mac to be at the jail, he walked further inside, strolling up to a waiting receptionist, sitting behind a Plexiglas window. The woman barely glanced at Mac as she typed on a keyboard and snapped a wad of gum in her mouth.
Mac’s patience wore thin the longer he waited on the woman to, at the very least, acknowledge him. “Hello?”
The woman cocked a brow and looked up at Mac. “Visitation or request?”
“Pardon?”
“Are you visiting a detainee, or requesting a meeting with a detective on the Precinct level?”
“Visiting a detainee.”
The woman shoved a clipboard through the rectangular shaped hole in the bottom of the Plexiglas window, pushing through a pen to drop on top of the papers. “
Fill out the paperwork. You can sit over there.”
She pointed to a small waiting area that sported hard chairs, one coffee table, and magazines that looked to be older than the fucking hills.
“Don’t ask me for help,” she added, “because I don’t have time.”
Well, what the fuck was she even there for?
Mac didn’t bother to let the woman’s attitude bother him, instead snatching up the items and making a beeline for one of the many chairs in the waiting area. Once seated, with his back turned to the woman and her snapping gum, he looked over the papers.
Pretty standard shit.
ID information.
Visitation request information.
It was basically a log of who he was, where he could be found or contacted, and who he was there to visit. Mac didn’t understand why the woman had made such a big deal about someone needing help because it was pretty basic nonsense. Or maybe he found the form easy to fill out because this wasn’t his first rodeo with jail or prison visitation.
Mac went down through the questions, filling them out rather quickly. It didn’t even take him ten minutes before he was back in front of the Plexiglas window and pushing the clipboard and pen back through. He pulled out his wallet, providing picture ID to be taken and photocopied, as the form requested.
Silently, the woman went to work inputting the information onto her computer and photocopying his ID before handing it back.
Mac shoved the license back into his wallet just as the woman pointed to the waiting area again. “It’ll be a few minutes.”
Wonderful.
Mac waited another thirty minutes, long enough for more people to file in, wanting visitations themselves, and filling up the seats all around him. A guard came through a large metal door, calling his name and waving him in.
Security in the jail was not as tight as security in a prison, he found. He still went through a metal detector, and had to give up his wallet and coat. His shoes were also taken and put through the metal detector before he was allowed to put them back on. But, it was easier and quicker than getting checked at security in the prison … or even an airport, actually.
Mac was directed to yet another seating area, only the chairs faced Plexiglas windows where empty seats waited on the other side of the glass for the inmates. Small, thin separator walls were erected between each section as if to give some sense of privacy, although Mac figured that was more for show than anything else.