by Scott Wylder
Tomas came back with an expression that Paolo couldn’t read. The man refused to say anything except that Paolo needed to go see her.
“No, sir. I’m afraid I’m not going to be the one to talk about this even with you. She does still work at the diner; she doesn’t have a beau; her mother is on the mend; and you really should go see her.”
“Tomas, dammit, man! Just fucking tell me whatever it is! I can’t go back there begging to her like some lovesick puppy after she threw me out. After she threw things at me.” Paolo slammed his hand down on the desk. He was fatigued and haggard all through his being. He simply wanted answers.
“Sir, with all due respect, put your pride in your pocket. Better yet, toss it out the window as you drive to her apartment.” Tomas did something he’d never done before; he turned and walked out of the room and Paolo heard his footsteps descend the steps.
“My pride, huh? So it all boils down to my pride again!” He swiped his keys from his desk and stomped downstairs and out to his car.
He didn’t knock on her door at first, merely stood there conjuring up images of her. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he finally raised his hand to knock.
Sofia opened the door as if she’d been standing there waiting for his knock. “Hello, Paolo.” She moved aside and motioned for him to come inside.
“Sofia. I’ve missed you terribly. Why haven’t you tried to see—”
His words failed as he turned to face her. Her face, already radiant, was absolutely, glowingly beautiful; her breasts were fuller; and so was her belly.
She rubbed her tummy and smiled at him as tears rolled down her cheeks.
His first reaction was to run like hell and get as far away as possible; but that was the Paolo from before the time of Sofia panicking. The Paolo that stood in her tiny apartment, haggard and tired, knew immediately that it was the best possible thing to ever happen to him. He instantly knew the child belonged to him.
Stammering, no words forming, he moved to her and placed his hand on her baby bump.
“She’s yours, Paolo.” Sofia sniffled but she was still smiling radiantly.
“A daughter?” He rubbed her tummy lightly. Unbelievable that he had made a child. After all his years of screwing around and never even having a close call, now he’d made a daughter with the woman who owned his heart. Tears stung the backs of his eyes.
Paolo hugged Sofia gently, carefully, so as not to squish her baby bump. “You’re mine now, Sofia. No matter what. You’re mine and she’s mine to love and protect forever.” He looked down at her belly and the first tear fell.
“Only if you can hold your head high and be proud of us no matter who’s around, Paolo. I won’t have my, our, daughter growing up feeling ashamed that her mother was a poor little waitress who embarrassed her father.”
There was that fire, that determination, that independent streak that would keep him in line and keep their life together interesting, he thought.
“I could never be ashamed of my two women. Damn the high society; who needs them and their approval to fall in love and have a family?”
“Then we’re all yours, Paolo.” Sofia stood on tiptoe and kissed him full on the mouth.
“I’ve waited almost a year for that one kiss.” He smiled contentedly and held her tighter.
“Then I guess we have a year’s worth of kissing to catch up on.” She grinned and kissed him again.