Jillian remained silent a little too long after her sudden initial interest in Lorenzo and where he could be, silently contemplating the information I’d given her. Her brows were drawn down, and her thumbnail was securely held between her teeth. One of two things had to be going on in that beautiful head of hers. Either she was afraid he was a loose cannon, gunning for her from every direction…or, she hoped he was a loose cannon and would show his face soon. Neither scenario sat well with me.
She had every reason and right to want revenge against him after what he took from her. But then again, she had every right and reason to exact her own choice of revenge against me, too. Since Jillian hadn’t been back to my parents’ house with me, Mama still hadn’t let me eat at the table with the rest of the family. I remained in exile, banished to the kitchen counter, forced to stand during my meals. Looking at Jillian sitting beside me, having her near me again, I realized I’d stand in the fucking corner for the rest of my life if she just forgave me.
“Do you think he’ll come after me again to try to regain good standing with his family?”
I felt the weight of her stare on me, analyzing my reaction and waiting to assess my reply. To what end was my question, one I’d have to carefully gauge without outright asking her. My suspicions were high, but that was nothing new for me. I’d never fully trusted anyone outside of my immediate family—and a couple of them had even given me reason to doubt their word at one time or another. The thing was, I hated being suspicious of Jillian. Though it ran counter to my natural instincts, I found myself wanting to trust her, wanting to push the doubts aside and kick caution to the sideline.
“It’s very possible, Jillian. I won’t lie to you about it. I’d rather you watch over your shoulder for a while than have a false sense of security. You know as long as I’m still breathing, I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
“You’re not always around, Damon. You may not have a say-so in the matter.”
“All the more reason why you should be living with me instead of my sister.”
“But I’m not living with you. I’m living with Carrie, at least for the time being. Until this clusterfuck with Lorenzo is over and I can find my own place.”
That sucker punch to the gut fucking hurt.
With a quick glance at her face, I realized she wasn’t saying it to hurt me. She wasn’t smirking. There was no sense of satisfaction in her expression after driving that metaphorical dagger deep into my heart. She simply made a statement about her future, and I didn’t appear to be in her vision of it. When she said she was confused and couldn’t make up her mind, she meant it. It seemed she’d made a decision and was sticking to it.
The life I’d envisioned for us was no longer in question. It was over and done.
“Well, once Lorenzo is out of the picture, you won’t need around-the-clock protection. You may not need protection at all by then. Let’s just get through one day at a time without incident.”
My monotone reply couldn’t be helped. At one time in our relationship, I’d warned her I’d never let her go, but that turned out to be not so true. As much as I wanted to rail against it, to shake some sense into her, I finally had to face the reality that she didn’t want to be with me. That my family might be irreparably damaged. That there would never be more than what we were at that moment.
Parents of an unborn baby who weren’t destined to be together.
I loved her enough to want her to be happy, regardless of what that meant for me. That didn’t mean I had to be happy about it. And I wasn’t. I just fucking wasn’t.
“What? No clever warning of how I belong to you and I’ll realize that all too soon?” The teasing tone of her voice matched the coy smile that brightened her face, but I kept my eyes on the road.
“No, Jillian. Not today.”
The sobering thought of another man eventually taking up residence with the woman I loved and the child growing inside her hit me at full force. The last thing I felt like doing was smiling or laughing. The worst fucking part was I only had myself to blame for it.
“Damon.” She said my name on a soft whisper, a hint of an apology lingering in the air.
But I wasn’t ready to hear those words from her. I couldn’t sit there and listen to her tell me she tried to move past it, how she wanted to love me again but just couldn’t bring herself to actually do it. Even though I could see it in her actions, hear it in her voice, and feel it in the air, hearing the actual words would be my undoing.
“Here we are. Let me check our surroundings first. I’ll get the door for you when it’s safe to get out of the car.”
Never had I faced anything like what I felt in that moment. I could’ve been in a foreign country, with no friends and no understanding of the native language, for as much as I knew about the next steps I should take. The only me I knew would’ve coerced her in some way until she gave in—bribes, threats, kidnapping—whatever it took. The new me, the man I didn’t even recognize—still wanted her to choose to be with me, to want to be mine. But he was preparing to let her go for good…to admit, after exhausting all means, he was defeated and there was nothing left to fight for, no matter how much it fucking killed him.
For the sake of Jillian’s happiness, I finally understood I had to let her go, regardless of how much I loved her. Holding on to her, trying to keep hope alive, and trying to elbow my way back into her heart hadn’t done either of us any favors up to that point. My choices pushed us to the breaking point, and I’d been a selfish asshole long enough.
Strange how a few minutes and a short conversation could change everything I thought I knew, who I thought I was.
The idea of getting advice from my old man crossed my mind, but as far as I knew, he and Mama never had a single doubt they’d be together forever. Because of that, I wasn’t convinced taking advice from him on the matter was the best course of action. Maybe inaction was the only course I had left. Don’t do anything. Don’t try anything. Don’t force anything.
Just let it be whatever it was.
When everything was said and done with Lorenzo, I’d check out of Jillian’s life. I’d be the best father any kid ever had, but I’d do it without her by my side.
Every ounce of me revolted against that decision. Every fiber of my being said to man up and be a fucking Marchetti. Take control. Don’t back down. See it through until the bitter end, just like I’d done my whole damn life. If some fucker tried to move in on her, he’d wish he’d never been born.
But that would only hurt her more. And if I’d vowed to never let anyone hurt her, that promise had to include me.
After a thorough scan of the cars and people in our immediate area, I opened the car door to help her out. The rueful gleam in her eye when she stood and faced me only strengthened my resolve. I wouldn’t accept pity from any-fucking-body. Not even her.
“Let’s get you inside while I’m reasonably sure the coast is clear. We don’t want to push our luck more than we absolutely have to right now.”
With my hand on her lower back, I steered her away from the parking lot, toward the front door of the two-story doctor’s office building. She cast several sidelong glances at me as we walked the short distance down the sidewalk, but my refusal to acknowledge them coupled with my hypervigilant surveillance around us prevented her from speaking. Once inside the building, I relaxed somewhat and removed my hand from her back, knowing Lorenzo would never attack inside the doctor’s office that many wives of made men used. He wouldn’t make it ten feet outside the door before every faction in the Tri-State area had mowed him down.
We sat quietly while she filled out the new patient paperwork, then only made small talk now and then when something interesting flashed on the television. The invisible wall between us went up one brick at a time, but we both felt it.
“Jillian Hart,” the nurse called from th
e doorway.
Jillian stood, but I remained planted in my seat. She looked down at me, confusion, shock, and maybe a small wave of pain crossing her face. “Are you not coming back with me?”
“If you want me to come back with you, I will. If not, I’ll stay here and give you some privacy.”
“Damon, I’d like for you to be there with me. It’s important to me.”
“In that case, I’ll be right beside you.”
Inside the exam room, I moved from poster to poster to study the stages of fetal development while Jillian changed into the hospital gown. Memorizing every detail from conception to birth, I pictured how big our baby was at nearly four months. Only six inches long…less than the length from the tip of my middle finger to my wrist. By the time I’d started to make my second round, anything to delay the inevitable conversation, the doctor rushed through the door with Jillian’s chart in hand.
“Hello. How are Mom and Dad doing today?” He was an older man, closer to my father’s age, balding with white hair wrapping around the lower part of his head. He extended his hand to shake mine first. “Daryl Bowers. Good to meet you.”
“We’re fine,” Jillian answered with a smile.
He took her hand in both of his and gave her a warm welcome. “According to your records from your doctor down in Louisiana, you’re around four months now. Does that sound right?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Perfect time to see if we can hear the baby’s heartbeat on the Doppler. Just lie back there, and let’s see if the baby wants to cooperate with us today.”
After spreading a blob of gel on her exposed belly, he began to move the wand across her skin, seemingly ignoring all the sounds from the speaker that I thought were important. Then he stopped and homed in on a specific area when he apparently recognized what he’d been searching for.
“Hear that?” he asked, smiling at Jillian. All I heard was something that sounded like horses galloping…but underwater. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
He turned up the volume, the fast beat of my baby’s heart filled the room, and the haze in my brain cleared. The unmistakable sound of a rapid heartbeat permeated my soul. Fast. Strong. Beautiful. When it began to fade, he moved the wand to find the right spot again. Then his brows drew downward, and he cocked his head to the side, listening intently.
He turned to his nurse. “Chelle, I’d like to get her to the ultrasound room. Can you go make sure Pat is ready for us?”
Dr. Bowers slipped the Doppler into his coat pocket then extended his hand to Jillian, helping her sit up on the exam table. “Let’s go into the ultrasound room and let Pat, our sonogram technician, take a look at the baby.”
“Is something wrong? What’s going on with our baby?” I stepped closer to Jillian and took her hand in mine as she stood.
“Come with me. I’ll be able to explain everything in just a minute.”
We followed him to a smaller room. An exam table sat at the far end, against the wall. Beside it was the ultrasound machine and a large monitor where the sonogram technician waited for us. After Jillian was comfortable on the table and more gel had been spread across her stomach, Pat moved the larger wand into place low on Jillian’s abdomen.
Then she looked up at the doctor…and they smiled at each other.
“Well, Jillian, congratulations. You’re having twins.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jillian
“What? What did you just say?”
There was no way I heard him correctly.
Pat chuckled, no doubt that wasn’t the first time she’d heard disbelief and sheer panic at the same time. “There are two distinct fetuses. Two distinct hearts. Two of everything. Congratulations!”
In my stunned state, I couldn’t reply. I looked back and forth from Dr. Bowers to Pat several times, waiting for them to laugh and say they were only kidding. But they didn’t. Then I turned my gaze to the flat screen that had captured Damon’s attention and stared at the grainy black-and-white images for several seconds. I began to make out the shapes. Though they were small, there were definitely two separate bodies moving inside me.
Tears sprang to my eyes—tears of joy, elation, confusion, terror. Sheer and utter happiness. My only regret was that my mother wasn’t there to experience the miracle with me.
Damon moved closer to Pat, completely oblivious to anyone else in the small room, and lifted his hand to the screen. His fingers traced the clear outlines of both our babies with an expression of complete awe and wonder on his face. His lips moved, but I didn’t hear any audible words. He was talking to our babies, making his silent oath to them. He stood rooted to his spot for several seconds after he dropped his hand at his side. Then he nodded, his silent decree set in Marchetti stone.
When he turned to face me, the determined man I first met had returned in full force. Any doubts or second thoughts I’d sensed on the ride over were gone. The cool, steely exterior of the deadly hit man inside him was back. His eyes dropped from mine to my stomach, and I knew his primary focus had shifted from me to the twins I carried. The Marchetti bloodline lived inside me, and Damon would uphold the code of family honor that had driven him his entire life by protecting them at any cost.
“Do you have a history of twins in your family?” Damon stepped closer to me, his eyes sliding up my body until they once again locked on to mine.
“No, none. This is the first set of twins on my side.”
“There’s always a first for everything,” Dr. Bowers interjected. “Family history isn’t always a clear indicator.”
The trepidation in my eyes must have been painfully obvious. Damon ran his fingers along my jawline then gently held my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t be scared, doll. Our babies will be perfect, just like you.”
Dr. Bowers chatted with Pat for a few minutes as she printed out multiple sonogram pictures. I couldn’t stop staring at the monitor, watching the tiny, active babies inside me.
“When will I start to feel them moving?”
“You’ll begin to feel it anytime now. It’s usually around the sixteen-week mark. It’ll feel like little flutters low in your abdomen,” Dr. Bowers said. “Then before you know it, you’ll feel kicks and full somersaults.”
The doctor and technician finished printing pictures and left the room so I could get dressed in private. Chelle waited outside the door until we emerged and escorted us to Dr. Bowers’s office. We sat in shocked silence and waited for him to join us. Actually, I was stunned silent, but I could see the wheels in Damon’s mind turning at lightning speed. Whatever plan he was formulating had his full attention.
When Dr. Bowers joined us, he handed me a thick book on what I could expect from being pregnant with twins and an envelope with copies of the sonogram pictures. While I would’ve loved for my mother to be the first person other than Damon and me to see them, I couldn’t wait to show Mama Lina. Though I could barely focus on the doctor’s words, I wanted to share everything he said about my care going forward and ask Mama Lina to help Damon and me navigate through the rest of my pregnancy.
If I thought having one newborn was scary, the thought of having two at once was absolutely terrifying.
Somehow, I managed to fumble my way through the rest of the appointment, gathering all the information I could about twin pregnancies and how it would be different. When Damon opened the car door for me, I stopped shy of sliding into the seat and lifted my eyes to his.
He’d avoided that connection for most of the ride to the doctor’s office and nearly all of the visit. But as we stood in the parking lot before leaving, his gaze didn’t falter.
“What are you thinking, Damon? What’s going on up here?” I lightly tapped his temple, then rested my palm against his cheek. Disappointment filled me when he didn’t lean into my touch, not ev
en slightly.
“I’m just trying to process everything you and the babies will need to be safe and comfortable. A nice gated house instead of an apartment in the city so we can install extra security measures. Hopefully, you’ll find something you like close to my parents and my sister, so they can help out at a moment’s notice until I can get there. Finding the right full-time nanny who can be ready to start as soon as they’re born so you can get plenty of rest.”
“Where will you be?”
“Never too far away.”
With that, he motioned for me to get into the car. I obeyed robotically, visions of the finest material things money could buy surrounding me, but no husband coming home to our children and me every night. No father in-house to help with midnight feedings and two a.m. diaper changes. No Damon in the bed beside me to hold me and help keep me safe through whatever storms came our way.
Suddenly, that house he suggested felt somewhat empty and alone without him there to share it with me. Joint custody meant one of us would miss a lot of important milestones in the babies’ lives, even something as simple as learning to roll over or sit up alone. In the short time it took him to walk around the car and slide behind the wheel, I’d already felt the loss of so many wonderful firsts we should experience together.
Weighed against the grudge I tried to hold on to, my personal vendetta to make him feel the pain I’d felt over the past four months began to feel petty and small. When I considered how my choices could impact our children their entire lives, guilt began to consume me.
My father was a huge part of my childhood. As a young child, I remembered looking forward to the time I spent with him every day. After he died, rushing to meet my father as he arrived home from work every day were some of the most bittersweet memories I had.
Warning, Part Two (The Vault) Page 10