by Selena Kitt
I glanced back at him and smiled. “Fine.”
“You look pale,” Nico said. He was behind me, on my other side, watching the game. In the other room, the baby cried, and the pain in my middle increased as if in response. I gasped, my hand instinctively moving to cover my lower belly. The cramping, which had been dull and constant, suddenly became a sharp, stabbing thing.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mason again.
I struggled for breath to speak. The pain had taken it. “I don’t know.”
“What is it?” Nico turned me to face him, frowning.
Everyone was looking now. Even Mama Dorotea, who had heard the concern in her son’s voice, had appeared in the kitchen doorway, a turkey baster in her hand. In the next room, I heard the baby crying in earnest now. Probably hungry, I thought, remembering how my breasts had ached after Isabella was born, making milk for a baby who would never eat.
“I’m just a little dizzy,” I managed to whisper, but the room was receding, going black at the edges, and I knew it was more than that. Something was suddenly very, very wrong.
The last thing I remembered was Mason and Nico kneeling over me, the sound of a baby crying far away, and me, speaking my daughter’s name like a prayer.
* * * *
“What happened?” I croaked, opening my eyes to the same sight—Mason on one side, Nico on the other. This time they each occupied a rail, leaning over to look at me in the hospital bed. I knew I must have fainted—I remembered that much. And the pain, the sharp, stabbing, searing pain in my belly. That was gone now.
“There’s my bella.” Nico smiled, brushing hair out of my face.
Mason, not to be outdone, leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Hey beautiful.”
“What happened?” I asked again, swallowing hard. My throat hurt. Why did my throat hurt? “Can I have some water?”
They both reached for it at the same time, but the Styrofoam cup was on Mason’s side. He held it for me while I sucked on the straw, peering at them over the lip of the cup.
“You’re going to be all right,” Nico soothed. He spoke softly in Italian, smoothing my hair, picking up where Mason had left off.
“English, please,” Mason insisted, glaring at him as he put the water back on the table. “Dani, you had to have an operation.”
“What?” I half sat, looking around the room. There was another bed, but no occupant. No nurse or doctor was in the room. “What kind of operation?”
“Your womb,” Nico said, speaking English. “She was damaged.”
I looked at Mason, wide-eyed, feeling my limbs turn to ice. “What is he talking about?”
“It was your IUD.” Mason swallowed, glancing toward the door, probably hoping a nurse or someone else would come in and tell me the rest. Dear God, what was the rest? Did I want to know? I could already imagine. I’d gotten the intrauterine device right after we’d lost Isabella. Mason and I had fought long and hard about it. He didn’t want to use any birth control—he desperately wanted another baby. I remembered telling him, “Babies aren’t like light bulbs. You can’t just go out and replace them.” I’d won that argument.
“Wait…” I looked between them, up on my elbows, wearing just a hospital gown, a thin sheet as cover. I was afraid to look beneath it. I couldn’t feel much of anything, but I was woozy. They’d probably pumped me full of pain meds. “No. Please tell me…” I swallowed, the thought so beyond comprehension I almost couldn’t speak it. “Please tell me it’s not gone. I’ll… will I still be able to have children?”
Mason looked at me, surprised. “Do you want to?”
“I…” I blinked back tears. “I don’t know. What difference does it make?”
Mason shrugged. “I just… I just remembered you saying, after Isabella…”
“Your IUD perforated the uterus,” Nico interrupted. “You had internal bleeding.”
“You lost a great deal of blood,” Mason reiterated. “That’s why you fainted.”
“So did they take it?” My voice was choked, hoarse.
“No, no,” Nico assured me, clasping my hand. Mason took the other one. “They stopped the bleeding and repaired it.”
I sat back, shaking in relief, so surprised at my own reaction I could barely speak.
“How long do I have to stay here?” I glanced around at the white walls, the curtain half-pulled around the bed.
Mason looked at Nico. “The doctor said until tomorrow.”
“But you can’t go back to your place,” Nico chimed in. I stared at him. “You can’t be alone. You need someone to be with you for at least a week.”
“So you’re coming home with us.”
“With you?”
Nico nodded, leaning over and kissing my cheek. “We’ll take good care of you.”
* * * *
“My bedroom’s near the bathroom,” Mason said, unlocking the apartment door.
“Mine’s by the kitchen,” Nico countered.
“My bed’s easier to get in and out of.”
“Mine’s bigger.”
“Mine—”
“Oh for god’s sake, I’ll sleep on the couch!” I cried, plopping down on it and pulling a blanket over my head. “I’m glad the furniture finally arrived!”
“Now see what you did?” Mason sighed.
“Me?” Nico scoffed. “You started it.”
“Are you two-year-olds?” I pulled the blanket down, rolling my eyes. “Keep it up and I’m going back to my place, no matter what the doctor said.”
Jezebel came wandering out of the kitchen. She perked up upon seeing me, leaping onto the arm of the sofa beside me and swishing her tail. I petted her head and she purred.
“Thank you for taking care of her.”
“Of course.” Mason smiled. “And you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“Let’s not start this again. The couch will be fine.”
“Are you hungry?” Nico asked. “I made soup.”
I smiled at him. “Starving.”
We all sat on the couch and watched a marathon of La Piovra—Italy’s version of The Godfather as a television series—and ate soup. Even Jezebel came to lick the remains out of my bowl. I found myself dozing off, leaning first on Mason’s shoulder, then adjusting to lean against Nico’s. Both men cradled me, petted me, rubbing my head or my feet.
“Sleepy bella.” Nico kissed my cheek. “We should let her rest.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
“But it’s early yet,” I protested, glancing at the clock—only seven!
“Your body needs to heal,” Mason insisted.
“And you do that best while you’re sleeping.”
I smiled. “Tag-teamed.”
They glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” I flushed. “You’re very, very bad men and I hate you both.”
They kissed me goodnight, each of them. They both tasted like chicken noodle soup, but I savored the difference in the press of their mouths, the way Mason’s lips parted a little, how Nico breathed me in with his kiss.
“Goodnight, Dani,” Mason whispered.
“Goodnight, bella,” Nico echoed.
I smiled, but I was so tired, I barely got the word out before I drifted off. “’Night.”
* * * *
The boat rocked back and forth and I clung to the sides, my knuckles white. The heat was close, blazing. My face was so hot it felt blistered. Ahead of me a hooded figure steered the gondola on a river of lava and I wondered if this was the River Styx. Was I dead? Was this death?
My first thought was Isabella. Would I see her again? What was past the barrier ahead?
A bony finger rose from the robe, pointing, and the boat came to a shaky stop. The river diverged into a V here, the rocky walls rising around us reflecting the orange heat of the lava below.
I had to choose.
I can’t.
I shook my head, refused. The bony finger rose
again. Choose.
No, no, no. Don’t make me. Please don’t make me choose. I begged.
The finger dropped and the figure was still. Relieved, I sat back in the boat, closing my eyes. It was out of my hands. Whichever way we went, I wasn’t responsible.
The boat rocked hard and I jolted up. The gondola tilted so far to one side scalding lava began to seep over the edge. Then the other. The figure was going to tip the boat! I was going to be thrown in!
“No!” I cried, but the words were useless.
The boat flooded with fiery liquid and reached its tipping point, throwing me into a broiling hell of fire. I screamed, trying to swim in the searing heat, seeing the figure right the gondola, standing again at the edge and beginning to steer away.
I swam in the sweltering heat. Impossible. Why hadn’t I melted into nothing? I was on fire, but the heat was white-hot, like needles, tiny knives, and I shivered in response. I was drowning in fire like ice, the pain making my whole body ache.
“Dani!”
I turned toward the sound of my name. Mason! Was he coming for me?
“Bella! Wake up!” Nico, calling me.
Choose. The figure was back, standing over me, floating above the river of pain. Choose.
“No!” I thrashed on the couch, feeling hands holding me down. “Cold,” I muttered, shivering. I thought I’d kicked my blankets off, but no, there they were, tangled around my waist. Both men were standing over me in their boxer shorts. Had I called out?
Mason’s hand on my forehead. “Oh Jesus Christ, she’s burning up.”
“Get her to the bed,” Nico ordered.
“Whose?”
“I don’t care!”
Mason carried me, the blankets dragging behind him. His bed was soft, the down comforter warm, but still I shivered. I couldn’t stop.
“Keep me warm,” I begged, reaching for Mason. He slid into bed beside me, glancing at Nico, and I called for him, too. “Please, Nico. Please.” And he came as well, snuggled behind me, both of them putting their arms around me, a cocoon.
But even the heat from their bodies didn’t help. Still, I shivered, my teeth chattering, even though they pulled the down-filled covers up to my chin, both of them smoothing my hair. I tried to sleep and I think I did, but I woke whimpering, feeling myself slipping into nothing, grasping for something to hold onto. Mason was there to hold me, Nico right behind.
“I’m so cold,” I complained, burying my face in Mason’s chest, feeling Nico’s arms around me. I slept again, this time dreaming of hell, my own private version where Satan forced me into impossible choices over and over.
“What’s wrong with me?” I woke up as Nico brought a thermometer, putting it under my tongue.
“Shhh.” He soothed, looking over at Mason. “I think it’s just a little bit of fever.”
“Little my ass.” Mason took the thermometer out as it beeped. “It’s… forty? What the hell does that mean?”
Nico paled. “We need to call the doctor. That’s about… a hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit.”
“Hello, I need to speak to Dr. Selvaggi.” Mason was on the phone before Nico even finished his sentence. “Dr. Selvaggi please,” he repeated louder. “I need to speak to Dr. Selvaggi right now!”
Even I could hear the string of Italian coming from the receiver, which I knew was completely unintelligible to Mason.
Nico grabbed the phone, speaking fluent Italian. “Dr. Selvaggi’s patient, Danielle Stuart, has a fever and I suspect she has an infection.” He paused, listening. “Forty.” He sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
Mason re-appeared with a cool cloth, resting it on my forehead. It felt good, but I was still so cold! Nico talked to the doctor as Mason wiped my face and neck with the washcloth, whispering my name, kissing my cheek.
“What did he say?” Mason asked when Nico hung up the phone.
“He’s going to prescribe antibiotics,” Nico told him, switching back to English. “But he wants to see her on Monday.”
I groaned. “No more doctors!”
“He also said we have to get her fever down.”
Mason nodded. “Do you have aspirin?”
“Bring her into the bathroom.” Nico was already heading out of the room.
“Can’t you just go get it?” Mason called.
“We need to get her into the tub.”
“What?” I protested, but Mason carried me and Nico ran the water. They undressed me like a child, fed me aspirins, and helped me to the tub.
I screamed, thrashing in the water, trying to escape.
“It’s freezing!”
“Keep her in.” Nico’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I have to get ice.”
My teeth chattered so much, the noise in my head so loud, I could barely hear Mason’s words as he grabbed my limbs, pushing me back in, something about holding still and being for my own good.
“Do we really have to do this?” Mason panted when Nico brought a bowl full of ice cubes into the bathroom.
“The doctor said to.” Nico looked at me, his face pained. “If her fever gets much higher, she may start to have seizures. It could cause brain injury.”
“Christ.” Mason winced as Nico poured the ice in and I screamed again.
“Please,” I begged them both, my eyes wild, so cold I couldn’t feel my fingers where my nails dug into Mason’s forearm. “Oh god, please, stop. Please!”
Nico’s voice was hoarse. “I have to get more.”
I sobbed, clinging to Mason, and then to Nico, when the freezer was empty of ice. They took turns soothing me, both men working to cool my feverish body as I writhed in the tub, begging for it to end.
Nico took my temperature, although I was shivering so much I could barely keep the thermometer between my chattering teeth.
“What is it?” Mason asked, his jaw tight.
Nico’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Better. Let’s get her to bed.”
A fluffy towel and four rough hands later, I was dry. One of Mason’s t-shirts—it smelled comfortingly like him—went over my head and this time Nico carried me back to the bed.
“I’m so sorry,” Nico whispered into my ear in Italian, kissing my cheek, my temple, as he pulled the covers up to my chin. “Hang on, bella. I love you.”
“Just don’t leave me.” I put my arms around his neck and hung on.
The doorbell rang and Mason and Nico exchanged glances.
“It’s the pharmacy,” Nico said.
Mason was already heading toward the door.
And then there were more pills, two huge ones, big enough to gag a horse. I choked and spit water all down the front of me, wetting the t-shirt. Mason pulled it off and just covered me with the down-filled blanket again.
“Now what?” Mason sat next to me on the bed.
“We wait. We pray. We hope.” Nico was on my other side, his cool hand pressed against my forehead.
Mason snorted. “Isn’t there something a little more proactive we can do?”
“There’s nothing but this.” Nico spooned me, his arm around my waist.
“I’m still cold.” I opened my eyes, seeing Mason looking at us, his expression unreadable. I reached for him, feeling desperate. “Please.”
He came to bed, his breath warm on my cheek, his hand on my hip.
“Closer,” I whispered, and he obliged. They both did, enveloping me, and I finally relaxed, this time falling into a dreamless, peaceful sleep with no fire, no ice.
Chapter Seven
Dear Carrie and Doc,
I need your advice. Nico and Mason are competing for me all the time. I think they’ve decided to live together—they’re roommates now, at least for the time Mason is staying—just to drive me crazy. And to make sure they can both keep tabs on what I’m doing, of course. I feel so caught between the two of them and I don’t know what to do.
Tell me. Please tell me what to do, who to choose. I’m at a loss. I don’t trust my own compass or judgment, e
specially since it’s telling me that I want them both. That can’t be right. Something in me must be broken, off. I know this shouldn’t be so hard, but every time I imagine leaving one of them for the other, I become paralyzed.
And it’s not about hurting them, although I know I would hurt one if I chose the other. It’s about me. I feel as if I’m connected to both of them in a very deep, profound way, and I’m not sure I am even capable of making such a difficult choice.
But I trust you both. I love you. And I know you want what’s best for me. So I’m asking you, as your former lover and best friend, please, just tell me what to do. Whatever it is, I promise you, I swear to Nico’s God and everything that is sacred in the world, that I will do it.
Just please, tell me which one to choose.
* * * *
The doctor poked and prodded and confirmed that I had indeed developed an infection. The antibiotics were working, however—my fever was gone and I felt lighter already. There was no pain, and I’d inspected the incision sites. They’d done the surgery laproscopically, just four small cuts in my abdomen that were healing nicely. I’d have some scars on my belly to go with the stretch marks from Isabella, but considering that they’d saved my uterus, somehow I didn’t mind so much.
The boys were in the lobby—I’d refused to let them follow me in, much to their chagrin. I took the opportunity to ask the doctor, “So about sex…?”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Any time you’re feeling up to it.”
“Really?” I wasn’t sure if I was hoping for a yes or a no, but leaving it up to me? That wasn’t fair. I had enough choices to make, didn’t I?
He assured me that it was perfectly safe, although I was glad Mason and Nico didn’t hear him say so. He told me to continue to take it easy. I’d been anemic when I was admitted to the hospital, and although they were supplementing my iron and had given me a transfusion, he was concerned about fainting spells.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I assured him, going out to find Nico and Mason talking in the lobby. They were laughing and the sight of something other than a scowl on either of their faces when they were together shocked me.
“Ready to go?” Nico looked up as I approached. I nodded, and Mason stood, taking my hand.