Blood Always

by Ramsower, Jill

  As I poured myself yet another scotch, attempting to drown out the incessant thoughts in my head, I wondered why she would even consider such a thing. I wasn’t necessarily against abortion. I understood that there were women in shitty circumstances who shouldn’t be forced to bring a child into the world, but that was a far cry from our situation. In fact, I couldn’t come up with a single reason to justify aborting our baby.

  It made me blind with rage. I wrenched my arm back and hurled my glass against the wall, sending shards of Waterford crystal scattering across the wood floor of my office.

  “Jesus, what’s up with you?” Filip propped his shoulder against the door frame and stared at me as if I were wearing a dress and dancing the merengue.

  I needed to take away the asshole’s key to my house. “You ever heard of knocking?”

  “I never knock when I come over.”

  “Well, dipshit, I’m married now. Knock next time.”

  “Fine. Is that why you called me over here? To chew my ass out?”

  “I need you to tail Maria—make sure she’s safe and let me know where she goes.” I was about ninety-five percent certain she wouldn’t abort the baby without my consent, but that five percent was weighing on me.

  The humor slipped from his face. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about. Just find her and keep watch.”

  “You don’t know where she is?” he gaped, finally coming off the wall.

  My lungs deflated with a heavy sigh. “No, I don’t. I’m guessing she’s gone back to the city. Check both our places. I doubt she’ll be hiding.”

  “Sounds like you fucked up.”

  “Go!” I yelled, losing patience with my shit-for-brains brother.

  “All right, all right.” He lifted his hands in surrender and disappeared around the corner, just as my phone began to ring.

  What the fuck now?

  Venturi. Perfect. He’d have news to distract me.

  “Yeah,” I barked.

  “Everything’s been set up, just wanted to get your final say before kicking things into motion.”

  “Do it.” I ended the call, feeling a small amount of satisfaction soothe my agitated nerves.

  My business affairs were in order. Now, I just had to deal with my catastrophe of a marriage.

  Chapter 17

  Maria

  It had been one week since I left the Hamptons, and I hadn’t spoken a word to Matteo. He didn’t try to reach out, and I was still too terrified and embarrassed to face him. At least I was able to breathe again. I’d spent the first four days at my unsold apartment in my bed binge watching shows to keep my mind far away from my problems.

  I was reminded of my condition each morning with wave after wave of nausea. Days one through four were ugly, dark days. Corrosive, caustic days. Days I wanted to bury in the graveyard of my subconscious. Day five, I managed to shower away the layer of grease that coated my body. Day six, I got dressed and took a short walk to the park not far from my apartment. Today was day seven.

  I debated all day whether I would attempt to join my family for their weekly dinner. I probably should have made yet another excuse and stayed away, but I didn’t. I had never sought out my parents for comfort before, but that’s what I was doing when I pulled up at their Staten Island home that evening. No matter how difficult my childhood. No matter how much I pushed my family away. There was still something reassuring about going home. And I needed reassurance more than I ever had before.

  “Maria! I’m so glad you could make it. What happened to Matteo? He working on a Sunday?” My mother greeted me with a pat on the back, long ago trained not to hug me.

  “Yeah, he had a lot going on. He wanted me to make sure I told you guys how sorry he was that he couldn’t make it.”

  “Next time. At least I get to have all my girls with me—you know how happy that makes me.”

  I gave her a half-hearted smile, the best I could muster, and joined my father in the dining room while my mother scurried back into the kitchen.

  “Maria,” he said in greeting. “I’m glad you got here a few minutes early. I wanted to see what you knew about Angelo.”

  “What about Angelo?”

  My father’s head cocked to the side. “Didn’t Matteo tell you Angelo was killed?”

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. Normally, I was difficult to rattle, but under a mountain of stress and in the safety of my old home, I floundered. “Um … no. I guess he didn’t have a chance. What happened?”

  Waves of suspicion wafted off him. “Car bomb in California. Guess he was there trying to set up new business with the West Coast and pissed off the wrong people. It happened three days ago. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  My father wouldn’t necessarily care that I was currently estranged from Matteo, but I still didn’t want him to know. That was private. Personal. And there was no way I was explaining why we’d spent the week apart.

  “I wasn’t feeling great this week, and he was super busy—probably handling the Angelo fallout. Guess he didn’t want to burden me with it. I’m not a Gallo anyway, so it’s not really my business.” I was so concentrated on covering up my marital issues, I hardly had time to process that the Gallo boss was dead. That meant Matteo would become the boss. Maybe he already was, and I had no idea.

  I wanted to scream and pull at my hair in frustration. How could I have fucked up so badly?

  As if I had to ask.

  My life was one big fuck-up after another. Shaking my head, I reached for the open bottle of wine on the table and poured myself a glass. I’d heard a single glass of wine when pregnant was allowable, and even if I was wrong, I’d just add it to the never-ending list of my fuck-ups. What was one more grain of sand on the beach?

  While I pondered my impressive ability to make my own life more difficult, the front door opened and closed. Voices filled the entry as both Alessia and Sofia entered with their men.

  Thank God for distractions.

  I stood from my chair and greeted everyone as they filtered in. Without Matteo there to add an element of tension, the room stayed relaxed and familiar as we all took our seats, and Mom brought in the serving dishes.

  The pungent smell of her shrimp pasta dish invaded my senses like a tsunami hitting the coast. My stomach revolted. I clamped my jaw down, rapidly swallowing the pool of saliva gathering in my mouth. Taking my water glass in a shaking hand, I sipped the cold liquid, willing the seafood smell to dissipate and my insides to stay put.

  I was so intent on my efforts to calm my mutinous stomach that I missed an entire conversation, not able to tune in until the subject landed on Sofia’s upcoming wedding. The prospect of attending yet another family gathering sent my gut into a tailspin—one I could no longer control.

  I swiftly rose, excusing myself, and made my way to the hall bathroom as quickly as I could manage without raising suspicions. As if vomiting wasn’t undignified enough, trying to do so with as little noise as possible made the task downright obscene. I lowered my head practically inside the toilet bowl and wretched for a solid three minutes.

  Once I got myself under control, I made my way back on shaky legs and reached for a piece of bread as soon as I sat down.

  “You okay?” asked Sofia quietly from her chair next to mine.

  “Yeah, of course. Just ate something funny last night, and my stomach still isn’t right.”

  She gave me a tight smile rife with concern and a touch of disbelief but didn’t press the matter.

  The one good thing that came from my purge—I completely missed the wedding discussion. By the time I got back, the group had moved on to the subject of a honeymoon.

  “What about you, Maria? You two thought about going on a little getaway now that you’re married?” Alessia asked. It was a simple question. She never could have known it would cause me pain, but my answer lodged in my throat with a thick ball of unshed tears.
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  What the fuck is happening to me?

  It had to be the hormones. I’d never in my life been an emotional wreck like I’d been this week. I felt like a body snatcher had hijacked my body and was testing its limits—seeing just how crazy it could make me. The truth in my analysis hit me, and my hand went involuntarily to my lower abdomen.

  In a way, a body snatcher had taken over.

  A tiny, innocent little being who had no control over what he or she was doing. All it had was me to protect and guide it, and I’d already failed miserably.

  I took in a steadying breath through my nose and turned to my sister. “I’m sure we will at some point. We just haven’t had a chance to plan anything yet.”

  “Maybe once winter kicks in, you can take a beach trip and get away from the freezing temps up here.”

  I nodded and smiled, taking a tiny sip from my wine glass and another nibble from my bread. Conversation continued on to new subjects, but I was stuck on what Alessia had said. Winter. If I’d gotten pregnant the night of our wedding, when would that mean the baby was due? May? Sometime in spring. My honeymoon would become a babymoon. I almost choked on the absurdity.

  I managed to avoid being the subject of attention for the next hour. It was surprising to find that being around others and distracting my mind with normalcy was tremendously helpful settling my anxiety. By the end of the evening, I was feeling almost human again.

  On my way to the bathroom for one more stop before my forty-five-minute drive home, Sofia snagged my hand and pulled me into Dad’s office.

  “Jeez, Sof, what are you doing?” I fussed as she quietly closed the door behind us.

  She held her finger up to her mouth, brows drawn tightly together. “Maria, are you pregnant?”

  Oh, shit. Why did she always have to be so goddamn observant?

  “No! I’m just out of sorts. Matteo and I had a bit of a fight, that’s all.”

  She crossed her arms, cocking out her hip with attitude. “You didn’t drink or eat hardly anything. I’m pretty sure you were throwing up in the bathroom. You turned green when Mom passed around the dessert and held your belly when Alessia asked about a honeymoon. If you had a stomach bug, you never would have come. And not once in all my life have I seen you get an upset stomach over being in a fight with someone. You live for that shit!” She unleashed her evidence in a hushed assault, battering down each of my defenses.

  When she finished, arms on her hips and eagle eyes glaring at me, I caved. Maybe I had needed someone to confide in. Maybe she was just that compelling. Either way, I unloaded everything—each ugly truth about the baby and how I’d told Matteo I wanted to get rid of it. Just recalling what I’d done sent fissures of pain through my chest.

  “Damn,” Sofia breathed, visibly deflating. “I have no clue what to say.”

  I huffed out a humorless laugh. “Me either. That’s why I’ve been avoiding him.” I met my sister’s gaze, feeling tears prick at my eyes. “I’m terrified of having a baby. And I know I said I wanted to abort it, but I never would have. You know that, right? You know I’d never do that.”

  “Oh, honey. Of course, you wouldn’t.” She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. “And even if you did, we’d still love you anyway,” she whispered with our cheeks pressed close together.

  My chest hiccupped with a sob I tried desperately to keep bottled up inside. It was no use. The emotions scratched and scraped to tear free of me. My breathing hitched and stuttered. Tears blurred my vision, and I clung tightly to my baby sister.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she crooned, one of her hands petting my hair as if I was a small child. It was fitting because that’s exactly how I felt. Tiny and terrified, desperate for someone to help me.

  “He’ll never forgive me. I’d never forgive me if I was him. What do I do, Sof?” The words tumbled out in a rush as anguish threatened to drag me under.

  Sofia pulled away, forcing me to meet her gaze with her firm hands gripping my shoulders. “There is nothing to forgive. You both were upset, but that’s the extent of it. You didn’t abort the baby. You didn’t hide the pregnancy. You were scared, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “You didn’t see the disgust in his eyes.” I’d never be able to wash the image from my brain.

  “If he can’t forgive you for something you said when you were at your lowest, then that’s one hundred percent his problem, not yours. You understand me?” When had little Sofia become so grown up? She pulled me back in for one last hug, as if she was four years older than me and not the other way around.

  “Thanks, Sof,” I said softly. “I’ve never been great at sharing, but I have to admit, it feels better knowing I’m not alone.”

  “You, me, and Alessia? We are never alone—we will always have each other. Always.”

  I nodded, accepting the tissue she handed me and wiping at my eyes.

  “Do what you need to do in the bathroom, and I’ll help you get out of here without any questions. And I promise I won’t say anything about the baby until you’re ready to announce it.”

  I gave her one more shaky smile and exited to the bathroom.

  The evening had its ups and downs, but I was leaving in far better shape than I’d arrived. It gave me the strength I needed to face reality and start to fix the damage I’d done.

  Chapter 18

  Matteo

  Filip had zero updates on Maria for a solid week. As far as he could tell, she had holed up in her apartment, but even that had been hard to prove. Last night, I finally got word that she’d gone to her parents’ house for Sunday dinner.

  The peace of mind from hearing she was safe allowed me to feel like I could attempt to work for the first time all week. I’d run a full gamut of emotions—one minute convinced our fight was all my fault, the next, adamant Maria was the one who needed to beg my forgiveness. But regardless of my thoughts about our fight, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming worry that Maria needed me.

  In all my years as a made man, I’d seen some sick shit. Men’s tongues cut out. Women beaten and raped. I couldn’t recall ever seeing someone look as broken and despondent as Maria did the day she told me about our baby. I’d been too upset over her words to register how desperately she was struggling. Every day since, the sight of her hollow stare played on repeat in my mind.

  I considered going after her. At some point I’d have to, but I’d been giving us both space to get our heads on straight. Forcing the issue before we were ready wasn’t going to help. Knowing she was functional again was pushing me that much closer to ending our little standoff.

  My workout on Monday morning was brutal. Punishing. It made me realize just how much guilt I was harboring over what had happened. There was anger, too, but enough guilt for me to recognize it was just as much my responsibility to fix things as it was hers.

  It was time to find my wife and bring her home.

  I showered and ate breakfast, making a couple necessary phone calls before grabbing my keys. When I walked across the front entry, a car parked in the driveway caught my eye. Not just any car. Maria’s car.

  I altered my course, taking a slow breath before opening the door. Maria froze, foot hovering over the top step, eyes wide with surprise. A handful of pounding heartbeats passed before either of us even blinked.

  “Hey,” Maria said, bridging the gap between us in a voice fraught with uncertainty.

  My emotions rioted in my chest. I wanted to sweep her in my arms and sink myself inside her, while also spanking her ass raw for what she’d done. Whether I was lusting after her, angry at her, or laughing at her odd sense of humor—all my reactions were extreme where she was concerned. I had no casual feelings toward Maria.

  The chaos in my head made it hard to know how to respond, so I went with my gut. I charged toward her, clasped her beautiful face in my hands and slammed my lips down on hers. The kiss wasn’t sensual or sweet—it was full of pain and relief and remorse. A simple press
of my lips upon hers, but a wealth of emotions passing between us.

  When I pulled back, her eyes assaulted me with questions.

  “Come inside. We have a lot to discuss.” My voice was ragged and raw, the same as my battered heart.

  I led her into the living area, and we both took seats on opposite ends of a sofa, leaving a gap between us for all the difficult words that needed to be said.

  “I never meant it,” she said softly, jumping straight into the heart of the matter. “I was terrified, and it was the only thing that promised to make it all go away. But I never would have gone through with it. I want you to know that.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, and it about broke me to see my brazen warrior so timid and scared.

  “You aren’t the only one who acted on emotion. My response was not at all what I would have liked, and I never should have let you leave.”

  “I’m a big girl. If I wanted to leave, you couldn’t have stopped me.” There it was. A tiny spark of her usually blazing fire.

  “Perhaps,” I smirked. “But the point is, we both have a lot to learn about being a couple. We can’t just lash out or take off when we’re upset. An hour breather is one thing, but I don’t want to say hurtful shit or wonder about your safety just because I get pissed.”

  “This was a pretty unique situation. I don’t think I’d get so upset for any other reason.” She had a volatile temperament, but I wasn’t going to point that out. It was beside the point.

  “Can you help me understand why the pregnancy was so upsetting?”

  Her chest rose steeply on a deep breath. “I just know I’m going to fuck it up—being a parent. It’s such a huge responsibility. There’s no way you can fully protect them from the world. I hate to even have a child if I can’t guarantee its happiness.”

  “You may not be able to keep them in a bubble, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be an amazing mother.”

  Her lips hinted at a smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I guess it’s irrelevant now. This baby is coming, whether I’m ready to be a mother or not.”