Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, choking back tears.
“Huh?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, my tone louder and sharper. I dumped the water into the dirt.
“Hey.” He took the empty glass from me and set it aside before taking me by the shoulders and forcing me to look at him. “What’s going on?”
I shook my head as the tears spilled over.
He understood without my saying a word, which somehow only made me cry harder. Pulling me to his chest, he wrapped his arms around me and held me while I wept into his sweaty gray shirt. His hands moved up and down my back. “Shh,” he said, kissing my head. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” I blubbered, getting snot and tears and mascara all over him. “I failed. Even on the drug, I failed.”
“That’s ridiculous. If anything, I failed.”
“It’s me, Enzo. You had the test, and you were fine. I’m the problem.”
“Hey.” He took me by the upper arms again and held me back so he could look at me. “This was one missed chance, that’s all. We get more, right?”
I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “One more.”
“Okay, so don’t give up. You know what they say, third time’s the charm.” His lips tipped up on one side. “Right?”
I bit my lip, wishing he wasn’t being so supportive and understanding about this. Wishing I didn’t have this terrible gut feeling that it didn’t matter how many chances we had, it wasn’t going to work. Wishing I didn’t have these feelings for him that were complicating everything.
“Right?” he urged again.
“Right.” I stepped away from him and grabbed a few tissues from the box on the counter. I blew my nose and mopped up my face while he sipped his coffee and looked at me like he felt sorry for me and didn’t know what to say.
It was fucking horrible. I didn’t want to be the object of his pity.
He cleared his throat. “I forgot to tell you, my nephew James’s fourth birthday party is tomorrow afternoon at Pietro’s house.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said without any enthusiasm at all. Moretti family functions were frequent, loud, and went on forever. And it never failed—at least three older female relatives would come over, put a hand on my belly, and ask if I was pregnant yet. When I said no, they’d ask why and caution me not to put it off too long. They’d insinuate that it was because we didn’t get married in church. And they all had a story about their cousin or friend or niece who thought she had all the time in the world and put her career first but was sorry later when she struggled to have children.
But Enzo didn’t need to hear about that.
“We can pick something up for James in town today,” I said, facing him again.
“Good idea. I was thinking of getting him a baseball glove and maybe a batting tee. He starts tee ball next month, and Pietro sucks at baseball, so I figure I better teach him.”
I managed a smile. “Of course.”
“You gonna be okay?” He moved closer to me and tugged on one earlobe.
“Yes.” I gestured toward his chest. “Sorry. I made a mess of your shirt.”
“Fuck my shirt. I’m a mess anyway. How about I shower up really quick and we hit the diner for breakfast?”
“Or maybe the bakery,” I suggested, thinking how good one of Blair’s pastries would taste this morning.
“You got it.”
While we were at the bakery, Enzo got a phone call he went outside to take, and Blair came over to the small table where I was sitting and dropped into his chair.
“What’s wrong?” she said, her face concerned. “And don’t say nothing because I can tell there’s something.”
“I got my period today,” I said quietly, picking up my coffee cup.
“Oh.” She nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I forced a smile. “We can try again next month. I’ll start another round of Clomid Monday.”
“Let me know if you need anything. An ear to rant into, a shoulder to cry on.”
“Thanks.” I took a deep breath and glanced outside at Enzo on the sidewalk. He was so damn handsome. “I cried all over Enzo this morning.”
“Yeah?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “How are things with you guys?”
“Good. They’re good.” I dropped my eyes to my uneaten scone and shrugged. “We’re picking up the keys to the new house today.”
Her face lit up. “That’s exciting! When will the renovation begin?”
“Right away, I hope.” I broke off a piece of the scone but didn’t eat it. “I could use the distraction. I think we both could.”
“Was Enzo sad about the . . .”
“Yes,” I said. “But he’s been really sweet.”
“Of course he has. He’s not an asshole. And he genuinely cares about you, Bianca. No matter what you think.”
The knots in my stomach pulled tighter. “We’re actually getting along much better than I thought we would.”