Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“You do?”
“Sure.” She continued stroking my hair. “He’s young, but he’s dependable, compassionate, loyal . . .”
“Are we talking about the same Gianni Lupo who tormented me all those years? I’m pretty sure he beheaded at least one doll.”
My mom laughed. “I know he was a bit of a stinker growing up, but he was raised right, he works hard, and he has a good heart.”
“I guess.”
“And he’s always been sweetly protective of you.”
“Mom, stop.”
“He has, Ellie! Remember that time you fell in the driveway at their house and he carried you inside with two bloody knees? You two couldn’t have been more than five years old.”
I sat up and stared at her in the dark. “Wait a minute. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“I always thought the person who carried me inside was Uncle Nick, but Gianni says it was him.”
“It was Gianni.”
“Dammit. He was right.” I lay back again. “That’s so annoying.”
My mother laughed before leaning over and kissing my forehead. “Give him a chance, Ellie. I have a feeling you see the boy he was when you look at him, not the man he could be.”
“Because he hasn’t shown me the man he could be, Mom. Only the boy.”
“Keep watching him,” she said gently. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Night.”
She pulled the door shut behind her and left me alone in the dark, wondering if there was a chance I was wrong about Gianni Lupo after all.
TWENTY-ONE
GIANNI
Every morning that week, I brought her breakfast.
I’d stop at the bakery on my way into work and then bring them to the tasting room on my way to the kitchen—of course, it wasn’t really on the way, but it gave me the chance to see her before work and ask how she was feeling.
“The same,” she’d say. “Tired, but okay.”
On the Monday morning after we’d told my parents, she wasn’t in the tasting room. For a moment, I panicked that something was wrong, and I pulled out my phone to text her. While I was typing a frantic message, she breezed in behind me.
“Morning,” she said.
“Morning.” I looked at her with concern, but she looked perfectly beautiful—glowing and rested, much better than last week. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I slept in a little.”
“Oh.” The tension in my shoulders eased. “I was worried. You’re usually down here by ten o’clock.”
She smiled. “I’m okay.”
I set the bakery bag on the counter. “Hungry?”
“Yes, thank you. But you don’t need to feed me, you know.”
“I like feeding you.” I shrugged. “It’s kind of my thing.”
She opened the bag and eagerly bit into a pastry. “Mmm. Actually, I’m glad you’re here. My ultrasound appointment is tomorrow. Do you still want to go?”
“Yes. What time?”
She swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Nine forty-five a.m. The office is in town, so I can just meet you there.”
“No, I’ll pick you up,” I said.
“Gianni, that’s silly. It’s out of your way.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll be here at nine. Is that early enough?”
She sighed. “That’s fine. Come to the kitchen door.”
“Okay.” I left the tasting room with a stupid grin on my face. I wasn’t even sure what an ultrasound was, but knowing Ellie wanted me there, or at least that she didn’t mind my being there, felt like a win.
Of course, once I was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, I felt like it was the last place I belonged.
There were no other guys there, and the walls were covered with all this women’s stuff about breastfeeding and hormones and birth control. I absentmindedly picked up a pamphlet with a young girl on the front from the table next to me, and when I opened it up, there was this horrifyingly lifelike drawing of female anatomy staring me right in the face. At the top it said GET TO KNOW YOUR VAGINA. I slammed it shut and put it down.
In the chair next to me, Ellie snickered. “Um, you’ve been up close and personal with those bits and pieces.”
“I know,” I said, squirming in my seat. “I just never looked that close. And I’m not sure I need to know what everything is actually called.”
She laughed again. “Relax. You won’t have to see anything today. I’ll be under a sheet.”
I wanted to tell her I wouldn’t mind seeing her bits and pieces—or being up close and personal with them—but it didn’t seem like the right time.
I chose a safer topic. “Hey, did you tell your brothers about the baby?”
“My mom did.” She shrugged. “I don’t think they cared much. Did you tell your siblings?”
“I texted them. My sister was really excited. One brother replied with dude, and the other with fuck in all caps. Several U’s.”
“Sounds about right.”
I glanced down at her feet. “How’s your ankle?”
She laughed. “Swollen, but I can’t blame the fall. Just the baby.”
“It doesn’t hurt anymore?”
“No.” She was quiet a moment. “Have you talked to your dad yet?”