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And I won.
My doctor upped my medication a few times until we found a good, happy balance.
Carlo still insisted that she come for a home visit every few days, though.
So she did.
And to tell you the truth, it made me feel better to know someone was looking after me.
The baby was thriving.
And growing like mad.
I swear he grew before my eyes. But what else would you expect from a lumberjack’s kid?
“You had us all pretty fuckin’ scared for a while. I’ve never heard you swear like a sailor before.” Stefan looked at me and then back at the baby. He touched the baby’s hand and Marcello grabbed onto his finger.
“Yeah, well. I guess I could have handled things more gracefully.”
Stefan laughed right the heck out loud. “You could say that, woman. You bit all our heads off—many times. Not one of us wasn’t afraid of you.”
I shrugged and moved closer to him—but he immediately stood. “Why’d you do that? I just showered?” I asked, feeling a little offended that Stefan had moved away.
He rocked the baby and gazed at me. “I was given very specific instructions—not—to touch you. Or kiss you.” Stefan cleared his throat. “Or I’d get my ass thrown down the stairs again.”
Good grief.
These brothers.
At this point, I wasn’t sure they’d see eye to eye ever again.
“Do you remember how crazy protective Nick got after they brought Theo back? And Eve was pregnant?”
Stefan walked around with Marcello. “You weren’t pregnant when he threw me down the stairs. In fact, he was trying to get you and Stassia pregnant at that time.”
The mention of—her—name made my stomach twist over on itself.
She was one of the sticky subjects Carlo and I had yet to unpack.
I knew we’d have to do it, eventually. We couldn’t keep ignoring the many elephants in the room.
Sometimes this huge bedroom was so full of elephants, I couldn’t sleep.
“He was impossible to deal with back then. I don’t know where his head was at. But it was like he wasn’t—Carlo, anymore. You know?”
Stefan shook his head and frowned. “Oh, I know exactly where his head was at. Between two women’s thighs. Trying to knock them up.”
I took a deep breath and said something my therapist told me to say when things got to be too much. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can we change the subject, please?”
Stefan didn’t answer.
All he did was walk over to my side of the bed, carefully hand back my baby, and say, “He’s perfect.” His lips touched mine for a gentle kiss. “And I wish he was mine.”
With that, he moved back, gave me one more long look—and then turned around and left.
And he took all the air in the room with him.
11
