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Once we were inside, I very carefully lay Nicco down in Marcello’s crib.
Marcello barely flinched. He was a deep sleeper, just like his sister.
“Shh, honey. See? You have a friend, now. Shh.” I gently pulled his hand over so he could touch Marcello’s arm.
And just like magic—Nicco stopped crying. He looked at Marcello, frowning a sweet little baby frown and scrunching his face up.
At that exact second, Marcello opened his eyes.
And they both stared at each other.
And in that moment, I swear I felt something pass between them. Like it was some kind of secret language or something. Nicco’s hand grasped onto Marcello’s arm and stayed there. Marcello looked at Nicco’s hand for a moment. And then he sighed and closed his eyes again.
Nicco kept his eyes on Marcello for another full minute before he—sighed. And closed his eyes.
The pain on his face instantly disappeared, and he seemed to drift off.
“Is that—” Carlo started to say, then lowered his voice to a whisper, “okay?”
I shrugged because honestly, at that moment, all I cared about was getting in sixty minutes of sleep before Marcello woke up.
“I guess we’ll see.” I looked up at Carlo and grabbed his hand. We really hadn’t had any time at all together in the last week. He was always dealing with Nicco and also trying to spend as much time as possible with Dani. She still wanted her dada’s attention. And he still wanted hers.
That meant our relationship suffered because of it.
“Come to bed. We have fifty-eight minutes or less before Marcello will be up.”
Carlo nodded and followed me to bed.
We slipped between the sheets, Carlo pulling me into his body, spooning me. “She left,” he said into my ear, his warm breath floating over my skin. I had no idea what he was talking about. Dani was in her room. I’d tucked her in. Ari was inside asleep. And I just saw Eve three hours ago in the kitchen.
There were no more shes in the house.
“What are you talking about?” I turned my head slightly.
“Stassia. She left. She’s gone.”
My lungs quit functioning. What the heck did he mean—Stassia left?
“She said she’ll sign custody over if I pay her off.”
My mouth dropped open, and I rolled over in his arms. “Are you serious?” I asked, not believing what Carlo was saying. He couldn’t mean what he was saying. Stassia wasn’t the type to essentially—sell her son. I must be misunderstanding.
“She said she doesn’t want to be a mother anymore. Said she hates everything about being a mother. She wants her old life back.”
Some of those words brought back memories for me. Bad memories. “Maybe she has postpartum? She should go see a doc in the morning.”
Carlo’s head shook slowly. “She’s been to four. I forced her to go. And none of them say she’s got any kind of postpartum.”
If Stassia didn’t have postpartum—then what the heck did she have? What kind of mother didn’t want her kid? Yes, Nicco was loud and colicky. But he was a big, beautiful baby. You’d have to be pretty stupid not to see the promise of what he’d be one day.
Babyhood didn’t last forever. Neither did colic. She had to know that.
“Where did she go?”
Carlo kissed my forehead. “Fuck if I know. All she told me was that she was getting the hell out of here.”
If Stassia didn’t want Nicco—that meant he’d be Carlo’s full-time responsibility. Which also meant he’d be mine.
