Page 38 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

A boy.

She had passed the first trimester, which was good.

It still wasn’t enough to calm her concerns.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma caught sight ofCalisto watching her with his usual impassive expression. She swore there wasboth a warmth and a sadness to his gaze.

“What?” she dared to ask.

“I should be the one apologizing to you.”

“Oh?”

Calisto nodded. “You can’t be having a very easy go ofeverything with this pregnancy. It’s probably stressful. I doubt that Affonsohelps a whole lot in that department. I should have made an effort to comearound more often over the Summer, maybe to take Cynthia and Michelle out ofyour hair.”

“I adore those girls.”

“I’m glad for that,” he admitted. “I was hoping theywouldn’t be too hard on you.”

“After they realized I was just another commodity totheir father, like they are to him, the nastiness went away. They’re goodgirls. They miss their mom a lot.”

Calisto raised a single brow. “I miss her, too. Shewas certainly the better half where Affonso and she were concerned.”

“It’s all right that you didn’t come around,” Emmasaid. “We managed.”

“But I should have.”

“Better you didn’t.”

Calisto’s gaze narrowed. “And why is that?”

“Because that was what Affonso wanted. He was countingon the pregnancy drawing you into the folds again. He said you probablywouldn’t be able to help yourself, what with the way you seem to need to takecare of all his children in one way or another. You sure proved him wrong bymaking every single effort you could not to come anywhere near me.”

Damn.

Even she couldn’t ignore the hurt and anger in hertone.

Calisto drummed his fingers against leather. “Is thatall you want to say?”

“No.”

“What else?”

“I’m pregnant, Cal. Not carrying a disease.”

Calisto straightened in the driver’s seat like someonehad shoved a stake into his spine. “I don’t think that way.”

“It feels like it when you can’t even be bothered toshare a space with me.”

“Mi dispiace,” he apologized.

All of the little things that Emma had allowed to eataway at her over the last few months came rushing out of her in a vomit ofwords. She always had to be perfect, compliant, and quiet with her husband. Shewas never allowed to have an opinion, or make her voice heard.

She was his perfect little thing.

Not a partner.

His thing.