Page 44 of Taking His Heart

“I’ll show you a guestroom. Once you’re finished here,” Mom says.

“Thank you, Mrs. Bianchi.”

“Heard there was a party. Must have missed my invite.” Mr. De Bellis appears in my bedroom.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Daniella jumps up from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s not every day I’m told my daughter got married,” Mr. De Bellis says.

“Don’t worry, Gio. It’s not because she’s knocked up. Or so I’m told,” my mother mutters that last part under her breath.

“I… I’m going to make coffee,” Daniella says in a quiet voice. She doesn’t make eye contact with me before she leaves the room.

“Fucking hell, Ma,” I grunt. “Can this wait, Doc? I need a minute with my wife.”

“It really shouldn’t wait, CJ. The sooner we get you started on these antibiotics, the sooner you’ll feel better.”

“Stay here. I could use a coffee.” Mr. De Bellis walks out.

“What’s going on, CJ?” Mom asks.

“Antonia, not our business,” Dad tells her.

“He’s our son, Carlo. Everything regarding him is our business,” Mom counters. “Why does your wife keep running out of the room?”

“I don’t know, Ma. Did you ever think that this is a bit much? Everyone just being here?” I suggest.

“Well, if you weren’t stupid enough to get into a damn pool, CJ, I wouldn’t have had to come over. I’m going to make you something to eat. Soup.”

“Can you make lasagna?” I try to hold back my grin.

“Lasagna? You really want to eat something that heavy?”

“I always want to eat your lasagna, Ma.”

“I’ve got some in the freezer at home. I’ll get Aiden to bring some over.” Mom walks out of the room.

“Dad, you need to get her to leave.”

My dad laughs at my request. “Yeah, okay, sure.” He shakes his head. “She’s not leaving until she knows you’re on the mend.”

“You guys have two other children. Maybe you should check in with them. I’m sure Aiden’s got himself into some kind of trouble overnight.”

“No doubt he has,” Dad says. “What’s going on with Daniella? How did you get her to marry you?”

“We talked. Worked shit out.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“Why does she look upset every time your mother mentions her being pregnant?” Dad presses.

Fuck, sometimes I wish my father weren’t so fucking observant.

“She’s not pregnant,” I assure him.

“Okay. Has she been before?”