The front door opened and closed softly, signaling that my father had arrived home. I glanced at Anthony, watched as he remained perfectly still, listening to my father’s footsteps in the front hall. He turned around to face me, dropped on one knee and took both my hands in his giving them a slight squeeze.
“It will be okay,” he whispered, his crystal blue eyes holding me captive as they reassured me. I could tell his mind was racing, I could almost see the wheels turning behind his irises, but still he seemed so completely composed. He bit on the inside of his cheek, dropping his gaze to my flat stomach, releasing one of my hands to place his flat palm over the fabric of my shirt that draped over my belly.
I knew without a shadow of a doubt he would be an amazing father. Our baby is going to be loved more than either of us could ever imagine loving someone. He’s going to right all the wrongs his father did as a provider and role model. I can see it all right there in the way he gently splays his hand over my stomach and stares at me in awe. He’s always looked at me like I was some sort of gift from God. Since I told him I was pregnant he’s been looking at me differently, like the sun rises and sets over me, like I’m the reason he breathes.
His hand dropped as the heels of my father’s shoes sounded more pronounced against the wooden floor. Anthony rose to his feet, crossed his arms against his broad chest, his stance as lethal as the job my father has asked him to do.
My dad stepped into the living room, taking one look at Anthony before turning his attention towards me, offering me a warm smile. He looked as if he was confused by why I was there but didn’t say anything. Instead, he made a detour to the liquor cabinet and fixed himself a scotch.
“Hi sweetheart, I didn’t know you’d be home,” he greeted as he swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass. I wanted to rip it from his hand and pour the scotch over his head. He was so completely unfazed by what he was doing to us, making all the love and admiration I once had for him morph into hatred.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I mumbled, earning me a warning glance from Anthony.
My dad took a long sip of his drink. “That’s good.” He said more to himself than to us before placing the glass back on top of the cabinet and turning around to face us.
“Sweetheart why don’t you go upstairs for a few moments, Anthony and I have business to discuss,” He said, condescendingly.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Anthony responded, his tone stern.
I watched the exchange between the first man I ever loved and the one I’ll love for the rest of my life. They looked as if they were in the middle of a standoff. Anthony matched my father’s cold hard stare with one of his own.
“Excuse me?” Daddy dearest said. “I don’t discuss business matters in front of my daughter.”
“You won’t be discussing much. I have something to tell you and you’re just going to listen to me speak.”
“Watch your step,” my father warned.
“Change in plans, Vic,” Anthony said, holding my dad’s gaze, ignoring his warning. “Adrianna’s pregnant and I’m not leaving her. You will have to find someone else to get inside.”
My father’s eyes widen and pierce me. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” I said, meeting his gaze.
“For crying out loud!” He roared, slamming his hand against the marble cabinet his drink sat upon. “Does your mother know?”
“No,” I said flatly. I could see the veins in his neck and I knew that this was about to go very bad.
“You’re missing the point Vic. I’m not going along with the plan. I will meet with the D.A. tomorrow and retract my statement.”
My father turned to Anthony and laughed.
“Something funny?” Anthony asked, but I know behind his cool exterior he is just as puzzled by my father’s reaction.
“Yeah, the fact you are dictating how this will work is pretty fucking amusing. First you knock up my daughter and then you tell me how this will pan out? I’ve buried people for saying a lot less offensive shit to me, so watch your step boy! I don’t give two fucks about what you know, or who you planted your seed in, I will not hesitate to make a fucking example out of you.”
“Go right ahead old man, but you’d be leaving your daughter broken-hearted and alone, raising our baby.”
“There will not be a baby,” he turned and pointed in disgust towards my stomach. “You will get rid of it, no fucking questions asked!”
“The fuck she is,” Anthony roared dropping his hands to his sides, balling them into fists as he advanced towards my father.
My father’s eyes narrowed at Anthony. “Mind your fucking business Bianci or so help me God, I will put you in a fucking wooden box.”
“Stop it!” I shouted, rising to my feet. “You don’t have a say in what happens to our baby.”
“Really? How are you going to support this baby when he’s rotting in jail? Because I can guarantee you if you don’t do as I say you’ll be on your own trying to figure it out.”