So, I bought it with my own money. Money I didn’t even know I had.
When Mom died, I was so sunk in grief that I didn’t hear when her will was read. I was underage so it was easy for Dad to keep the truth from me. Mom married Dad with a small fortune of her own and she’d changed her will when I was thirteen to leave everything to me. The Black Orchid Murders happened when I was nine and De Luca continued to kill outside Coldlake through all my teen years. Dad grew more ambitious and must have felt untouchable. I wish I could ask her what happened in the years between when I was nine and thirteen to make her change her will. I don’t believe she knew Dad was involved in any murders, but perhaps she felt something evil growing in the man she loved and quietly made plans to protect me.
I feel her in the rooms of this house, especially at night when the lights are low and soft music is playing. I stripped away the few things that reminded me of Dad and now it’s all Mom.
Me and Mom.
I filled in the swimming pool. With the pool gone, the house feels completely different, and I planted a garden in its place with all her favorite flowers.
Daisies and dahlias. Poppies and chrysanthemums.
I go into labor three days early. I feel calm as I announce to Salvatore and Cassius that I think I’ve had a contraction, but they turn so pale it’s as if they forgot I was pregnant.
While they’re still reeling from shock, touching my belly, and grabbing my shoulders, I take out my phone and call the midwife. Then I video call Vinicius and Lorenzo and tell them what’s happening.
“Kitten, oh my God. How are you feeling?”
“A little nervous, but I’m all right.” I glance at the other two. “You’d better get here quickly.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” demands Lorenzo. From the way his screen is jumping around it seems like he’s broken into a run.
“Oh, I’m fine. But Salvatore and Cassius could use some emotional support.”
Seven hours later, the contractions are a fierce band around my belly. I feel like my muscles are going to squeeze me and the baby to mush at any moment.
“Breathe, baby.”
I’m no longer calm.
“You fucking breathe!” I shriek at Salvatore, and his eyes practically cross as I squeeze his hand so tight that the bones creak.
“Cassius, take my place for a minute, will you?” Salvatore gasps.
Salvatore’s hand pulls out of my grasp and a larger one takes his place. Cassius murmurs soft words in Italian in my ear and dabs a damp cloth against my sweating brow.
“Bambina, you’re doing so well. Look at you. So strong. You can squeeze harder. You won’t hurt me.”
The contraction passes and I suck in a huge breath. I thought this would hurt, but I didn’t anticipate the immense pressure my body would suddenly be exerting on itself. “How much longer?”
“We’re nearly there,” the midwife tells me from between my thighs, her attention focused on the baby. “The next contraction, you’re going to push as hard as you can, okay Chiara?”
“Okay,” I gasp, taking a firmer grip on Cassius’ hand. It’s nearly three in the morning. My eyes are burning and my men all look disheveled and tense, but they keep smiling at me and saying encouraging words.
Lorenzo is down by my legs and watching the midwife like a hawk. He’s read every book about babies and delivery he can get his hands on and was insistent he would deliver the baby himself. I put my foot down and told him I was having an experienced professional and that was the end of the discussion.
“The next baby, then,” he conceded. “This one, I’ll just watch. We’re practicing this first time around, princess.”
Vinicius is opposite Lorenzo, holding my other hand and compulsively running his fingers through his hair. For once, he hasn’t got anything to say. The midwife hasn’t complained that the master bedroom in Salvatore’s house that has been turned into a birthing room is crowded with men. Her expression didn’t even flicker when we told her that all four men are the father. All she said was, This baby is going to receive a lot of love, isn’t it?
We would love to love it, if only it would arrive.
I’m opening my mouth to ask for a sip of water when I’m gripped by another contraction.
The midwife pats my thigh. “Here we go. Time to push, Chiara.”
I barely have a choice in the matter. Everything in my body is screaming, Down, push down, get this thing OUT.
I feel a slithering sensation. Everything seems to happen at once.
“It’s a boy!” Vinicius cries out, finding his voice at last.
A boy. I have a son. I barely have the energy to sit up. “Let me see him. Is he all right?”
A moment later an indignant cry pierces the air. The midwife lays the baby on my breast and my eyes fill with tears as I feel his weight on my heart.
“Baby,” I whisper. “Hi, baby. We’re so happy to meet you.”
My men all crowd around me, their hands on me, their fingers gently touching the baby. Their son.
The midwife checks the baby’s reflexes, cleans him up and weighs him, and wraps him in a blanket. Lorenzo is hovering by her the entire time and as soon as she’s finished, he holds out his arms.
“Can I hold him?”
“Of course you can.”
The men all huddle around Lorenzo, smiling at the baby in wonder.
“Can you take a picture of them?” I whisper to the midwife, and she takes out her phone and snaps some photos. I want to remember this moment forever.
“I’ve sent them to you,” she tells me. “Congratulations on your beautiful boy.”
A few minutes later, Vinicius collapses into the chair next to me. “I don’t know about you, kitten, but I’m exhausted.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” I tell him with a grin. “How does it feel to be a father?”
He reaches out and takes my hand, and his golden eyes are glowing. “Absolutely wonderful.”
Several hours later, after the midwife has gone and I’ve had my first go at breastfeeding the baby and fallen into a doze, I wake up to see Salvatore walking up and down the room with the baby in his arms. The baby is sound asleep.
“I thought you only have to do that when he’s crying.”
“I just want to,” Salvatore murmurs and comes over to drop a kiss on my mouth. “Good morning, clever mama.”
The sun is up and morning light is filtering through the tree outside the bedroom window. Vinicius is asleep in the chair next to me and Cassius is sitting on the window seat, looking tired but peaceful. His white shirt is wrinkled under the arms in a rare moment of not looking runway perfect.
Lorenzo comes in a moment later with a tray of mugs and passes out coffee. I take a grateful sip of my latte and listen to Lorenzo reassert to everyone that he could definitely deliver a baby, it didn’t seem that hard.
I remember screeching at Salvatore when the contractions became too much. Delivering the baby wouldn’t be hard for him, anyway.
“I could deliver the next one. I know I could. If you still want a midwife, princess, they could supervise.”