I can’t speak past the lump of emotions in my throat, but Serenity senses my upheaval and offers me a glass of water. I take it and use it as an excuse to delay my response. She fills the silence.
“I think the last time I saw you was at that godawful wedding several years ago, the one where half a dozen people passed out from heat exhaustion and went to the emergency room because some dumbass planned an outdoor wedding in the middle of summer. I’m sure the open bar didn’t help, either.”
“Wait, I wasn’t the only one who fainted?”
“Oh no, you definitely weren’t. But you were the only one Giorgio caught and carried all the way across that humongous venue to the ambulance. I’ve never seen my brother run so fast in my entire life.”
“You’re quite the chatterbox today, aren’t you, Senny?” Giorgio says from behind me.
I miss Serenity’s response as he joins me at the counter, standing so close his arm brushes over mine.
“Confinement looks good on you, though.”
His teasing tone shocks me from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes, followed closely by envy and yearning.
Serenity ignores him by pointing her focus at me.
“So why are you here, and what made you come with my brother?”
“We’re getting married,” Giorgio answers for me.
His lack of finesse in delivering the news both annoys and relieves me.
“Oh,” Serenity hesitates and glances behind us before asking, “When?”
“In four months,” Giorgio says.
“Well, that’s terrifyingly familiar. Did Papà spring it on you the same way he did me?” she asks.
Disbelief spears through me. I saw Nico and Serenity’s betrothal announcement and wedding invitations in my mother’s emails and texts, but didn’t look at the dates close enough to realize they married so quickly.
“It seems he’s mastered the art of ambushing his children,” Giorgio says.
Serenity’s expression turns mutinous. She aims a glare behind us again. I glimpse Nico’s reflection in the backsplash and realize he’s leaning on the wall in the living room.
“We’re changing Camilla’s phone number and blocking our parents’ information. They are not putting her through that. I don’t care if she has to cut contact with them permanently. She—”
As Serenity continues her rant, I lower my eyes to the counter, feeling like an interloper witnessing something private and precious. I’m envious of her ability to voice her concern for her sister.
My long, lonely past stretches behind me. I wish I had a sister like her to protect me. Hell, any sibling near my age would be amazing, but the ten-year gap between Tristan and me makes our dynamic seem more like a mother and child.
I don’t regret raising my brother—he’s always been the best thing about my life—but the constant weight of responsibility, fear, and loneliness sometimes feels like too much to bear.
“Whatever you think is best,” Nico says in response to Serenity’s concern.
Her anger melts away and tears fill her eyes.
“Come here, mia principessa,” Nico demands.
Serenity crosses the kitchen and disappears into his arms, mumbling about stupid hormones and babies and virile mafia men.
I jump when Giorgio’s massive hand encompasses the back of mine on the glass.
“Squeeze any harder and you might break it,” he murmurs.
My lame response is to squeak and slip my hand out from under his.
“I’m okay now. You called him over for a reason, so go take care of it,” Serenity says with a final sniffle and a push out of her husband’s arms.
When Nico reaches for her, she swats him away and starts toward us.
“That’s your hint to get out of the room. It’s time for girl talk,” she tells Giorgio.
After an extensive study of my face, Giorgio tucks a stray hair behind my ear before following Nico into the study.
Serenity opens the fridge and systematically fills the counter with containers of food.
“I swear, as soon as our honeymoon ended, all I wanted to do was eat all day long. Snacks are easier to digest, maybe? There’s plenty to share, so just grab a fork and dive in.”
I stare at the options, too overwhelmed to move.
“I’m sorry, that’s probably gross. Nico’s had me in lockdown for a few weeks, so the probability of me being sick is basically in the negatives, but if you’d rather—”
I reach into the drawer and grab a fork before she can close it.
“No. Please. Thank you.”
The right words won’t form. Emotions threaten to bury me.
Serenity’s slim yet strong arms wrap around me.
It’s been almost a decade, but her hug hasn’t changed at all.
I break. Ugly sobs. Tears. Snot. The whole shebang.
I don’t know how she does it, but she completely unravels me. It could be her naturally sweet and caring nature, her unfettered welcome, her lack of pity, or the understanding—from her own personal experience, at that—in her gaze, but the pillars holding me up crumble.
She pats my back and hugs me tighter, just like she did when we were kids. The firmness of her belly only breaks me further.
I pull myself together by sheer force of will. Too many emotions batter me, so I shove them into tiny compartments to decode later and wipe my tears, but I can’t force myself to leave Serenity’s arms.
Realization hits me. I know why her embrace means so much to me.
She’s the only person besides my aunt who ever hugged me.
Telling her so will only make me feel more pathetic—and reveal way too much about my predicament—but I need her to know how grateful I am. I can never repay her for these kind gestures.
After resting my forehead on her shoulder and soaking in as much of her as I can, storing her scent and the feel of her arms around me for later when I need encouragement, I fill my lungs and hold my breath until it hurts.
“Thank you, Serenity. A lot,” I say as I pull away.
She scoots the tissue box closer. I snag a few.
“Better?” she asks.
I nod.
“Then dig in.”
When she stabs her fork into the tub of spaghetti, I give her a wobbly smile and reach for what looks like spinach.
“Hey, if you’re on a diet, no, you aren’t.” She pulls the spinach out of reach. “These calories don’t count because they’re for the baby. Eat whatever you want, not what you think you should eat.”
I study the options.
“But that is what I want. Truly,” I say when she gives me a skeptical look.
“You sure?”
I nod. She shrugs and passes it over.
“Careful, it’s spicy. Like, melt your mouth spicy. Nico ordered it from an authentic Thai restaurant, I think.”
“It smells amazing,” I say before I take a bite. It tastes more than amazing, so I go for seconds. As I scarf down half the container, I choose my next victim. Serenity gives a happy wiggle and picks a bite from almost every box.
When I reach for my next choice, Serenity offers to warm it up on the stove, but I shovel it in my mouth and shake my head.
After the horrendous amount of food Giorgio pushed down my throat not long ago, I shouldn’t be hungry, but a hole must have formed in the bottom of my stomach. I’ve never had much of an appetite, but I’ve also never had a chilled medium-rare steak before.
I pause mid-chew.
Fuck. Leafy green veggies. Red meat. Insatiable hunger.
My mother made sure I took my prescription this morning, but with the emotional upheaval, broken sleep, and mountains of stress heaped on top of my head recently, it’s possible I’m not absorbing the nutrients I need.
Serenity clears her throat and nudges the steak toward me.
“No judgment here, Aurora.”
“That’s not it. I just… our parents want us to make a pregnancy announcement in less than a year.”
She gasps and slams her fork onto the marble counter. I jump at the unexpected sound as it cracks through my ears.
A gigantic shape rushes past me. Nico snatches Serenity off her feet and pins her to the fridge.
Thick fingers weave into my hair and yank my head back as a massive arm wraps around my front and tugs me back against Giorgio’s hard body.
“What happened? Where are you hurt?” he snarls.
“I-I’m not hurt,” I say.
His melted dark chocolate eyes check me from head to toe before narrowing on my swollen eyes.
“You were crying,” he accuses.
“She’s allowed, Giorgio. Mio Dio, what is wrong with our parents?” Serenity hisses.
“You scared the shit out of me, mia principessa. Calm down and explain what your parents did this time,” Nico demands.
“How old are you, Aurora?” Serenity asks.
“Eighteen,” I answer.
“She’s three years younger than Natalie! No. You can’t. Giorgio, tell me you won’t,” she growls.
Before he’s forced to anger his sister further, I respond.
“It’s not his fault, Serenity. Neither of us has a choice, so don’t take it out on him.”
She takes a deep breath and shakes her head.
“No. You’re not ready for a baby.”
Her outrage on my behalf soothes all the pain caused by my parents. I still want their love and protection, but knowing there’s someone in the universe who cares enough about me to fight for me erases the worst of my agony.
Even though she doesn’t understand how dangerous pregnancy would be for me, she’s still against me having a baby so young.
“Thank you. I mean it. Thank you.”
My throat closes up, but I refuse to cry, so I swallow.
“Don’t tell me there’s a but after your gratitude,” she snarls.
“There is. It’s okay now. I trust Giorgio and I trust myself. We’ll handle this how it needs to be handled.”
“I think they will, too. You’ve been on your feet too long, principessa. Let’s get you in bed,” Nico insists.
“Don’t go all high-handed on me right now. I’m pregnant, not sick, and we’re in the middle of a conversation.”
He scoops her into a cradle hold. She sighs.
“Naps are boring without my tablet. Why’d it have to go all blue screen of death right when I’m trapped at home?”
“What type of tablet is it?” I ask without thinking.
Serenity has already helped me so much; I can’t leave her without entertainment if it’s an issue I can fix.
Which I can. She answers my question, but it isn’t important.
“Can I look at it? I’m pretty good at solving tech issues.”
Giorgio’s arm tightens around my stomach. Although he loosened his grip on my hair, he hasn’t released me.
Shit. I’m not doing a very good job of hiding my interests if he’s caught on after only a day and a half. I’ll have to tread carefully, because if he knows what I’m truly capable of, he’ll ruin any chance I have of getting Tristan to safety.
