Page 77 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

Chemotherapy.

Months and months of different cold, sterile environments, before Mama finally got Papa to stop fighting.

To let her go.

Then she was home, and I still can’t walk past her room, the one she died in.

But I”ll have to suck it up. I want my baby to be healthy and happy, even if I can’t be.

I can do this by myself. I have to.

I make an appointment with a reputable OB, according to my internet research, and it’s two weeks away.

I plan to see if Sofia or Reese or both can go with me. The first day I exit my room, I don’t see anyone but Maria at first, and I’m grateful.

She smiles at me. “You’ve joined the land of the living again.”

I give her a weak smile back. “Turns out I have. Thank you for being so kind while I was sick.”

She scoffs, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s my job.” Maria places a breakfast plate in front of me. “I’m afraid your father’s already eaten, and Dante doesn’t seem interested in my cooking anymore.”

I stiffen at the mention of Dante’s name, but I just dig in, praising the taste to make her feel better.

Once I’ve eaten my first full meal in a week, I’m afraid I’m going to throw it all back up, but I don’t, and my stomach feels delightfully full in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

I take in a deep breath before I head out to the pool, wearing a one-piece with a coverup instead of my usual string bikini. I don’t need anyone getting any ideas because my body is changing, although slowly.

Thank God I was already curvy before this. If I’d been tall and thin like Sofia, it’d be obvious that something was afoot.

I sit at the edge of the pool, looking down at the thread of text messages Reese and Sofia had sent me in the group chat. Mostly supportive. Some worried.Come over?I text.

They both agree immediately and I feel a little bad for worrying them. But I have to get through this, and this is the only way I know how.

I’m in almost a good mood as I walk back toward the house to watch for them and open the gate.

Technically, they know the gate code, but Papa isn’t supposed to know that, and he’s home recuperating. My feet falter as I see afigure leaning against the brick of the back of the house. It’s big enough that I know instantly it’s Dante.

I want to turn back around. Dive into the pool. To hell with Papa finding out they know the gate code. He won’t stay mad forever.

But I can’t avoid this forever, either. My stomach rolls and I take in a few deep breaths through my nostrils before I keep walking, my head down.

I can’t help but glance up as I walk by, and I notice he’s chewing on something that looks like a toothpick. Curious, the words come out of my mouth before I can think twice.

“What are you doing?”

Dante jerks his head up at my voice. He’d been looking down at the ground. His eyes meet mine, flashing once before going blank like usual. He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, spitting out the toothpick.

“Smoked cigarettes when I was younger. A lot of them. Three packs a day. I finally kicked the habit but sometimes, when I’m stressed… it’s hard. This helps.”

I look at him for a long moment, fighting not to search his expression for some kind of reaction. Hurt. Anger.Anything.But it doesn’t matter, does it? Like he said, it doesn’t matter what he wants. What I want. What matters is what we choose.

He didn’t choose me.

I choose myself. And this baby.

“Maybe I’ll pick up the habit,” I mumble, and keep walking, giving him a wide berth.

Dante hesitates. “Samantha.” His voice is low. Broken. My feet falter again, and then I grit my teeth and keep walking.