Page 85 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

I swallow hard. “Yeah. I’m…good. I wanted to ask you something, though.”

He glances at me at a red light, rubbing a hand over his receding hairline. “Shoot.”

“I have a doctor’s appointment soon. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I need a pap smear,” I lie. “I don’t want Papa to worry, it’s just routine… will you take me?”

He frowns. “Why don’t you want him to know?”

I sigh. “Ever since Mama passed, Papa hasn’t really trusted doctors. We’ve always used Doc, but this is something I definitely don’t want him to do.”

Ricardo snorts. “Fair enough. I’ll be happy to take you.”

I grin at him. “Really? I appreciate you, Ricardo. It’s on Monday at four.”

“I’ll be here to pick you up at three, then.”

We arrive at home and I impulsively reach across the car console and kiss his cheek.

“Thanks again.”

Ricardo flushes a deep red but doesn’t respond. He’s not so bad, after all.

I sigh heavily as I walk inside and nearly fall on my face, tripping over a pair of long legs that are stretched out. I stumble but right myself, bracing myself on the couch arm.

I look down to see Dante half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, a quarter-empty bottle of scotch on the table with an empty glass. The air smells acrid and it almost makes me gag.

I can’t help watching him sleep for half a moment. Bags lie heavy under his eyes, his olive skin paler than usual. He looks thinner, his chest not quite as broad. Tears spring to the backs of my eyes.

I reach down, try to shake him awake. Nothing. I shake him harder and he grunts, blinking up at me with glassy blue eyes. “Samantha?”

Before I can process, he reaches out and grabs me around the waist. Pulls me down into his lap. I sit there for a moment, stunned, his chest warm against my side, arms strong around me. “Dante–”

He lets me go, blinking again and rubbing a hand across his face. “Fuck. Sorry. I was… dreaming.” He pauses. “How was your night?”

“Good,” I say, standing up, straightening out the hem of my dress. His eyes flicker down to watch the movement but then right back up to my eyes.

“Just good?”

“Just good, Dante. What are you doing down here?”

He gestures to the television. “Was watching the new episode. Have you seen it?”

“No,” I say flatly. I haven’t been able to. Makes me think of him. Of a time we were almost…

Well. Almost.

He looks up at me, searching my face. “Do you hate me,tesoro?”

A sob hitches in my chest. “No.” I turn around so he won’t see tears slip down my face, and I walk toward the stairs. “I’d have to care to hate you. And I don’t. Not anymore.”

He draws in a sharp breath but I don’t look back, taking the stairs two at a time.

I make it onto my bed before I burst into sobs. It’s only a few moments before I’m lurching out of bed to throw up ginger ale and crackers into the toilet.

Damnit. I don’t know why they call it morning sickness, because I’m sick all the time. I’m sure part of it is the stress of the breakup, but I’m still worried. Monday can’t come soon enough.

I wait an hour before I walk out of my room, sure that Dante will have gone up to his room by then. But as I reach the top of the stairs, I see the tv flickering. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Did he pass out again? I huff out a breath, quietly padding down the stairs. A hitched breath makes my feet stutter.

“Fuck.” I watch as Dante wipes at his face angrily, and something twists in my stomach.