"You're thinking about how you impregnated me, aren't you?" She rolls her eyes.
"It was quite the accomplishment," I remark without reservation.
"It's biology, Santiago."
"And the De La Rosa virility," I argue.
Her smile fades as her palms come to rest on my forearms. "What will happen if this baby is a girl?"
"Then we will have a daughter," I answer, not understanding her point.
"But it won't be the same as a son." Sadness tinges her voice.
"Do you want a boy?" I furrow my brows.
"No, that's not what I'm saying," she huffs. "I'm saying you do."
"I want a boy," I agree. "We will need male heirs, certainly. But I want girls too. A mixture would be good."
Her eyes widen. "How many babies do you think we're going to have?"
"As many as I can put inside you."
She does not look amused as she shakes her head. "I'm not a baby factory."
"I know. But you have to admit it isn't a chore to make them."
"Make them, no. Carrying them around for nine months and raising them? Yes, that will be a lot of work."
"We'll have help," I assure her. "Antonia—"
"Santiago." She traces her fingers over my lips, quieting me. "Let's just get through one baby at a time, okay?"
I shrug, and she seems to let the issue go, for now. We wash off beneath the spray, and then towel off and brush our teeth at the sinks. The entire ritual is oddly domestic, and I feel a suffocating weight on my chest, like I need to leave. To escape for a while. But then Ivy ruins it all with one request.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" she asks. "For at least a little while."
"Okay."
She pauses to look at me like she doesn't believe me. "Okay?"
"Don't make a big deal of it."
She fights a smile and nods, and together we go back into the bedroom and crawl in bed, still naked. For a few minutes, we lay there, side by side, staring up at the ceiling. Not touching, neither of us speaking. And then beneath the covers, I feel Ivy's palm on my dick.
Next thing I know, I'm balls deep inside her again, fucking her into the bed as she cries out my name, digging her nails into my ass.
Once we have both come, I collapse beside her, and she nestles her head into the space between my arm and shoulder, curling her body close to mine. My hand falls around her naturally, and I close my eyes, just for a minute. That minute turns into an entire night, and the next time I open them, I'm surprised to see it's morning.
I spent the entire night in bed with her.
17
Ivy
The next month passes peacefully between Santiago and I. There’s no sign of Abel. It’s like he’s vanished off the face of the earth. Any bank accounts in his name have been frozen, according to Santiago, who has somehow gained access to them. There’s been no credit card activity on any known cards for weeks. Between Santiago’s men and the soldiers, The Society has stationed throughout New Orleans and anywhere else Abel has ever had ties, I can’t fathom where he’d be hiding.
Did he have more than one safe house? He had to have. He needs a place to lie low. He needs money.
Unless, of course, someone is hiding him.
Santiago hasn’t said as much but I know it’s on his mind. A man I’ve yet to be introduced to has come to see Santiago multiple times and with Santiago’s tendency to become more animated and raise his voice when it comes to my brother, I’ve overheard a few things. It’s not that I’m eavesdropping exactly. It’s just if I didn’t happen by his office door during these visits, he’d never tell me anything.
He’s been to see my father almost daily and when I ask my father what they talk about, what has him and Santiago so worried, he changes the subject, maneuvers me around on tiptoe. At least I’m allowed to see him, though. Although I’m still not sure Santiago’s feelings for my father will ever change. If he’ll ever not blame him for what happened the night his father and brother were killed along with so many others. The night he walked away a scarred, broken man.
I know Santiago doesn’t want me to worry. I know he’s keeping things from me in order to protect me, protect our baby. At least I believe that’s his thinking process. I don’t like it, but I can’t seem to budge him on that. In some ways it’s endearing me to him. I like seeing how careful he is with me. Different than he is with anyone else. He’s gentle and thoughtful and I realize I feel safe. Safe in this house. This home we’re making. Safe in his arms and in his bed.
I haven’t told him my feelings for him yet. Haven’t said the words I love you. But they’re creeping up more and more often when we make love. When he holds me afterward. And it’s getting harder to swallow them down.
He’s let Eva and I video call Hazel and her son, Michael. Michael looks like a mini version of my sister, and seeing her, even over a video, was so much more emotional than I ever thought it could be. I missed my sister these years but I didn’t realize how fresh that hurt was.
We keep the conversations pretty light with Michael and Eva around but it’s okay. At least we’ve reconnected. At least I know she’s safe. And the best part of it is that Michael already calls me Aunt Ivy and has begun to randomly call me when he gets home from school to tell me about his day. He most often forgets he’s on the call after just a few minutes and puts the iPad he’s using down to go off to play or eat a snack. It’s the sweetest thing.
Eva’s been back to school, too, at her own request which shows me how bored she was getting. Although Santiago has stationed two guards to remain at her side. She tells me they at least stay in the hallway when she’s in a classroom. I love watching them interact especially. My little sister taking on Santiago De La Rosa, poking holes in his armor, even having him outright laughing when she’s not testing every boundary.
He’s a different man from the one I met just months ago.
I would feel better having my father moved into the house, but he still refuses me that.
Today, though, I am going to see Colette. It’s late afternoon by the time Marco returns to take me but I don’t complain. I know he’s one of Santiago’s most trusted men and when it can’t be Santiago himself to accompany me to the few places I am permitted to go, it’s always Marco and only Marco.
“How is he?” I ask Marco as I settle into the Rolls Royce. It feels strange sitting in the back seat when it’s just the two of us but when I tried to slip into the front seat once, I realized quickly how uncomfortable it made him.
“Working too hard and sleeping too little,” Marco says, knowing I mean Santiago. He cares about him. I wonder if Santiago realizes it. If he even sees how many people he has around him who truly care about him. It makes me sad to think he finds himself unlovable.
“And my father?”
“Same as your husband.”
I want to ask more, but I don’t. He won’t tell me anything else.
We’re silent on the drive to Colette and Jackson’s Garden District house. It’s a sunny day, the temperature warmer than it’s been in a while. I have always loved spring in New Orleans. I’m wearing a simple cotton dress and a light sweater, and you can see my rounding belly clearly now. It’s a small bump, but it’s definitely there, and I put my hand over it, waiting for the day I feel the first little flutters of movement. According to the books Santiago bought me, it’ll be a few weeks before that happens, though.