“Let me grab a tea as well and then we can settle on the sofa, all right?” Aria lightly touched my shoulder, waiting for me to say something. I nodded eventually. Grabbing my tea, I went ahead and sank down. Aria soon joined me with her own cup and made herself comfortable next to me. Maybe it was my imagination but it felt as if she was looking at me differently already. As if I wasn’t just Gianna anymore, but pregnant Gianna. Aria sipped at her tea. Maybe she hoped I’d bridge the topic but I wasn’t even sure where to begin.
“Is there anything you want to talk about? Any questions?”
I set my tea down on the table, biding my time. “It’s not that I don’t like kids,” I said. “I love your kids, you know that? And I love Lily’s kid. I just never wanted them myself.”
Aria touched my knee. “I know, Gianna. I get it. You don’t have to justify yourself, okay?”
“When you and Lily played with dolls and pretended to be their mothers, I never got it. I never wondered how it would be to be a mother. When I saw you with your babies, I never imagined how it would be if I was in your stead. Motherhood just never was the plan. I don’t want responsibility for someone else. The mafia takes away so much of our freedom and I worked so hard to carve out small freedoms for myself, but a child would take those away.”
“Sometimes things don’t work out how we plan them,” Aria said.
I gave her a look. “Don’t say something like it’s fate or maybe this child is something I never knew I needed.”
“I wasn’t going to. Hear me out,” she said quickly. “I won’t tell you that you will magically love motherhood once the baby is there, because it isn’t like that for everyone. Some women regret becoming mothers. They don’t admit it aloud because they fear to be judged. As women, we are supposed to love being mothers without reservation. As mothers, we are supposed to be perfect. The moment we are pregnant, people think our body is their business and the second the baby is there everyone knows how to raise it better than you. Being a mother is hard. I lost count of the times I cried when Amo was a baby and wouldn’t stop wailing.”
My eyes widened. “You never told me.”
“Only Luca knows because he had to talk me off the edge several times,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to admit that I was overwhelmed. I thought I needed to handle this, after all, Amo wasn’t my first child, so why was I suddenly so overwhelmed? But I was, and I was guilty because of it, and worried I was being a bad mother not just for him but also for Marcella because suddenly she had to share my attention…” She sighed. “Without Luca, I wouldn’t have gotten through it. Hormones and emotional overload are a dangerous combination. I’m not sure, maybe I was even teetering on the edge of postpartum depression…”
“Should you be telling me this?” I asked confused, but I was incredibly grateful that she did, that she was taking me seriously and not trying to sugarcoat things. “Shouldn’t you tell me how wonderful it is to be a mother? That I’ll hear angels sing the moment I see my child, that I’ll love my shredded vajayjay, my sore nipples, my sleepless nights and all the poop and vomit?”
She let out a small laugh. “I love my children. There are so many wonderful moments I cherish. I love being a mother, and maybe you’ll love it too, but maybe you won’t. There will be wonderful moments and very hard ones. For me the hard ones are worth it because the wonderful moments outweigh everything else, but I can’t tell you if it’ll be the same for you. That’s for you and Matteo to decide.”
I hugged Aria tightly. “Thank you so much, Aria. I don’t tell you often enough but I love you.”
Aria’s arms shook around me and I heard her sniffle and my own eyes watered. “No crying,” I said firmly, pulling back.
Aria smiled tearfully. “You should remind yourself.”
I frowned. “See, pregnancy hormones are already ruining my life.”
She shook her head, then her smile vanished. “When’s the appointment?”
I swallowed. “Next week.”
“If you want me to come with you, tell me, okay?”
I squeezed her hand. “Thank you, but I think Matteo and I need to handle this as a couple,” I whispered. “And Aria, please don’t tell Lily. I don’t want more people to know about this, and I really don’t want to cause her emotional turmoil in her state. I want her to enjoy her pregnancy one-hundred-percent and not feel guilty for sharing her joy.”
“I won’t. It’s your decision if and when you want to share this with her.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Gianna
The days seemed to stick together like glue, passing in excruciating slowness. I barely slept at night, my brain working in overdrive. I didn’t really feel pregnant and yet I felt different. Something was happening in my body that I had absolutely no control over. Matteo and I didn’t talk about the “p” or the “a” word. We tried to pretend everything was business as usual until the day arrived. A day supposed to relieve me of a burden that still felt a burden in itself.
We didn’t talk on our way to the clinic. Matteo wasn’t the quiet type and I wasn’t sure if he was silent for my sake or his. Matteo’s hand was firm around mine as we walked into the building and he didn’t release me when we settled on the uncomfortable chairs in the sterile waiting area of the clinic. We were alone in the clinic. Luca and Matteo had made sure no other patients would be around when I had my appointment. I knew Luca didn’t want word to get out about this. The Famiglia would be in uproar if people found out I’d gotten rid of a baby even though Matteo and I were married. I could guess the kind of speculations that would create. Was she pregnant with another man’s child? My reputation was still bad because of my escape all those years ago, and I doubted it would ever improve, but this could ruin me for good. I didn’t care. Not about my reputation, that is. I wasn’t sure what I felt anymore. The last few days had passed in a blur.
“Mrs. Vitiello, you can come in now,” a nurse said. Her voice was polite but her expression held tension and whenever her eyes darted to Matteo, even fear. I didn’t even want to know what Luca and Matteo had told the clinic staff to ensure their discretion.
Matteo rose and after a moment of hesitation, I did the same. Matteo’s hand around mine was warm and strong, and his face was reassuring. Again I tried to find his true feelings in his eyes but they were guarded in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time.
He led me toward the treatment room but I froze in the doorway, my eyes landing on the treatment chair I’d soon find myself in for the examination before the actual abortion. My chest clenched and I could barely breathe. Matteo peered at me, his brows drawing together. “Gianna?”
I swallowed and shook my head slowly. “I can’t,” I whispered.
The nurse stepped back to give us privacy. Matteo moved very close, shielding me from the room and its occupants, a doctor and another nurse, with his tall frame. “It’s okay. Whatever you do, it’ll be okay.”
I shook my head again. “I don’t want to be a mother. I don’t want a child.”