Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Halfway through the movie, she falls asleep with her head on my shoulder. I play with her hair, twisting the long, silky strands around my fingers long after the movie has finished.
Livy fetches us each a glass of sherry and grape juice for Anya. While Anya continues to nap next to me, Livy tells me bits and pieces of her history, which is colorful to say the least. I didn’t know she backpacked for two years around the world while scuba diving in the best sites or that she was a waterski champion in her day.
When it’s time to take Livy home, I wake Anya up with a gentle kiss. Her eyes are soft and hazy when she opens them, but the minute she looks into my face and reality sets in, the same old apprehension takes away her softness. She tenses, and then she’s all sharp angles and cutting edges.
Anya goes upstairs with Livy when Livy leaves to pack her bag. I check the weather to make sure it’s safe to drive. The storm blew over to the east where it will quickly dissipate.
A message arrives from Giorgio just as I close the weather app on my phone.
Some Xmas party. Big drama. Rachele isn’t pregnant after all. She said you had no business broadcasting it to the world.
Broadcasting it to the world involved me congratulating Luigi on becoming a grandfather. I guess Rachele just wanted to get a rise out of me by rubbing my infertility in my face, knowing what a sore issue that was for me. She didn’t succeed then, and Giorgio’s message doesn’t affect me now. I don’t care what she does with her life or who she has babies with. I care even less about their family dramas. I only feel pitiful distaste for Rachele’s sad attention-seeking attempt as I darken my screen and pocket my phone.
When I go to tell Livy we’ve got a green light, the women are hugging. I stop in the open door of the guest room.
“I love it,” Livy says, holding a glittery pink dress up against her body. “I’m going to wear it for New Year’s eve.”
“What are your plans?” Anya asks.
“I’m going ballroom dancing.” Livy twirls in a circle. “It’s a seventies-something club.”
“That sounds like fun.”
Livy winks. “I’ll send you photos from my phone.”
“You do that.”
“If the pajamas don’t fit, I can take it back to the maternity store. I thought they may come in handy for the hospital.”
“I’ll let you know if I need to change them. It’s a very thoughtful gift.”
It feels wrong to encroach on their private moment, so I clear my throat to alert them of my presence.
“Ready?” I ask when Livy looks at me.
“I can take a taxi.”
“You could.” I go inside and grab her overnight bag from the bed. “But I’ll never allow that.”
“Saverio,” Anya says, stopping me as I make my way to the door. “I’m going to drop off something for my mom.”
“Come along.” I tilt my head toward the hallway. “I’ll take you.”
“I can drive by myself now.” The dark feeling that comes over me must show on my face, because she adds quickly, “I don’t want to put you out.”
“One, you will not drive in the snow until you’ve had ample practice after the birth. Two, you can never put me out. And three, I’ll be on the road anyway.”
Livy pats my shoulder as she passes and sing-songs, “I approve, Mr. De Luca. You score ten brownie points.”
“I’ll grab my coat,” Anya says, averting her eyes as she follows behind Livy.
I take her hand, holding her back. She lifts her big, whisky-colored eyes to my face, a question painted over her features.
“Rachele lied,” I say. “She’s not pregnant. I just got word from Giorgio.”
I don’t even know why I’m telling her this. I don’t want her to think it’s important to me. I just want her to know the truth.
She blinks. “Why would she lie about something like that?”
I cup her stomach. “I think she’s jealous of you. Of us. Of what we have.”
Her gaze clouds over. “That’s just sad.” Pulling away, she adds, “If she knew the facts, she wouldn’t be envious.”
With that, she turns around and walks from the room. I want to go after her, but there’s nothing I can say because Anya is right. Our situation is far from enviable.
After seeing Livy home, I drive to the rehabilitation center. The thin layer of snow that covers the big house is already melting, the slush dripping down the gutters. Christmas lights decorate the façade, and the twinkling lights of a tree are visible through the lounge window on the first floor. The big lawn is still white, the fresh, undisturbed powder glistening under the spray lights that illuminate the property.
The driveway has been cleared. I park next to the main entrance and help Anya from the car before getting the basket she made up from the backseat.