Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines Book 2) (8 page)

BOOK: Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines Book 2)
11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

 

Calisto opened the passenger door and stepped to the
side before helping Emma out of the car. They had arrived in just enough time
to see Affonso stepping out of the backseat of his own car.

“He left twenty minutes before us,” Emma said.

“Yeah.”

“How is he only just getting here now?”

Calisto shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

The ache in Emma’s back started up again as she
watched her husband lean into the backseat like he was chatting with someone.
Emma ignored the pain that traveled around to her front and down to her thighs.
She had mentioned the issue to her doctor the week before, but the man said it
was likely just her body growing with the child.

A little pain was expected.

Still, it made her nervous.

Blowing out a breath, Emma took another look at
Affonso’s car. Calisto was looking that way, too.

“Jesus,” Calisto muttered.

Emma didn’t bother asking what warranted his cussing.
She could plainly see just by following his gaze. The shadow of a woman’s
delicate features were clear through the back window of Affonso’s car.

She wasn’t surprised.

“He has women all over the city,” Emma said. “He
doesn’t bother to hide it.”

“He’s leaving you alone,” Calisto said under his
breath.

“You could say that.”

It did bother Emma on some level that Affonso couldn’t
even try to at least hide his affairs, but she had learned that questioning him
did nothing. It certainly didn’t help.

“I’ve become good at turning my cheek,” Emma said.

Calisto smiled sadly. “I can see that.”

She smoothed her dress over her swell, and Calisto
closed the passenger door. By the time they had turned back to the restaurant,
Affonso was smacking the top of the car and moving back to the sidewalk like
nothing was amiss. He must have caught sight of Calisto and Emma, because he
waved a single hand in their direction, beckoning them over without even
looking at them.

“Any advice for this breakfast?” Emma asked Calisto.

“Smile. Let Affonso do the talking. Carl Calabrese is
a flamboyant man that likes to show off the things he has. Try to pretend to
give a damn, but I know it’ll be hard. It’s hard for us all. His wife is …
nice, but a little in the clouds, if you know what I mean. Their adult children
are spoiled rotten, but they probably won’t be here today. His son, maybe. Be
your usual self, Emmy.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll do fine,” he assured. 

Without asking, Calisto hooked his arm with hers,
bringing her closer and moving her to his left side, away from the cars zooming
by on the street. It was an innocent enough gesture, but it still made Emma
shiver. She could smell his cologne, teasing her senses in a way she couldn’t
explain.

Like she was fucking hungry.

And needy.

Maybe Emma could finally understand what Calisto meant
when he said he was disgusted with himself for the way he felt. She suddenly
felt dirtier in her own body than she ever had before. It didn’t seem to make a
difference that she was married and carrying her husband’s child, just being
close to Calisto turned her on.

She knew that telling Calisto to keep his distance was
the right thing to do.

Calisto’s hold around her waist tightened.

Emma decided not to say a thing.

 

 

“Where’s Matteo?” Affonso asked. “Your boy always
makes for good conversation, Carl.”

Carl Calabrese laughed loudly, waving his fork full of
pancake over his plate. “I knew you liked him more than me, Affonso.”

“He’s young. A little mouthy, but decent.”

“Mouthy is one way to put it,” Carl replied.

Calisto smirked, but quickly hid it with his palm.
Emma had still seen it.

“He’s off with that wife his,” Carl added, shrugging.
“The baby is due in a few months.”

“Ah,” Affonso said. “And your wife?”

“She’s helping Courtney get settled into Chicago.
She’ll do her final year of high school out there.”

“I heard she got into a bit of trouble,” Calisto said.

Carl chuckled. “She’s also young.”

Emma couldn’t help but notice how the Calabrese Don
seemed to make excuse after excuse for his children. If there was anything that
was good about Affonso as a father, he didn’t excuse his daughters’ bad
behavior. Emma might not always agree with Affonso’s way of handling his
children’s issues, but he made some kind of effort, no matter how bad it might
end up being.

“And how is married life the second time around
treating you, old friend?” Carl asked Affonso.

Affonso’s hand landed gently on the top of Emma’s
stomach. “Well.”

“The second is always better.”

Emma shuddered, revulsion filling her to the brim.

Affonso chuckled, seemingly unaware of his wife’s
distress. “Especially when they’re younger, hmm?”


Zio
,” Calisto said quietly.

Emma forced herself to stay quiet, and nibble on a
slice of toast. At least with her mouth filled, she wasn’t likely to tell her
husband to shut up. It wouldn’t lead to anything good if she did.

“Oh, calm down, Cal,” Affonso dismissed. “I’m joking.
Emma knows. Right, Emma?”

“Sure,” she said.

Emma drowned out the conversation between Affonso, the
Calabrese boss, and the other men who had come for the breakfast. Their talks
of business, what to expect over the next year, and other things were boring.

The more Emma picked away at her food, the heavier her
stomach felt, and then the nauseous feeling came back with a vengeance. It
rushed her throat, sending her flying up from her chair. The small ache in her
back ratcheted up a notch, shooting straight around her sides and into her
stomach when she stood.

“Emma?” Affonso asked.

“I …” She couldn’t form words.

Something felt off. It didn’t help that her vision was
suddenly swimming, too.

“You okay, Emmy?’ Calisto asked.

She held a hand out, wanting to reassure the faint
questions around her.

Somehow, Emma found her voice. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Affonso grumbled something low before saying, “Cal?”

“Yeah, I’ll take her.”

Emma blinked, her skin heating all over. Calisto’s
hand rested on her wrist, and his fingers held tight. Another deep pain sliced
through her middle, taking her breath away. This time, the pain was familiar.
It didn’t only hurt in her body, but in her heart, too. Her eyes stung with
unshed tears—something was wrong.

She was too scared to say it out loud.

“This way, Emmy,” Calisto said.

Emma stared up at Calisto, finding him watching her
with wary, concerned eyes. She put her hand to the side of her eighteen-week
swell, feeling the tautness of her midsection under her palm. Her stomach was
harder than it normally was. The sudden, sharp cramping made her heart drop to
the floor.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

It shouldn’t be happening.

She was past the danger-zone the doctor talked about.
She was young, and healthy. Everything had seemed fine.

Her body wouldn’t do this to her again, right?

“Emma?”

Emma opened her mouth to say something, but only a
quiet sob escaped. They were far enough from the table, and already walking
down a hallway toward lit signs showcasing bathrooms for both genders.

It didn’t matter, she knew.

Whatever was happening … it was already too late.

 

 

Emma

 

Closing the bathroom stall door behind her, Emma hiked
up the skirt of her dress and sat down on the toilet. In just a couple of quick
minutes, the harmless ache had turned into long, familiar cramps that wrapped
her midsection with each one.

She pulled her panties down to her knees, and froze.
Bright red spots had soaked her white underwear. A trickle of blood began to
make a pathway down her inner thigh.

Emma’s first reaction was to freeze, but her heart
clenched and her lungs stopped working at the same fucking time.

It was happening again.

Her body was failing.

The
baby

A sob caught in her throat, hard and loud. She struck
out with her hand, hitting the metal bathroom stall with a bang. It didn’t help
the anger that was suddenly swirling in her blood.

She ate right. She never touched a drink, or smoked.
She stayed away from Affonso when he puffed on those awful cigars. She
exercised, took her vitamins, and got more than enough rest.

Emma was healthy.

Why was this happening?

What had she done to deserve this?

Hot, wet tears slid down Emma’s cheeks as she sobbed
again. The guilt and shame compounded in her chest. Something was wrong with
her. That was the problem. She wasn’t good enough, or she had done something
terrible to deserve this.

The fear crippled Emma even more than her other
feelings. She was scared to touch the blood staining her leg, but she could
hear the drip-drip-drip of more falling into the toilet bowl. A chill ran down
her spine, and her hands trembled.

It hurt.

In her heart, she
hurt
.

“Calisto,” Emma rasped.

She wanted to yell, but her voice was too weak.
Holding the side of her small swell, Emma tilted her head to the side until it
rested against the stall wall. For a moment, she closed her eyes and breathed
like this wasn’t happening.

“Calisto!”

Her second call of his name was much louder. Her throat
protested, and she let loose another fresh round of cries and tears.

Leather shoes smacked hard against tile. The soft tap
of knuckles hit the outside of the stall.

“Emmy?” Calisto asked.

A brief bite of relief washed through her, but it only
lasted until another stab of pain made her hunch over the toilet, and grab her
stomach.

“Open the door, Emmy,” he demanded.

She blindly waved at the latch, luckily hitting it.
The door swung open almost immediately, and Calisto didn’t bother to stand
there and stare. He was down on his knees in front of her in a flash.

“Something is wrong,” she told him. “Help me.”

Calisto sucked in a ragged breath, his gaze snapping
between the blood in her panties, the smear on her leg, and the tears streaking
down her face. “
Cazzo Cristo
.”

She sobbed at his cursing. “I’m sorry.”

For what, she didn’t know.

Calisto’s hands found her cheeks, and his thumbs swept
over her skin with tender, knowing swipes. “God, no. Don’t be sorry. It’s not
your fault. It’ll ... it’ll be all right, Emmy.”

She shook her head.

It wouldn’t be.

“I’m past the first trimester. They said this wouldn’t
happen again. Why is this happening to me, Cal?”

His fingers trembled against her cheeks. “I don’t
know.”

Agony rippled through Emma’s midsection again, sending
her forward. Calisto wrapped her tight in his embrace, let her hide her tears
and cries in his suit jacket, and rubbed her back as he shushed her.

“I don’t want to lose this baby,” Emma mumbled.

God had already taken one from her.

Wasn’t that enough?

Why take another?

She shattered.

In that moment, she knew there was nothing that could
be done.

It broke her.

“I’m sorry, Emmy,” she heard him say.

 

 

Disoriented wasn’t a good enough word for how Emma
felt. It was almost as if her body had shut down the moment she was rolled into
the back of an ambulance, like her mind didn’t want to deal with what was
happening and it simply turned off.

She was shuffled from a stretcher to a wheelchair, and
then asked to move to another bed. She was poked and prodded by gloved hands,
and sweet, concerned faces shadowed her vision every so often, asking questions
and getting no answers.

Emma barely felt the needle for the IV.

There was bustle in the room, but she didn’t care to
find out who.

The tears still fell. She had started to bite on her
palm to hold back the sobs.

Another hand grazed her cheek, but it was ungloved and
felt familiar.

“Oh,
dolcezza
,” she heard whispered.

Calisto
.

“I have to check,” came a lighter, feminine voice.

Emma tried to blink away the tears and haziness. She
found her body was draped with white, scratchy blankets. The thin hospital
kind. The room had a sterile smell and appearance with its white walls, bright
lights up above, and clean floors.

She took another look around.

“Sweetheart, can you open your legs for me?” the
doctor asked.

Emma ignored her.

What hospital room was she in?

Why was there a heating bassinet for a baby and a
scale?

Another woman in scrubs opened up the door, and stuck
something right below the room number. It was a small, blue drop.

Like a teardrop.

Emma gasped sharply when her knees were pushed apart
and suddenly, a hand was between her thighs. Fingers pressed too deep,
searching and measuring.

“Seven,” she heard say. “She’s seven centimeters.”

“She’s only eighteen weeks,” Calisto growled. “That’s
not even possible.”

Emma sobbed.

“There’s nothing we can do. Not at this stage. I’m
sorry. Maybe if it was just a couple centimeters. Or maybe four or five, we
could place a stitch and put her on bedrest. This is too far. She’s …”

“What?’ Emma croaked.

She knew her face was a mess of tears and matted hair.
They had cut off her dress when she couldn’t even get her own arms to work in
tandem with the nurses around her. She was so out of it.

She couldn’t do this.

“You’re going to have to deliver the baby, Emma,” the
doctor said so quietly that it was barely a breath. “I’m sorry, but the baby is
already pressing down, and your cervix has prematurely begun to open. The baby
is small enough that it won’t wait for you to go the full ten centimeters.”

Emma cried harder.

The doctor couldn’t be saying what she thought she
was.

“Are you fucking telling me that she has to deliver
the baby knowing that … is that what you’re saying?” Calisto demanded.

“Yes.”

“I can’t,” Emma mumbled.

The sympathetic, watery eyes of the young female
doctor didn’t help Emma. It only broke her heart a little more. There was
nothing the woman could do to help, and she didn’t know how to say it.

“I can’t do that,” Emma repeated.

“You can,” the doctor whispered. “If you don’t push,
your body will do it for you. It’s nature’s way of delivering a baby when a mother
is weak. One way or another, the baby will come.”

Emma reached out for something to hold. She found
Calisto’s arm and her fingers dug in. He didn’t tell her to stop, but he
brushed more hair from her face, letting his thumb and fingers linger on her
fevered skin.

The pain was intense, far worse than it had been. She
had ignored the strange twinges that morning when she was trying to use the
bathroom, and the ones from the day before when she talked them over with her
doctor.

Normal
, he’d said.

He said they were fucking normal.

“Please don’t make me do this,” Emma mumbled.

She didn’t want to deliver a baby that would only die.

She didn’t want to leave a hospital with empty arms.

“Please,” Emma breathed.

“I’m sorry.” The doctor jerked a hand at a nurse. “The
gas, get it. It’ll help.”

Emma didn’t bother to fight when they put the mask on
her. The disorientation was back, locking her into a bubble.

She didn’t have to feel there.

She didn’t have to see or think.

It was so much better than pain.

“I’m broken,” she said under the mask.

Something was wrong with her.

Emma turned to find Calisto watching her. Wetness
reflected back in his eyes, and that killed her a little bit more. He wasn’t
supposed to be there, but he was.

“Not broken,” he told her.

She didn’t believe him.

 

 

He’d been smaller than her palm. His limbs were
thinner than her pinky. He never made a sound, although the doctor said that he
probably couldn’t at his gestation. Red-pink skin all over, and almost
translucent in spots. He had ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. He breathed
for less than forty seconds before he stopped.

The doctor had handed over the baby in a white towel.
At first, Emma hadn’t wanted to look at the child. What would it look like,
after all?

It looked like a baby.

Her
baby.

His little chest moved up and down. She was scared to
touch him, he was so small.

But he was alive.

For a short moment, she felt his warm, slick skin, she
watched his struggling breaths, and he lived.

And then he didn’t.

That was the hardest. It was worse than delivering a
baby she knew wouldn’t survive. It was worse than feeling like she was alone on
a kitchen floor all over again.

BOOK: Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines Book 2)
11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Gluttony: A Dictionary for the Indulgent by Adams Media Corporation
The Shadow Queen A Novel by Sandra Gulland
Princess Ces'alena by Keyes, Mercedes
Diary of a Working Girl by Daniella Brodsky
Going All the Way by Cynthia Cooke
The Jewel and the Key by Louise Spiegler
Redemption (Book 6) by Ben Cassidy