Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Angelo stares at me for a beat longer before taking a step back. He turns to my father, and he’s trembling, his face red, barely holding back his rage. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I am.”
“I know that I can help my daughter more than you ever could. I’ve raised a child once already, and I can raise a second. I have money, I have security, I have stability. What can you offer?”
“I don’t—” Angelo starts and stops himself. “You just told her you want to handle this problem. I know what that means. You want to kill my baby. I’m the father. That’s my baby.” His eyes move to my stomach and his lips are pulled back.
But I don’t want him to look at me,
I never wanted this to happen. I knew putting off telling him the truth while also getting closer to him would backfire eventually, but I kept hoping something would happen to take the decision out of my hands. I kept thinking, maybe I’ll tell him, maybe I’ll let him find out, and it would be ugly and hard, but we’d get past it and move on eventually. Only I didn’t know how he’d handle finding out the truth, and I was afraid that it would only push him away when whatever we have brewing between us is still so fragile.
I didn’t want to risk losing him.
Now I see how stupid and naive I’ve been.
Angelo doesn’t want to be a father. He barely wants to be a boyfriend. This man is wild, careless, beautiful and incredible, but also dangerous. Dad’s words keep playing in my ears. I don’t want my child to grow up in the shadow of his gangster father. I don’t want my child to visit their father in prison.
I want my child to have a future like mine.
“I can help you,” Dad says softly and puts a hand on my shoulder. I flinch, but I don’t pull away. I close my eyes, crying. “Come home with me. Your mother and I are disappointed, but we love you, Sara. We can help with this baby, but only if you swear you won’t speak to this man ever again. We’ll hire nannies, we’ll get you diapers and bottles and a crib, and you won’t have to give up your life for this baby if that’s the decision you make. But please, honey. Let me help you.”
I open my eyes again and Angelo’s standing there, jaw tight, looking at me like he’s going to break.
And I know how he feels.
Because I’m feeling it too.
I think I’m going to crack open and shatter. It’s like there are two halves of me, each fighting for control.
There’s the Sara I’ve always been, the rule-follower, the good girl, the straight-A student, the honor roll overachiever, the girl that wants to go home and sleep in her old bed and let Mom and Dad tell her what to do.
Then there’s the new Sara, the one that’s falling for this strange gangster, this violent thug, this clever and funny and gorgeous man, the new Sara that wants to be free of her old life, that wants to find something new and perfect and all mine.
Both parts of me want opposite things and I don’t know how I can survive.
“That’s too much,” I say and wipes my eyes. “I can’t—he’s the father. I can’t just cut him off.”
“You can,” Dad says. “If you want your baby to have a chance, you will.”
“Sara,” Angelo says, and he opens his mouth as if he wants to explain something, as if he wants to beg me to stay with him—and I want him to say it, I want him to ask me to stay, to ask me to give him a chance, to beg and plead and make me believe him, and if he does then I will, I know I will— but the words dissipate and he only shakes his head. “Don’t give up your life for me.”
My stomach twists and the tears come faster, heavier, thicker. I want to drown in these tears. The room blurs, and I never want to see the world again.
“See, honey? Even he knows this is the right choice.” Dad steers me away toward the door. “Come on. Come home. We’ll talk about your options and we’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is leave him behind.”
Leave Angelo behind.
The moment things were beginning to turn—now I’m walking away.
But I’m doing it for my baby.
I don’t want this. If I could have it my way, I’d stay here in this hotel with Angelo and explore this new version of myself that’s only just beginning to blossom. I want to revel in freedom with him, in a physical and visceral experience I’ve never felt before. I want him and all of him, unmediated, closer than I ever thought possible.