Page 50 of Reckless Woman
He was there for all of them.
I see that rose again now. My father is holding it out to me, but his face is all blurry. One half of the rose is dripping crimson blood and the other is charred-gray and wilted, like two halves that will never be whole.
When he finally speaks, it’s with an accent from my nightmares.
“My brother’s whore, I presume?”
I know those words.
I know that memory
Before I can piece it together, I’m back in the safe, dark bubble of Ella’s nursery. My little girl is still asleep. Her head is turned to the side, flattening her black curls. Her brown bear is tucked under her chin.
“She’s cute,” says a voice suddenly.
My breath catches sharply in surprise. There’s a woman standing in the doorway. She’s silhouetted by the mid-afternoon sun so I can’t see her face, but I can tell she’s beautiful. It’s there in her stance—exuding the kind of confidence I’d kill for. The rest of her is tall and slender, with curves in all the right places.
“C-can I help you?”
Am I dreaming still?
“I came to say ‘hi’.”
Her voice is laced with an accent that’s heavier than Dante’s.
I go to pull myself up from Ella’s nursery chair when a fresh contraction hits me like a runaway train. “Ooh crap,” I wail, doubling over.
“You okay?”
It’s a reflex response.She doesn’t give a damn.She hasn’t budged from the doorway, and there’s an icy detachment to her voice that reminds me so much of—
“Shit!” Instead of easing up, the contraction seems to be gathering momentum. “Where’s Dante?” I manage to gasp out.
“On the phone in his office.”
“To my doctors?”
“No idea.”
Great. I’m stuck in labor with a stonewalling stranger.
“Can you call him, please?”
“Yeah, I will in a minute. It’s not like you’re crowning or anything.” She glances at Ella again and my Mama tiger instinct kicks in harder than any labor pain.
I want her away from Ella.
I want her gone from that doorway.
I go to stand, to slam the door on her, and then a second contraction is crashing down on top of the first one with no let-up.
Oh, boy.
I drop back into the chair because standing is impossible now.
“Sofía…”
“Is that the maid?” She runs her fingers up and down the door frame. “Yeah, she’s making me lunch. I had a really shitty breakfast and I’m starving.”