Page 99 of Single Malt Drama
Nicolina
The white plasticstick sat on the bathroom counter, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. I’d waffled between anger and wonder since Giancarlo had asked if I was pregnant. Anger, because I couldn’t help but wish I’d told Marco. He should be here holding my hand, sweating out the test results with me. Thanks to my brother, my husband was bleeding and unconscious in the middle of the bayou.
The wonder I felt kept me sane. I couldn’t help but imagine what mine and Marco’s child would be like. He or she would have dark hair and olive skin—that much was given—but would they inherit his startling green eyes? Would they be funny and carefree like their father? Or more reserved like me?
Giancarlo knocked on the plastic lavatory door. “Nico, are you okay? You’ve been in there for ten minutes. We’ve been cleared for takeoff.”
“I’m waiting for the results.”
I’d heard rumors about my brother since I was a little girl. People whispered his name the way they spoke of l’uomo Nero, the Italian version of the boogeyman. As a child, I’d gone out of my way to avoid him when he’d come home from boarding school. As a grown woman, I’d done much of the same.
Now that I’d spent a couple of hours with him, I wondered how much of the rumors were true. He’d held me while I cried and when I threw up. Not many men would do that, especially not ruthless killers.
His voice softened. “Open the door. I’ll wait with you.”
I turned the lock. “Come in. It’s time, but I can’t do it. Tell me what it says.”
Giancarlo ignored the pregnancy test and crouched in front of me. “Are you afraid that pretty husband of yours won’t be happy with the news?”
“Marco. His name is Marco, and no, that’s not it. He will be thrilled.” I chewed my lower lip.
“And you? How do you feel about this?” He reached for the stick without taking his eyes off me.
“I thought I wanted to have a baby, but now that it’s a real possibility, I’m scared.” I fought hard to keep my tears at bay. “I don’t know how to be a mother. I’ve never had one.”
He flinched as if I’d jabbed a needle into his chest. “You had one, a wonderful one.”
We’d never spoken of our mother, or much else for that matter, but he was the oldest. He’d had more time with her than any of my siblings. “What was she like?”
He drew a shaky breath. “You. She was like you. Beautiful, stubborn, and strong.”
Nodding, I glanced away.
Giancarlo checked the test and let out a little shout of joy or surprise or relief. I couldn’t tell which.
I shrank back from him and the stick. “What does it say?”
“It’s positive.” His expression grew serious. “Nico, you don’t have to do this alone. The family will support you.”
Alone? Is he insane? “Thank you, but Marco is going to be as amazing a father as he is a husband.”
The warmth seeped from his eyes. He stood, tossed the pregnancy test into the sink, and folded his arms. “We are leaving in five minutes. You should go to your seat.”
I stared after him, unable to make sense of his ever-changing personality. Pressing a hand to my stomach, I prayed for my unborn child, Marco, and for clarity in handling my brother.
After splashing water on my face and pulling myself together, I took my seat in the main cabin.
Giancarlo watched me clip the belt around my waist.
I’d grown up surrounded by security guards. For the most part, I’d learned to ignore them and conduct myself as if they were nothing more than furniture. However, these men were loyal to my father, and given my current predicament, I didn’t feel comfortable speaking in front of them.
Forcing a smile, I said, “I’m tired. Would it be all right with you if I slept in the master suite after we’re in the air?”
“Of course.” He spoke without sparing a glance in my direction.
“Will you join me?” I caught a couple of the security guards glaring and frowned. “I’d like to speak to you, alone.”
Giancarlo shut them down with a glare. “Yes, we should talk.”