Chapter 2

"Fine. Fine. Happy now? You don't have to make a scene about everything."

Dante grabs the bag and follows us out. My parents and my brother are already downstairs, pale, ready, watching the clock.

My father takes one look at me and his face drops.

"Why are you still here? Move."

We almost make it to the door.

Bianca touches her hair and freezes.

"I forgot to curl it." She looks genuinely distressed, like this is a real problem. "Just a few more minutes. I'll be so quick."

My mother keeps her voice careful. "Why don't you stay and get ready? We'll take Elena ahead. You can meet us there."

Bianca is already plugging in the curling iron.

"No, I want to be there from the start. I'm the godmother. I have to be first to hold her." She catches my eye in the mirror and smiles. "Elena won't mind. Right?"

The pain is constant now. Not waves. Just pressure, building and not letting go.

"Elena minds." My brother's voice cuts across the room. "Get in the car or stay home."

Bianca's hand stills on the curling iron. Her lip wobbles.

"Why are you yelling at me? I'm trying. You think I wanted this to happen today?" Her voice climbs. "I didn't even get to prep properly. I'm not the bad guy here."

My mother stops trying. She takes my arm and steers me toward the elevator.

My brother and father run ahead to pull the car around.

Dante walks back into the living room.

"Take your time. Don't burn yourself."

My mother turns and looks at him. Long and slow. The kind of look that doesn't need words.

I lean against the wall and breathe.

Mia kicks. Hard. Desperate. Like she knows.

Another contraction folds me in half.

Dante comes over and pushes me back down onto the sofa.

"Stop performing. I know what you're doing. You want me to drop everything and prove you come first." His voice drops, almost soft. "Bianca's almost done. Five more minutes."

I let the contraction pass.

"The day we were supposed to make it official — you made us wait for her. She overslept. The window closed. We are still not legally bound, Dante."

"Our wedding — she showed up hungover and made us miss the whole window."

"And today."

I look at him.

"So I'm asking you one time. Do you choose me and Mia? Or do we wait for Bianca?"

His jaw locks.

"You're using our baby to score points?"

Bianca gasps from across the room, one hand over her mouth.

"Wow, Elena. I had no idea you kept score like that." She sets down the curling iron and picks up a makeup brush. "Honestly, I feel bad. I'll just finish my face real quick — two minutes — and we go. Deal?"

I watch her.

She said just a wash. Then a dry. Then a curl. Now foundation.

I know this routine. Foundation. Liner. Then she'll want a different outfit. We'll be here another hour.

It's 10:40.

Fresh fluid soaks through the pad the midwife gave me. It's streaked with red.

I stop looking at them.

I bite down on my lip. I don't make a sound.

"Take your time," I say quietly. "I'm done waiting."