Bellissimo Fortuna (Beautiful Fortune) (21 page)

“That’s fine.” Oh, dear trusting Callie . . . that is your first mistake of the day.

“I’ll be right back,” he nods towards me and shuts the door behind him.

I start at her calves, not applying too much pressure but work my way up to the back of her knees. I see her shiver and goose bumps break out on her skin. My touch is getting to her, she didn’t respond like this with the professional. Maybe she hasn’t forgotten me after all and that spurs me on. I sweep the back of my hands over her thighs to just under her ass and then back again. She shifts on the table and I go to the balls of her feet, easy-going yet firm pressure with my thumbs. I watch as she arcs her back and move up her legs again. I want my mouth to follow my fingers but I restrain myself not wanting to scare her. I rub her neck, shoulders, and upper back. I did this many of nights and it was always so sensual and allowed me to touch every inch of her skin. The towel is barely covering her ass and I let my fingers brush it aside, casually. I hear her gasp but return to rubbing her muscles and feel her relax again. Sweet Jesus, she is in a coral thong, the same color she wore the night I claimed her body.

I can’t control myself, bend down, and graze my lips over her shoulder. “Um, excuse me?” I can tell she is uncomfortable as well as aroused.

“You were so eager to have my attention last night.” I break my silence.

She flips over, “Bronson?” Her eyes search my face and then she realizes her mistake. She has nothing on but a scrap of underwear. She immediately covers herself and I let out a groan. Her body is not a sight that should ever be covered to me. “What are you doing here?” she whispers.

“I have not a clue,” I admit as I crush my mouth to hers. She doesn’t fight me, and opens to my assault willingly. My body feels as if it’s been going through a drought and her body is a field of water, immediately covering her and melting into it. I capture the sounds coming from her mouth and revel in delight that I can still make her respond to me. Her hands are tangled in each other behind my neck and my hand goes to her breast and pussy at the same time. She is so wet, I snap. Shoving two fingers inside her, I swallow her gasp of surprise and pleasure. It’s too much yet not enough. A door closing down the hall reminds me where I am and whom I’m finger fucking. I pull away like I’ve had scalding hot water thrown at me, disgusted with how easily I fell into her trap.

“Does Angelo turn you on like that?” Her look of confusion makes me want to laugh in her face.

“N-n-no.” she stammers. I hope to hell she doesn’t start the waterworks because I don’t think I could leave if she did. I have to admit, she still has a hold on me. “How do you know about Angelo?”

“Bianca told me you love some guy. Was he supposed to be a secret?”

“Never.” She is adamant. “But it isn’t what you are thinking.”

“Oh, so now I’m mistaken?” I feel like an ass but the pain is bubbling out of me.

“Yes, you are. Let me get dressed and then I’ll explain.” Her timid manner is disarming me and I don’t want to give her the upper hand.

“Yes, telling me about the man you love while sitting her naked after my fingers were inside of you really isn’t appropriate is it?”

“Damn it, Bronson. Stop treating me like this.”

“You lost all rights to my kindness when you left.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. But I don’t think I’m going to stick around and listen to the story of you falling in love.”

“You have it wrong. I did fall in love but not the way you think. Angelo . . .” I cut her off.

“I don’t want to hear about Angelo or anything else out of your lying mouth.”

“He’s our son,” her words freeze my actions of walking out the door. Stops my heart and chills me to the bones. Our son. She was carrying my child . . . my son when she left?

“How old?”

“Almost eleven months,” the tears are running down her face.

“Get dressed,” I bellow. The sound pulsates off the walls and echoing in my ears. I see her jump but I don’t care. “You have about five minutes, Callie.” I storm out the door and wait outside the room for her. She timidly opens the door and I grab her arm, pulling her behind me straight out the door towards my car. “Get in.” I demand of her, and I watch as she does without any argument.

I slam my door behind me. “Where is my son?” I seem to have shocked her into a comatose state. “Callie, where in the fuck is my son.”

“A-at the h-hotel with a nanny,” she stutters.

“Which hotel?” She rattles off the name, and I shoot a text to Bianca letting her know where her counterpart is before taking off like a bat out of hell.

She attempts to open her mouth, but I stop her. “Not now.” I don’t want to hear a word she has to say. This is so much worse than I could have ever imagined. I thought leaving me, breaking us up was bad, but to know she was carrying my child and put both of them in danger with no regard to me and my feelings is too much for me to process.

We reach the hotel and she speaks, “Don’t scare him. I won’t stop you from seeing him but you need a minute to get yourself under control while I let the nanny go.” She’s right and I hate to admit it. I watch her walk to the room and enter while I inhale, exhale, and count to ten. The gravity of the situation hits me . . . I’m about to meet our child for the first time. Then the waves of anger wash over me again when I realize he is almost a year old and I’ve never seen him. The photograph Frank had in his hand . . . if she let him anywhere near my son there will be hell to pay. I hurry across the lot and enter the room as some woman exits. Nodding at her, I search the room and I see Callie holding my clone. From his eyes to his complexion, his nose to his mouth . . . it’s like staring into a mirror.

I cross over to where she is standing and take in the sight. One I dreamed about for years, but never like this. He is staring back up at me, just as mesmerized as I am. “Angelo, this is your daddy.”

“Da-da-da-da-da,” and my heart seizes. I don’t have air in my lungs; I stare in wonder.

I reach out a finger to stroke his chubby cheek and he grips onto it, moving it into his mouth. Callie lets out a nervous chuckle, “Sorry, he’s teething,” she tries to dislodge my finger from his mouth.

“Stop,” I want this. I want this moment unscripted and not tainted by her voice. I watch as he gnaws on my finger, his eyes as round as saucers staring back to me. I smile at him, and he returns it with his toothless grin. My heart starts beating again in this moment. A few minutes pass, and we are studying each other when he abruptly lets go of my finger and turns into her neck whimpering.

She consoles him, “He’s ready for his bottle and nap.” I step back, reminded I have no clue his likes or dislikes, or what his schedule is. “Be at the house in an hour.” I quietly close the door behind me so I don’t startle Angelo and I let the emotion overtake me. I get behind the wheel of my car, head to my mom’s to tell her the news, the entire time fighting back tears and wiping away the few stray ones that leak out.

How did this happen? For the first time I don’t answer myself with Frank Locati. Today the answer is Callie Locati. I’m met at the door by Bianca, “Where did you take her? Where is she?” Then she notices my face and without question embraces me. I can’t fight the feelings then and let the tears come. My mom walks in on this scene and leads us both to the couch.

“Where were you?” My mother probes.

“Meeting my son,” I take in a shaky breath. “She was pregnant when she left. I have a son.”

“Fuck,” Dakota whispers behind me. I look at him and realize there are a lot of gaps to fill in.

Callie

I stare down at my son sleeping and take a quick breath, unclasp his seat belt and lift the carrier to head towards the door. I don’t get a chance to knock before the door is flung inward and Bianca is staring at me. I see excitement, happiness, and underneath it all is the hurt I never wanted to be responsible for. She ushers me in and immediately is taken by her nephew. She stares at his sleeping form, “He’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” is all I can choke out.

“You’re a mom.” Her voice holds a tinge of astonishment. I’m sure this hasn’t all sunk in for them and again the fear threatens to overtake me. Bronson steps into the hallway and takes the carrier from me. I want to argue, tell him not to swing it too much or he’ll wake him up, but I refrain. He’s his dad; he’ll have to learn just like I did.

“I’m going to get the portable crib from the back of the car and his diaper bag,” I move towards the door when Dakota shows up and follows behind me.

“Is this what you wouldn’t tell me? Your ace in the hole?”

I nod. “Damn it, why? A kid? That’s monumental, Callie. A game changer.”

“I know.” I won’t give anyone an explanation until I give it to Bronson. We get the gear and head back to the house.

“Keep it together, it’s going to get brutal. He is blinded by so many things right now he’s lost sight of the love he has for you. It’s there, but you’ll have to shovel a lot of shit to get to it.”

“That’s not why I came back, Dakota.”

“Bullshit, Callie. You may not have come back expecting a reconciliation but you did come back because you love him and didn’t want to rob him of anymore time. You loved him enough to have his kid, fight for his safety and take care of both of you while you bid your time. I see it; I understand it. I hate it but you did the right thing. None of us knows what would have happened. I just know it’s going to get rough and if you need anything let me know. I’ve been waiting for the day to lay his surly ass out for a while.” I smile at him. It’s nice to see some things never change.

“Thanks, Dakota.” I press my hand into my sternum; the stubborn pain is persistent today.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

Gianna is holding Angelo when I walk in. She smiles at me and motions me over to her. She stands with my son in her arms, a serene smile on her face, and kisses my cheek. “Perfect. You did well, Callie. Thank you.” And for the first and only time in my life I get to watch a grandparent fall in love with my child. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying. This isn’t my moment; it’s theirs. I look towards Bronson and see the love shining from him, until he looks at me and shuts down. He is impenetrable . . . like fucking Alcatraz right now. His gaze doesn’t stay on mine for longer than five seconds, like the sight of me is more than he can bear. I’m not ready to offer to leave my child there for a few hours to give them some time; it’s still all too new.

“Sit down,” Bianca pats the seat next to her. “Catch me up.” I cringe. She is ignoring the tension in the room. Bronson is making it very clear that he isn’t happy about my return.

I try to communicate to Bianca to be a bit more sensitive and she shakes her head at me. She’s always gone head first into every situation. “Well, without going in to the details right now, I was in a small town in Mississippi.”

“Really? How was that?”

“How do you think? It sucked, I wasn’t myself and all alone.” I hear Bronson scoff under his breath and jerk my head up to him. He may be pissed and hurt but he doesn’t get to act like he was the only one affected by that. “I have a meeting with the agency tomorrow to give them details, and until I explain to Bronson nobody else will get full details.”

“Don’t take my feelings into account this time. Please share your experiences with us.” His condescending tone cuts right through me.

“Bronson!” Gianna exclaims, shocked at his behavior.

“It’s fine. He’s entitled to his opinion.” I face him, “What you aren’t entitled to is to act like this in front of Angelo. Or to act like I wasn’t hurt in all this, either. You don’t have to accept or believe my feelings but you won’t dismiss them. You won’t treat me like this in front of him.” I nod towards our son. I’m seething, he can either bring out the best or worst in me depending on what mood he puts me in. I know if my feelings weren’t so strong for him it wouldn’t matter but that’s what he can’t see; I didn’t do any of this to hurt him . . . any of them for that matter . . . it was all for their benefit and until his stubborn ass wants to hear it he will continue to believe that he is the only victim. I guess it’s true what they say about good intentions. I guess I am now walking on that road to hell.

“Take a walk,” Dakota tells him. Bronson stares between me and his son, a war waging behind his eyes. He doesn’t want to leave his son, probably afraid I’ll take him and run, but he definitely doesn’t want to be in my vicinity. I sigh. I can do this.

“I’ll walk outside. If you need me, I’ll be out back.” I tell Gianna. I know she is a great mom, but this is my son and I’ve been the only one with him so I know his cries, his quirks.

“We’ll be fine, but you don’t have to.” I nod at her. I do have to. “Okay, I’ll get you if I need you.” I walk outside and look at the dock, the boat slip still sitting empty and I relive some moments. My birthday, the boat rides, the stolen kisses; all happy times and in just a few hours they are being shrouded by the animosity that surrounds our new situation.

Footsteps approaching behind me interrupt my moment of solace, and I’m grateful because it was about to turn into a full-blown pity party. “Sorry my brother’s a dick.”