Page 24 of Forbidden Pregnancy (The Buffalo Italian Mob Family #2)

Chapter Twenty

Myra

W e made a deal. I won’t make my final choice about leaving until after the baby.

Michael plans on doing everything in his power to convince me not to leave him, and so far, I don’t think anything will work.

He doesn’t understand the painful choice I had to make when I was twenty-six years old and completely in love with him.

I won’t choose him over keeping our baby safe. I know Michael will keep his promise to provide for our baby, and that will have to be enough. I was never meant for romance – clearly. God gave me twenty-six long years of going without before my brief encounter with Michael.

Every sign in my life has pointed to this – if I was ever meant to have a child at all, I would have to have that child alone.

I mean… the freak accident at the clinic couldn’t have been anything other than divine intervention. I can’t exactly claim CC’s behavior was divine intervention, but it certainly was out of the ordinary enough that I’m going to read it as a sign.

I’m not at risk of changing my mind at all, but I would be lying if I said that the thoughts of leaving are getting harder the more my body changes.

I am undeniably pregnant now. The part of my brain that wants to deny I’m carrying Michael’s baby has to acknowledge that he’s the reason that baby is here.

My last chance to have a baby and I end up in Michael Corsini’s bed,

I know Michael remembers it one way, but it’s not just that we had a fight and I didn’t come back. I didn’t just stay away because I was afraid of my feelings, despite what he thinks. I’m just not the type of woman to force my feelings to become his problem.

Lately, Michael and I have been arguing over the sex of the baby.

Neither of us care that deeply about our baby’s genitals, but I want to know.

Michael doesn’t. He thinks interacting with a doctor is far too risky for us to bother, but I don’t want this special moment of my pregnancy to slip by me.

This baby is enough of a miracle as it is, but Michael doesn’t see it that way.

Since our new safe house is somewhere in the middle of the Pennsylvania wilderness, we barely have a phone signal, have no cable, and Michael thinks that watching him workout should be a sufficiently stimulating hobby for me along with reading old Stephen King novels.

I can’t take naps in comfy chairs until the baby comes and it seems like a symptom of declining mental health that I’m considering asking Michael to take out the 1,000 piece Finger Lakes Map puzzle with me.

Ugh. He’s still sleeping in our shared bedroom – thank goodness.

My peace and quiet doesn’t last long as I hear Michael’s body roll out of bed.

He drops to the floor and completes his afternoon routine of 250 crunches, 250 pushups, and 250 jumping jacks.

It’s a loud, obnoxious routine that I have no interest in participating in.

When Michael exits the bedroom, desperate for attention, I keep my nose firmly fixed in the tattered copy of Doctor Sleep I’ve been reading ever since I finally got the courage to finish up The Shining.

Michael struts right in front of me in his underwear, purposefully seeking my attention.

I get it – he’s sweaty, muscular, and normally horny in the mornings.

That doesn’t mean I need to drop everything and whine for his attention. Michael grabs the book out of my hands like the uncouth beast that he is. I glare at him, ready to snatch it back or at least give him a firm kick in the thighs. He smiles when he notices my anger. Annoying bastard.

“Cosima will be here this evening,” Michael says. “I thought a friend might cheer you up.”

I suspect he has another reason for dragging Cosima out here, but I bite my tongue. I’ve been stuck with just Michael for company and even if I love talking to a former football player with mafia ties and a gambling habit, we tend not to spend too much time talking before Michael gets distracted.

It’s getting to be… overwhelming. And even more confusing than our typical interactions – which have never failed to confuse me since the first day Michael kissed me. I wonder what his angle really is with Cosima, but I don’t really know how to ask that question.

“How is she getting here?”

Maybe he’s doing this because our location got exposed again.

I shiver, despite Michael’s protective closeness.

The thought of another kidnapping doesn’t exactly sit peacefully.

Considering my past with Michael, I have my suspects.

He’s in the mob – this was his family and my deeper instincts know it.

If Cosima knows where we are, maybe we aren’t safe.

I can’t tell if it’s the baby flipping around in my lower abdomen or instincts throbbing in the deepest parts of my gut.

Michael leans forward and kisses the top of my head.

It’s not as reassuring as he thinks it is, even if this white boy’s lips are so damned soft.

I don’t need more reasons to lose sleep, but the thought of exposing my position again genuinely scares the crap out of me.

It’s not like I can get Michael’s honesty about the threat his family poses.

It’s been weeks since I brought it up and he still won’t fully admit that his family was behind my kidnapping.

“It’s secure,” he says. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“What about the doctor’s appointment?”

“I changed my mind,” Michael says. “Too risky”

There it is. He’s dangling Cosima in front of me because he doesn’t want me to find out the baby’s sex. I scowl at Michael and he sighs.

“I’m not trying to be cruel.”

“Why does it feel like I’m a captive?”

For the first time since we got here, Michael loosens up. He gives some hint about what happened, and I wish he told me sooner.

“My family will not accept us.”

This part isn’t news.

“I know that.”

“You don’t understand,” he says. “These are not normal people. They’re Italians.”

“Pretty racist, Michael.”

“It’s not about race,” he says. “It’s about our culture. My family culture. We aren’t a normal Italian family either.”

“So what does that mean, then? We’re always going to be on the run?”