Page 17

Chapter Seventeen: Dante

I t took me a few long seconds to figure out what she said.

I already knew we were going to have a baby–obviously–but the fact that we now knew he was going to be a little boy made this so much more real and scary.

The winter sun peeked through the sheer curtains of Jade’s dining room, casting a soft glow over the half-eaten croissants and empty coffee mugs. I sat back in the creaky wooden chair, my legs stretched out, still clad in the pajamas I’d borrowed from her drawer—ones with little anchors that seemed to mock my current state of drifting uncertainty.

“Hey.” Jade’s voice pulled me back, her hand gentle on mine. “You went quiet all of a sudden.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, rubbing a thumb over the dark wood of the table, a stark reminder of the distance between my world and this quaint Harbor Cove apartment. The news hung between us like a fog; we were having a son. A little boy. It was supposed to be a moment of pure joy, yet I felt robbed—robbed of the chance to hear it firsthand, to be there beside her when she found out.

“Talk to me, Dante,” she urged softly, her eyes—the color of the stormy sea—searching my face for signs of the tempest within me.

I managed a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Just trying to wrap my head around it. A boy, huh?” The words felt clumsy, foreign on my tongue.

She leaned forward, her tank top stretching slightly across her chest, and the shirt she wore unbuttoned at the top billowed as she moved. “Yeah, a boy,” she said, her voice a mixture of wonder and worry. “Are you...disappointed? I know you wanted a girl.”

“No, I said a girl might be nice. But I’m not.”

“You seem a little disappointed.”

I almost scoffed. “No. No, it’s not that. It’s just—“ I hesitated, glimpsing the flicker of fear in her gaze and hating myself for putting it there. “It’s just a lot to process, you know? Becoming a dad to a mini version of me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” There was a teasing lilt to her voice now, an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re not all that bad.”

I found her gaze. “I always knew you were brilliant. The fact that you’re incredibly kind too always seems to throw me for a loop.”

“You really aren’t all that bad,” she said softly.

“Depends on who you ask,” I replied, letting out a chuckle that felt good, real. “But honestly, Jade, I’m just pissed at myself for not being there. For missing out on things already.”

Her hand squeezed mine, her touch reassuring despite the chill seeping in from the early morning air. “We’ll have other moments, Dante. Plenty of them.”

“Together?” I asked.

She didn’t answer me. “I wanted to tell you. I hope you aren’t angry with me.”

“How could I be angry with you? I’m angry at myself. I can’t believe everything’s gotten so complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t begin to cover it,” Jade said, her lips curving into a wry smile. But the smile didn’t quite chase away the concern in her eyes, the silent questions about our future lingering in the space between us.

“True,” I admitted, my own worries clawing their way up my throat. “But hey, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing worth having comes easy.”

“Spoken like a true Moretti.” Her laughter held a hint of sadness, a melody that resonated deep within me.

“Can’t escape who I am,” I murmured, my resolve hardening. “But I can damn well make sure it doesn’t define our kid.”

“Or me,” Jade added quietly, pulling back her hand to tuck a stray wave behind her ear.

“Especially you,” I affirmed, my voice firm with a promise I intended to keep. No matter what it took.

The morning light spilled across the tiny dining table, casting her face in a soft glow that belied the tension between us.

“Jade,” I started, my voice low, searching for the right words without letting too much slip. “How did you even know it’s a boy? With everything going on...”

She glanced up from her own half-eaten pastry, decaf coffee cup cradled in her hands. “Prenatal appointments,” she explained, a clinical edge to her tone that always surfaced when she spoke of her work or anything remotely scientific. “I’ve been going whenever I can sneak out. They did a genetic test and, you know, an ultrasound.”

“Of course.” My chair scraped against the floor as I leaned in closer. “And I wasn’t there,” I muttered, more to myself than to her. It was a bitter pill to swallow, the knowledge that she had tried to escape me, and understandably so.

“Would you have wanted to be?” Her question was a soft challenge, eyes locking with mine.

“Every damn appointment,” I confessed, the truth of it hitting me square in the chest. The desire to be involved was like a punch to the gut, an ache I hadn’t let myself feel until this moment.

“Even though I tried to leave you?” She didn’t blink, her question hanging heavy in the space between us.

“Especially then,” I said, my voice firm despite the uncertainty clawing at me. “I would’ve found a way, Jade. For you. For him.”

She nodded slowly, setting down her coffee with a quiet clink against the saucer. “Okay,” she whispered, the weight of our conversation settling over us like the early winter chill creeping through the windowpane. “But…”

“You should have told me you were going to the city. I would’ve taken you to the hospital myself.”

“Look, Dante,” she started, her voice barely above the hum of the refrigerator, “I know you want to help, but do you really think I can just go back to the city when…when everything is so complicated there?”

“I assume the clinic here isn’t spectacular if you aren’t going to it.”

“Harbor Cove is safe,” she continued, her fingers tracing the rim of her decaf coffee mug, “but it’s not just about location. It’s everything. You know why I’m here, away from the city’s... madness.”

“Jade,” I interrupted gently, feeling the weight of fatherhood tightening my chest. “I’ll support you both financially. This kid will have everything he needs, I swear it.”

“I don’t need your money.”

“Of course you do,” I said. “I’m not going to be some deadbeat dad who doesn’t give a damn. I’m in this, all the way. Harbor Cove or not, our son is going to grow up knowing his father didn’t just stand by.”

Jade pushed her plate away, the half-eaten croissant leaving flakes of pastry scattered like confetti on the white porcelain. The morning light filtering through the window illuminated her determined face as she met my gaze head-on.

“I don’t need your money, Dante,” she said, her voice steady with resolve. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, and I can take care of our son too.”

“Jade,” I started, but she held up a hand, silencing me.

“Listen to me,” she continued, her eyes alight with that fiery independence I’d always admired. “This is not about pride or ego. It’s about making sure that my—our child grows up knowing the value of hard work, not just the weight of inherited wealth.”

I leaned back in my chair, the worn wood creaking under my weight. “You think I want him to be some spoiled brat?” I asked, frustration creeping into my voice. “I’m talking about security, stability. He shouldn’t have to want for anything.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the burden of the world had chosen that moment to rest upon them. “But at what cost, Dante? Your life...it comes with strings attached, dangerous ones. Harbor Cove may be a haven now, but what about later?”

“Is staying here what you really want?” I pressed, searching her face for clues.

“I don’t know if I have a choice,” she murmured, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the grain of the wooden table.

At her words, a weight settled over me, thick as the fog that rolled in off the bay. I buried my head in my hands, my mind racing with the implications of what she wasn’t saying. Harbor Cove was more than just a scenic escape—it was a line drawn in the sand, a barrier against the life I led. And I was beginning to realize that maybe it wasn’t just the city she was trying to escape from.

I forked the last crumb of croissant into my mouth, feeling the buttery flakes dissolve on my tongue. The morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains of Jade’s dining room, casting a soft glow on her face. She looked ethereal, almost too pure for the world I came from—a world that could stain even the brightest souls.

“Right,” I said, clearing my throat, trying to shift the focus. “That’s what we need to talk about.” I watched her, noting the way her fingers wrapped around the mug of decaf coffee, a shield against whatever I might say next.

She waited for me.

“Jade, have you ever heard about something called RICO?”