Page 15 of Mafia Pregnancy

We leave the park after five more minutes on the swing and stop at a store on the walk back to my apartment.

The pharmacy is busy, filled with people picking up prescriptions and buying everyday necessities.

I stand in the family planning aisle, staring at the wall of pregnancy tests with growing panic.

Leo is examining the candy display near the front of the store, completely oblivious to the crisis unfolding around him. Carmen stands beside me, patient and supportive, waiting for me to make a decision. “Which one?” I ask, feeling paralyzed by this choice, which is dumb.

“Get two different brands to be sure.”

I grab the tests with shaking hands and hurry toward the checkout counter, hoping we can get through this without Leo asking too many questions. He’s at the age where everything is fascinating and worthy of investigation.

Predictably, when I set the boxes on the counter, he asks, “What’s that, Mama?”

“Just something I need to check at home.” I hand the cashier exact change, avoiding eye contact. “Nothing important.”

We stop for ice cream cones and eat them on the walk home Back at the apartment, I send Leo to his room to play while Carmen waits in the living room.

The pregnancy tests sit on the bathroom counter like tiny instruments of fate, capable of changing everything with two pink lines.

I already know how to take them, having been in this position once before.

I pee in a cup and dip both, then set the tests aside and wait for the longest three minutes of my life.

When the timer on my phone goes off, I close my eyes and take a deep breath before looking down.

Positive. Both of them.

I lean against the bathroom counter, gripping the edge until my knuckles turn white. Ten weeks ago, I made a decision that felt inevitable in the moment and necessary in ways I couldn’t explain. Now, I’m dealing with consequences I never saw coming. Again

Pregnant with Radmir’s baby. Again.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When I emerge from the bathroom, Carmen takes one look at my face and knows. She doesn’t ask for confirmation. She just opens her arms and lets me collapse against her, holding me while I try to process what this means for my carefully constructed life.

“What am I going to do?” The question comes out muffled against her shoulder.

“I don’t know,” she asks. “What do you want to do?”

I pull back, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “I want to go back in time and make better decisions. I want to have never met Radmir Vetrov, or Mikhail Petrov, or whoever he really is.”

She gives me a gentle smile. “That’s not an option.”

I know, and it would mean never having Leo, which I can’t imagine. “Then I want to disappear. Take Leo and move somewhere far away where we can start over without complications.”

“Also not realistic.”

Of course, she’s right. I can’t afford to run away and start over with no money and no support system.

Leo needs stability, needs his school and his friends and the life we’ve built here.

If I’m keeping this baby—and the thought of abortion instantly sends a resounding no through my mind—he or she will need all the same things.

That leaves only one option. “I need to tell him.” The words come out before I can stop them, surprising us both.

“Tell who? Radmir?”

I nod and then shake my head, revealing my inner confusion.

“No, yes… Both of them. Radmir about this pregnancy and Leo, and Leo about his father. Radmir first, of course, in case he rejects the idea...” I move to the window, looking out at the parking lot, where normal people are living normal lives without these kinds of complications. “I can’t keep hiding forever.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“No. I’m not sure about anything anymore.” I turn back to Carmen, who’s watching me with concern and affection. “I need time to think and figure out how to have this conversation without destroying everything.”

“Mama?” Leo’s voice carries from his bedroom. “Can we have dinner now? I’m really hungry.”

I look at Carmen, grateful for the interruption and the excuse to postpone this conversation for a few more hours. “Of course, sweetheart. Come help me decide what to make.”

As Leo runs into the kitchen, chattering about our visit to the park and the chocolate ice cream he ate, I try to imagine a future where he knows his father, where this new baby grows up with both parents, and I don’t have to carry these secrets anymore.

The image is so foreign, so impossible to reconcile with my current reality, that it might as well be a fairy tale.

Carmen follows us into the kitchen, settling at the small table while I pull ingredients from the refrigerator. Leo climbs onto his step stool, ready to help with whatever I’m making, his face bright with the kind of enthusiasm only children can manage after a full day of playing.

“Can we make spaghetti?” he asks, opening the pasta cabinet with the confidence of someone who knows exactly where everything belongs. “With the really good sauce?”

“Sure.” I pull out a box of pasta and hand it to him. “Can you count out enough for three people?”

He takes the task seriously, examining each piece of penne like he’s conducting quality control.

Carmen watches him with a soft expression, and I wonder what she’s thinking.

Isshe’s seeing him differently now that she knows who his father is, and can she spot any resemblance? She’d have to be blind not to.

“He has his eyes,” she says quietly, as if reading my mind. “And his bone structure...”

“Don’t.” The word comes out sharper than I intended. “Please don’t try to analyze him like he’s some kind of genetic puzzle.”

Carmen raises her hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

I fill a pot with water and set it on the stove, needing something to do with my hands.

“I’ve spent four years trying not to think about resemblances or wonder what traits came from where.

He’s just Leo. He’s just mine.” That all ended the day I saw Radmir’s childhood photo hanging in his hallway though.

“He’s not just yours anymore, is he?” She sounds regretful to voice it but has always had a policy of calling me on my bullshit, like a true friend.

The question hangs between us while Leo continues sorting pasta, blissfully unaware of the conversation happening around him.

She’s right, and we both know it. Whatever illusion I’ve maintained about being Leo’s only parent, and this being our private world, started cracking the moment I walked into Radmir’s house.

“Mama, is Miss Carmen staying for dinner?” Leo looks up from his pasta project, his hands dusted with flour that somehow escaped from the box.

“If she wants to.” I glance at Carmen, hoping she’ll say yes. The thought of spending the evening alone with my thoughts and my newly confirmed pregnancy feels overwhelming.

“I’d love to stay,” she says, and I see the understanding in her expression. She knows I need the support right now to help me manage what’s happening.

“Can we watch a movie after dinner?” he asks, already planning the evening’s entertainment. “The one with the dragons?”

“We’ll see.” I start browning ground beef for the sauce, grateful for the familiar routine. “First, let’s get through dinner.”

The routine of cooking helps calm the panic that’s been building since I saw those two pink lines.

“Danielle,” Carmen says carefully after a glance at Leo, who is distracted with getting plastic glasses and plates from the dishwasher so he can help set the table, “Have you thought about timing?”

I know what she’s asking. When will I start showing? When will it become impossible to hide this pregnancy from Radmir, Leo, and everyone else?

“If it’s like before, I have a few months before it becomes obvious. I popped around fifteen weeks with Leo.” I stir the sauce, focusing on the mundane task instead of the implications. “Maybe longer if I’m careful about clothing choices.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know.” The admission feels like failure. “I’ve been so focused on keeping the first secret that I never planned for what would happen if there were more secrets to keep. I certainly never expected to be in this position twice. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

“That’s a mean word, Mama,” says Leo as he sets out the plates in individual places.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” Sometimes, it’s apt though.

Dinner is ready shortly after, and I try to stay focused, but I’m distracted.

Leo’s chatter carries us through. When he announces that he’s finished with the pasta, I scoop him up for a hug as he runs by, ignoring the sauce he gets on my shirt from his face and hands when he immediately wraps his arms around my waist in one of his spontaneous hugs. I need this.

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

The simple exchange breaks something loose in my chest. This is what matters. Whatever decisions I make going forward, they have to protect this relationship first. I let him go so he can wash his hands and start clearing dinner plates after saving the leftovers.

“Carmen,” I say quietly, “What if I’m wrong about Radmir? What if he’s not the kind of man who would try to take Leo away or reject him completely?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if there’s some middle ground I haven’t considered? Some way to tell him the truth without losing everything?”

Carmen sets down her water glass, considering the question seriously. “What would that look like?”

“I don’t know. Maybe starting slowly, seeing how he reacts to the idea of Leo existing before telling him about the pregnancy.” I test the pasta, finding it perfectly al dente. “Or maybe finding some neutral ground where we can have an honest conversation about what happened four years ago.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

I smile with a hint of bitterness. “Or maybe I’m just looking for excuses to avoid making any decision at all.”

Carmen comes to help me by emptying the clean dishes from the dishwasher so I can reload it. “Whatever you decide, I’ll help however I can.”

“I know. Thank you.” I finish rinsing as she puts away the last clean cup and start stacking them in the tray. “I just wish I knew the right answer.”

“Maybe there isn’t a single right answer. Maybe there are just different choices with different consequences, and you have to pick the one you can live with.”

Leo returns from the bathroom, his hands still slightly damp, and hugs me again. “Movie?” he asks hopefully.

I nod. My concentration is shot, but we’ve seen the dragon movie about three hundred times, so he won’t expect me to be glued to my seat.

“Thanks, Mama.” He hugs my side before running toward the living room.

“You’re welcome, baby,” I call after him.

Carmen puts popcorn in the air popper when I ask as I search for my biggest bowl. We join him in the living room, and he has the menu called up, selecting the movie he wants to watch. We eat popcorn and watch in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

He tells Carmen all about the movie, not waiting for her to get to the parts he’s revealing, and she listens and asks thoughtful questions.

I’m struck by how much his life could change if I decide to tell Radmir the truth.

Right now, his biggest worry is whether the birthday party he’s supposed to attend next weekend will have a bouncy house.

If he suddenly has a father and a sibling on the way, how will that change his perspective on everything?

“Mama, you’re not eating very much popcorn.”

“I’m just tired, sweetheart. It’s been a long day.”

“Are you sick? You’ve been looking funny lately.”

Carmen catches my eye, and I see the concern there. Even Leo has noticed something’s different.

I manage a feeble smile. “I’m fine. Just working hard at my job.”

“The job where you clean the big house by the ocean?”

“That’s the one.”

“Do you like it there?”

The question is innocent, but it hits me hard. Do I like working for Radmir? Do I like being in his house, breathing his air, and cleaning around the edges of his life while pretending we’re strangers? “It’s a good job,” I say carefully. “It pays well, and the work isn’t too difficult.”

“But do you like it?”

He’s more perceptive than I like at the moment. “I like that it lets me take care of you.”

Leo accepts this answer with the easy satisfaction of someone who doesn’t yet understand the complexities of adult life. For him, the important thing is I’m happy, and we can afford the things we need.

If only it were that simple.

When Leo is absorbed in the movie, Carmen quietly asks, “How are you feeling? Physically, I mean?”

“Like my body is betraying me.” I look briefly at the screen, watching the dragon soar of the water. “I’d forgotten how awful the first trimester can be.”

“They say it gets better.”

I snort. “Last time, I spent three months feeling like I was dying, and then I had to figure out how to raise a baby alone.” I shift on the cushion. “At least this time, I know what I’m getting into.”

“This time you’re not alone.”

“I’m not with the father either.”

“That could change.”

I glance at my son as fear threatens to overwhelm me. “What if telling Radmir ruins everything for Leo? What if he’s better off not knowing?”

She arches a brow. “Do you really believe that?”

The honest answer is no. Leo deserves to know where he comes from and the chance to have a relationship with his father if that’s possible.

He deserves more than the half-truths and careful omissions I’ve been feeding him for four years.

Radmir probably deserves more too, even if he lied to me all those years ago.

“I still don’t know how to have that conversation without destroying all the security we’ve built.”

She sighs and pats my hand while delivering a harsh truth in a gentle voice. “Maybe that security was always temporary. Maybe it was always going to come to this eventually.”

She’s probably right. Secrets have their own gravitational pull, and their own timeline for revelation. I can’t control when or how the truth comes out unless I’m the one telling it.

“I need to think about this more. About how to approach him, what to say, and how to prepare Leo for whatever happens next.”

“That’s fair. Just don’t think too long. Every day you wait makes it harder…and more impossible to hide.” She gives me a bracing look. “Have faith that it will work out.”

I nod, though the thought of that conversation makes my stomach clench with more than morning sickness. There’s no easy way to tell someone they’re about to become a father for the second time, especially when they don’t know about the first time. “I have absolutely no idea how to that.”

“That’s why they call it faith.”