◆ First Baby ◆

◇ KEL ◇

"Success?"

"Finally." Enzo grinned lopsidedly and took off his black shirt. "A nice, solid dump." He flung the shirt over his shoulder, then sat next to me on the poolside recliner as the sun hurt my eyes.  Like the weather, his brand new L-shaped pool looked too beautiful to ignore.

"It was the okra, alugbati, and chia seeds." I smiled at him, quite proud of my culinary skills.

"Yeah."

"I'll make you chicken adobo later."

"With eggs?" Enzo smiled wider. "Thanks for cooking again." He touched my chin and pressed a noisy kiss on my cheek.  His hands smelled of apple-scented sanitizer.

"Mommy's asking if you just got back from Florence."

He scratched his forehead, his warm thigh touching mine on the recliner. "They're still in Orlando?"

"Yeah. They're taking Meesha to Disney Park tomorrow."

"You told her I'm going to Rome tomorrow?"

"Not yet." I glanced down and checked my phone again.  I wanted to convince him to stay here so we could celebrate his birthday with my family, but he already made plans with Rafa the week before.

"Jill called again? Or Mommy Tilda?"

"Both." I muffled a giggle, enjoying the midday sun and his grass-covered backyard.  First time I ever heard him call my mom  "Mommy Tilda".  But it didn't feel weird.  Just oddly funny and a tad reassuring.

Enzo handed me a bottle of sunscreen.

I put my phone down to apply the lotion on his shoulders, back and nape. All not as tan as his face and arms.   "Why? You really wanna go back to Schenectady before you leave?"

"I want to."

"Just call her. I already sent you her numbers."

He sighed, keeping his back to me.

"Why d'you really wanna talk to her?" I massaged the skin around his neck when his muscles tensed up beneath my palms.

Nervousness?  Maybe.  It could just be some uncertainty.  He rarely got nervous whenever we're alone.

"Why?" I placed my chin on his shoulder, my lips almost touching his pinkish ear.  I knew he wanted to go to Schenectady with me to go see Mom and Jill again.  But I still wasn't 100% sure why.

"Because we should."

"Why?" I snickered.

"Just 'cause..." He scoffed, sounding a little annoyed now.

"Okay. Maybe next week." I knelt in front of him to put sunscreen on his face.  "When you get back. After the assessment."

"Okay." He grinned.

A comfortable silence lingered as the afternoon sun warmed every inch of my bare skin. The bikini he bought after leaving his office barely covered my pancake butt.  Stringy top.  A bit skimpier on the sides.

Did he think I was still a size zero?  Funny—because he'd already seen me naked from head to toe.  Yet he chose this tween-size patch of maroon spandex I'd rather use as a sleep mask.

"You really don't wanna tell them yet?"

"No."

"Why not?" Enzo sighed while his brows creased. His eyes focused on my mouth.  A tinge of disappointment softened his raspy voice.

"I mean, not now," I murmured, my hands now busy wiping lotion all over his sun-kissed cheeks.  "I just don't wanna rush things.  I don't wanna jinx it." I forced a smile.

His fingers toyed with my bikini strap while another frown crinkled the skin beside his eyes.  "You think I'm rushing you?"

"No." I held back a sigh when he didn't respond.  "I mean, lately...  Sometimes I feel like, you want and expect much more."  Even though I didn't show or give him enough attention, his actions didn't fail to remind me how much he cared.  A bit of a guilt trip, if he would ask me.

"I'm not rushing you."

I scrunched up my nose at his frown. "Okay."

"I don't wanna jinx it, either." He smirked while his fingers combed my hair away from my chest.  "You think our first baby's gonna have curly brown hair? Or straight black hair like yours?"

I pulled back and covered my mouth.  I almost laughed my guts out.

Making baby plans now?  Yikes...

And for a second there I almost believed he didn't wanna rush it, either.  "Maybe blonde and curly." I pinched the side of his waist a few times. "Like Jill and your sister."

"Yeah." Enzo chuckled and grabbed my wrists to stop the tickle attack. "That's possible, too."

"How's she doing, by the way?"

"Lessandra?"  His smile narrowed.  "Pregnant again. They just moved out of Holyoake. Living on their new farm now. But they're still in Western Australia."

"Sounds nice. And peaceful."   Although I wondered how his younger sister could just forget about her whole life in Italy after getting hitched to a retired pro surfer, at times I envied that kind of lifestyle.

Simple.  Easygoing.  Freeing.  Lessandra took  "I don't want anything to do with the family business"  to another level.  Headstrong like her brothers.

"Why don't you wanna get married?" Enzo squinted at me.  "Like Miles."

"I just don't." I shrugged.

"And no kids?"

"Not now."   If I graduated this year, I wouldn't even have time to breastfeed or change a baby's diaper.  But I didn't loathe the idea of marriage and kids—unlike Miles.

"Alright," Enzo sighed.  His eyes stayed closed.

I was done with his face.  Now I slathered the sticky sunscreen all over his pinkish chest.

"Did Nicco tell you why Miles changed his number again?"

"He said my brother keeps calling them.  Well, half-brother," I muttered.

"Why?"

"Asking about my address. And phone number."

"Magnus. Right? What's his last name again?"

"Roiz."

Enzo made a face.  "Doesn't sound Serbian at all."

"His mom was from Andria."

"Oh? Already dead?"

"Nicco said so." I shrugged,  still growing more curious by the day.  If only Miles would let me, I would go back to Serbia this year so I could finally meet my half-brothers in person.  Maybe they weren't as vile as Ilya.  And maybe...just maybe...a tiny bit of their hearts wanted to meet me, too.  "Ilya met her there before he got her pregnant."

"I still can't believe he's..." Enzo frowned  and lightly shook his head.  "How did he meet Mommy Tilda again?  They first met when you were still living in Florida?"

"Tallahassee. Yeah. She said, Ilya told her he was a jeweler from Belgrade, and divorced."

"Lies."

"Not really. Nicco said Ilya started working with the Božićs as a smuggler. Diamonds. Precious stones, and all that."

"But of course he never told her about the Božićs," Enzo muttered.

"No. He was still using Mihajlović that time."

"You still think she'd panic? If you told her you met him in Belgrade?" He stroked my hair, his grapes-smelling breath making my face warmer, his voice almost a whisper.

"She definitely would."  And Mom would cry again. Just in hysterics. Like the last time when I first asked her about Ilya.  "She said,  after he showed up outside our new house,  Daddy Jim moved us out of Florida a week later so Ilya wouldn't find us again."

"Wow." Enzo grinned slightly.  "You don't recall any of it?"

"No. I was just  a toddler that time."  I caressed his stubbled jaw, the tickling roughness a  reminder of my dad's gentle hugs and kisses on my forehead before Jill and I went to bed in our jammies.

Although Jill was always Daddy Jim's favorite, I never felt unwanted in our home.  He and Mommy had some marital problems, sure...but Dad was a great father overall.  I wished he met Enzo before passing away.  Without Enzo's help, we wouldn't have been able to pay for Dad's last surgery and medications that time we were really struggling to make ends meet.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"Hmm?" Enzo frowned.  His arm around my back pulled me closer till I ended up sitting on his thigh.  "For what?"

"For what Ilya did to you and Cloe."

He scoffed and shook his head a little.  "You didn't even know a thing about him then." His arm tightened around my waist.  "I should thank him, y'know."

"What?" I scoffed.  "Why?"

"If his guys didn't show up, I wouldn't have ended up in Ricchar's basement that day."  The clouds hid the sun as he peppered quick kisses on the side of my neck.  "All bloody and needy. Crushing on you bad while you were babysitting me."

I chuckled.  "And we wouldn't have bonded in the toilet and guest room when you could barely get out of bed?"

"Precisely."

"Yeah. Maybe you should thank him," I murmured, making a face at the mental image of him shaking Ilya's hand for the first time.

Ugh.  No thanks.  That criminal deserved a prison sentence.  Not an extended family.

I gripped Enzo's forearm while we stared at the glimmering pool.  If only my brain also blacked out memories of that horrifying morning, I might also harbor some feelings of gratitude towards that brutal, merciless mobster for being the catalyst.

"Wanna go to Rome with me, love?"

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