Page 151 of King of Ashes
As I sip from my orange juice, I gesture for him to go on.
“Two. Alessio and Elio.”
My dream unfolds before me. “Boys?”
“Yeah, you wanted boys.” He clears his throat. “This preference involved your father and myself. And your mother abandoning you.”
I nod, but it doesn’t escape me how he gnashes his teeth whenever he mentions my father. It’s obvious he hates him, but this is my happy day, and I won’t let anything affect that, firmly believing it couldn’t have been bad enough to warrant his death.
He jerks his chin toward my belly, eyes softening. “How far along are you?”
“Seven weeks.”
He grins from ear to ear, and I pick up a napkin, throwing it toward him. “Shut up.”
He raises his hands in the air but doesn’t hide his satisfaction. “Didn’t say anything.”
“It’s written all over your face. Serves me right,” I groan, but my voice lacks annoyance.
We finish breakfast, and as we clean the table, I say, “I will check myself into the clinic until I recover all my memories.”
He stiffens, and it’s clear he doesn’t approve.
“It’s my right to find out.”
He seeks my eyes. “This is not a good time.”
My emotions get the better of me, and I snap. “Well, just erase my damn mind once again until you have your baby.”
“This is not about the baby,” he snaps back. He drags a hand down his face, pacing. “You weren’t there. You fucking weren’t there anymore.”
It hits me right in the middle of my chest. It’s about losing me. About me checking out and leaving him. That’s what I did. He had to live with my absence, with all the memories and no outlet.
I forgot him, lived my life as bland as it was, and my career helped ground me, but nothing helped him.
“I won’t force you to do it again. It won’t simply happen,” I say, infusing as much confidence as I can, even though I don’t know what pushed me to react that strongly.
He fists his hands at his sides, battling indecision. A long pause follows, thick with heavy implications, and it makes me hold my breath. “Your mother was unstable.”
My pulse beats frantically, threatening to make me collapse, and I sink into the chair. “What?”
“I wanted to kill the woman capable of abandoning you because I couldn’t fathom how someone could ever leave you and make you feel even for a damn second unworthy of her love. So, I used all my contacts to find out who she was.”
I swallow, the words scratching my throat. “That’s not true.” My father would have told me.
He expels a deprecating sound as if knowing exactly the person I was thinking about.
“She was barely nineteen. The pregnancy put a strain on her body. And coupled with postpartum depression, she drifted away. Your father had her locked up.”
I blink, holding my head, too much information cramming in until my brain threatens to short-circuit. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“Sure,” he snickers.
“So what? You don’t trust me because you think I might go insane like her?”
He erases the distance between us, cupping my face, and presses his forehead to mine. “You’re not your mother and you’re so much better than your father. You thrived despite everything. She didn’t abandon you because she wanted to. She just couldn’t be there for you.”
“Will you tell our child that, given how you view me as if I might snap at any moment?” I cry out, trying to untangle the web.
