Page 53 of Bulletproof Baby

"There aren't enough words to make that possible. No. She's not. She's not having a baby. She's not having my baby. She's not in New York. No. I can't go through that again." I tell him in denial.

Armande grips me by the shoulders and slaps me in the face. "Her fucking cousin has been calling around until he finally got a hold of me. Do you know the kinds of people he had to call to find me? This is real, Valley. Let's go. She's at Cedar Bailey."

"Why didn't she tell me?" I ask no one as Armande ushers me into the SUV. I get into the passenger seat where Frankie's on the speakerphone.

"Hello? Did you find him? Where is he? He needs to get here now," Frankie yells through the speaker.

"I got him. We're on our way. Stop yelling at me," Armande barks back at the radio before ending the call.

My mind swirls with images of our last night together. I kidnapped her. She punched me in the face. I got her parents into witness protection. And on the day the woman I love is giving birth, my mother shows up. What a fucking day.

We pull up to the hospital and rush into the maternity ward where Frankie is pacing in a hospital gown, scrubs and an assortment of disposable garments over his hair and shoes.

"I should kill you, Valentino, but now's not the time. You need to get in there. I've been here since last night. I'm strong, I'm buff, I can take dick, but childbirth? No. No. Have you seen what's going on in there? Thinking about the needles is making me faint—" He sways and I steady him, just for Frankie to swat my hands away. "Don't hold me. Go hold Lia. That's not my baby. There is nothing on my bucket list or my calendar that says go help my cousin deliver a baby. How did I sink so far down into this rabbit hole?"

"Frankie, get it together. I'm going. Who do I need to speak to for this stuff?" I motion toward his garb.

"There's this big girly back there. You can't miss her. She's tall, thick, and—" he turns and points her out. "There she goes. Twyla, honey! Here he is. Father of the baby."

Of course. Of fucking course.

Armande erupts into laughter, collapsing onto a waiting room chair with Frankie eyeing him with confusion.

"This is quite the development," Twyla says with a wide smile. "Now all the pieces come together. Come with me, Don Barrone."

23

LIA

Where the hell is Frankie?

Breathe, bitch, breathe.

The air pushing through my lips is rife with pain. I don't like this. I'm not ready. I need someone else in this room other than the soothing sounds of Angela Lansbury solving crime in the murder capital of the world of Cabot Cove, Maine. The TV is great background noise for cleaning, working, sorting through invoices, but for childbirth?

"Ooooooo, this nosy woman is annoying. For God's sake let the people murder in peace," I whimper through another contraction.

The sterility of the room is obnoxious with its overly pungent odor of something. It's cleaned, but I can't tell with what. It's not bleach, but it's definitely clean. The lights are too bright. I'm sweaty from doing all the work. Baby girl is not helping this labor out one bit, but I'm also freezing.

That's when I see the height darkening the doorway is not that of my sweet nurse, Twyla, but of the man who caused all these issues.

"Valentino. I'm sorry," I huff out. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The tears fall immediately as he comes to me, taking me in his arms, rather awkwardly to not tear out my IV or disconnect the various sensors tracking my labor.

"We'll talk later. How far along are we?" he asks, looking around for help or someone to yell at.

"What happened to your hand?" I ask him, through panting breaths. There are scars along his forearm.

"I broke it," Twyla says as she enters the room. She's grinning ear to ear when she says it. I look at her and Valentino who's turning a deep shade of red.

He leans down to tell me, "She's a bone breaker."

"I break bones for the broken hearted," Twyla says. "Now, what I need you to do, Mr. Barrone, is to stand aside. Your beloved is in labor six weeks early. We thought we could stop it, but the baby is coming whether you want her to or not."

"It's a girl?" Valentino smiles with his eyes wide.

"Yeah, did I say I was sorry, Val?" I ask him again.