Page 80 of Forbidden Pregnancy
“Don’t worry, I won’t be letting Gino off the hook.”
I wasn’t worried about Gino. My twin brother has absolutely no ambition and there’s nothing I can do to change that about him. I don’t mind. I have plenty of ambition for both of us and Gino could be potentially useful if I ever get close to the power I truly want.
“I wasn’t worried about Gino.”
My father raises his eyebrows in disapproval. It would bother me more if he ever made his approval easy to come by. He has a strong preference for his eldest son, the only heir he needed. He considers the rest of us extras and only gives a shit if we’re useful. Luigi manages to see himself as the ultimate victim despite being my fathers favorite.
“You should worry about every member of your flock if you want to become a shepherd.”
Whatever the fuck that means.
“Understood.”
Dad smirks. “He doesn’t have your ambition. But be careful, Renzo. And start going to church. Because it says right there in the Bible –Pride goes before the fall.”
“I’ll look after my sister.”
“Excellent,” dad says. “I understand your ambitions. It’s not easy to be right smack in the middle. But these struggles will make you stronger.”
“Thanks for dinner, dad.”
“You’re welcome, Renzo. And I know how you think. Just because I go easier on some of my children doesn’t mean I love them more. I only test you as much as you can take.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Myra
The Honeymoon
(... with our one year old)
Our one year old daughter Gianna Rae Corsini sits on my lap as I sprawl out on the deck of the chartered catamaran. Going to the Italian coast for our honeymoon without actually ever leaving the boat was a brilliant idea. Michael is far too paranoid to walk around the cities with me and his daughter on his arm, especially since his gain in rank within the Buffalo Italian mob family. I don’t even care. The boat is perfect and I wouldn’t trade lying in the sun with my daughter for anything.
Of course, she has lots of sunscreen lathered on her light brown skin. I worry about my little baby getting a burn, but I’m happy that her skin is dark enough that we look related. I didn’t have a preference for my baby’s skin tone, but I love that her skin is on the darker side compared to other mixed kids I’ve seen. It suits her. And her dark skin makes her eyes pop…
As if to make up for the cruelty of Michael losing one of his gorgeous eyes, our daughter’s eyes are the same shade of blue. Iwould have never thought I had the potential for these recessive genes to express themselves, but my daughter has skin the color of roasted cinnamon, textured hair like mine about a 4b texture, and blue eyes that match Michael Corsini’s.
She smiles as she sits in between my legs, reaching for the sun with all the enthusiasm for life that only a toddler can express. It’s so beautiful watching the world through her eyes and feeling all of Gianna Rae’s joy. Michael emerges from below deck around the same time as a big fish jumps out of the water about fifty yards off. He turns around to look at the giant tuna (or whatever that thing was) and then grins as he returns his gaze to the two of us.
Ever since we became a real family, his obsession with “us as a family” has become downright corny. I don’t mind corny, but it’s pretty funny coming from a gigantic Italian mobster.
“You two look incredible,” he says. “I need to work on my tan.”
“You need to work on a relationship with sunscreen.”
Michael grunts. “Be careful, Myra. I’m already thinking about our next one.”
“I hope you’re talking about our next trip and not another baby.”
Gianna Rae laughs, unaware of the seriousness of our discussion. Michael sits next to me on the boat deck and takes Gianna into his big arms as she reaches for him.
“I’m talking about another baby. But if it takes a trip to convince you, I’ll give you my credit card.”
She smacks her fathers legs and laughs playfully. I look over at Michael, taking in all the little details and features of his face, ignoring the fact that my heart still does that nervous jump when I look over at him. He doesn’t look any older than he did when I first felt that soft warm spark for him.
“Are you sure we’re ready for another baby?”
“Why not?” Michael says gruffly. “I’m already getting too old to be a father.”
