Page 68 of Die for You
In and out.
I take my time to focus on the only thing that matters, and that’s our daughter.
“For the first time in our lives…we fight for the same thing,” I say, slowly brushing the hair from my eyes as I look at Lenny.
He stops pacing and interlaces his hands behind his head. I understand this is hard. There was no easy way of breaking this kind of news.
And I soon realize that this is the secret Lenny has wanted to tell me for years. He knew Gianna was my…I can’t even say the word without wanting to break something. But he knew that without proof, I wouldn’t believe him.
He came to Italy with the proof he needed. I too had the proof to reveal to him that he was going to be a father.
But it seems the universe had other plans for us both.
We possibly needed time to grow. Or maybe there were more life lessons to learn. Whatever the reason, it does not matter because it feels as if we’ve come full circle.
Perhaps Gianna trained us for this precise moment in time.
“How could you keep this from me?”
“To protect our daughter.” There’s no hesitation in my response.
“Protect her from me?” His voice is trembling in anger.
“Protect her from us both. How long have you known about Gianna?”
Lenny is now the one to feel guilt. “It was Aldo’s last words. He was the one who told me she was your mother.”
I feel betrayed by so many. It appears everyone knew the truth except me.
“I guess in that regard, the same question applies to you.”
“Would you have believed me without any proof?”
I shake my head.
I barely believe it now.
“I came to Italy with Aldo’s computer, with the evidence I needed, but Bria wiped it clean without my knowledge.”
I come to a slow stand. “It appears we both had secrets, then.”
“So why the sudden change of heart? You’ve kept my daughter from me for this long, what’s another few years?” He’s livid and lashes out, punching a bag so hard that it swings high and almost comes loose.
“Our daughter, Lettie…she’s been kidnapped.”
Lenny pales and wavers on his feet. He holds the punching bag for support. “Lettie?” he whispers, touched by her name choice as it’s so close to her father’s.
I give him time to digest this.
“How old is she?”
“She’s just turned five.”
He does the math in his head and realizes she was conceived that fateful night.
“I’m a father?”
I nod, quashing down a new tsunami of tears.
