Page 135 of Nine Months to Love
“—is not welcome in our child’s life. End of discussion.”
I sit up, pulling my feet away from his hands. “It’s not the end of discussion. She’s your mother, Stefan. And our baby’s grandmother.”
“Biology doesn’t make her family.”
“I know that. But what if there’s more to the story than you think? What if?—?”
A knock at the door cuts me off. Stefan stands. “That’ll be the wine I ordered.”
“Stefan, wait?—”
But he’s already crossing the terrace. I watch him go, frustration building in my chest.
Every. Time.Everysingletime I try to bring this up, something derails it. The food. The sex. The scenery. All of those things have been great, truly, but at a certain point, we’re gonna have to cross this bridge. He can’t live and die by this stubborn refusal to even consider the possibility that maybe his version of events isn’t the only version.
I know I’m partly to blame. I let myself get distracted. The tiramisu yesterday was transcendent. And when Stefan kissed me in the Boboli Gardens this afternoon, I forgot what I was going to say.
But this matters. For Stefan. For Natalia. For our baby.
I need to make him listen.
Stefan returns with a bottle of red and two glasses. He pours one for himself and sparkling water for me. “To us,” he says, raising his glass.
I don’t raise mine. “Stefan.”
“Olivia.”
“Please. Just hear me out.”
He sets his glass down. “I’m listening.”
“Your mother?—”
“I thought we just agreed not to talk about her.”
“Wedidn’t agree to anything.Youjust refused to discuss it.”
“Because there’s nothing to discuss.”
“There’s everything to discuss! She’s your mother. She carried you for nine months. She raised you.”
“She also fucked my uncle and helped doom my father to an early grave,” he drawls emotionlessly.
“Or maybe she was trapped in an abusive marriage and did what she had to do to survive.”
His jaw clenches. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then help me understand. Talk to me. Tell me your side.”
“I’ve told you my side.”
“You’ve told me the version you’ve been carrying for fifteen years. But what if it’s not the whole truth?”
“It is the truth.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was there, Olivia. I saw what she did. I saw—” He stops. His hands curl into fists on his thighs.
