Page 88 of The Mafia's Christmas Baby

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He looks at me then, not at the case.

His eyes are steady and tired.

The room is very quiet.

I take a step closer and see my face reflected in the metal, small and pale and stubborn.

I know what’s inside.

I only wish I never have to use it.

18

ELISA

Afew weeks later

The test sits on the edge of the sink while the second line decides whether it exists.

The bathroom is quiet except for the radiator.

I stare until my eyes blur and the color comes into focus.

Two lines.

Clear as a bell.

I sit on the closed lid of the toilet and press my palms to my thighs like I'm bracing for a turn I did not plan to take.

This, coupled with the weapon Nico tried to give to me… I smile bleakly at the air.

I knew what was possible. I also believed the old math.

Years ago, a doctor told me my cycles were irregular and I might have a harder time.

I built a life around that like it was a fact.

Now my chest feels tight and open at the same time.

I laugh once.

I cry once.

I run water until the mirror fogs, then I put the test in a drawer because I can't throw it out and I can't keep looking at it.

I don't call Nico.

I send him a message about my shifts and a picture of a lopsided loaf I baked before dawn.

He sends me a photo of his tie badly knotted and asks me to fix it later.

I stare at the screen until it goes dark.

Work does not care about my news.

The shift rolls over me from the first minute.

Vitals.

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