Chapter 4 - “As long as it takes to know.”
It was the best answer anyone gave me.
Dante kept his distance.
But he didn’t disappear.
Three days before my next appointment, one message appeared on my phone.
I know you have no obligation to include me.
If you are comfortable with it, I would like to attend.
If not, I will respect that.
I stared at the message for twenty minutes.
Then I wrote back.
You can come.
His reply arrived immediately.
Thank you.
Nothing else.
At the clinic, Dante was already waiting when I arrived.
He wore a simple black sweater instead of a suit.
No security entered with him, though I noticed a familiar car parked across the street.
I chose not to comment.
He stood when he saw me.
His gaze dropped to my stomach.
There was still almost nothing to see.
That didn’t stop him from looking.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
We sat beside each other.
There were six inches between us.
It felt like six miles.
When my name was called, Dante followed me into the examination room.
The technician dimmed the lights.
I lay back.
Dante took the chair beside me.
He didn’t touch me.
The screen flickered.
Then the first heartbeat filled the room.
Dante went rigid.
The technician smiled.
“There’s Baby A.”
A second rhythm joined it.
“And Baby B.”
I looked at Dante.
I shouldn’t have.
His eyes were wet.
Dante Moretti did not cry.
At least, that was what I had believed.
He turned his face slightly away from the technician.
One tear reached his cheek.
He wiped it before another could fall.
My chest hurt.
I reached for his hand before I realized what I was doing.
His fingers closed around mine instantly.
Not hard.
Just enough.
Neither of us spoke.
For the first time since I found him with Sofia, we were touching.
Not as husband and wife.
Not as lovers.
As two terrified people listening to their children exist.
Afterward, Dante walked me to my car.
“Thank you.”
“You already said that.”
“I’ll probably keep saying it.”
I opened the door.
He stayed a few feet away.
“Lena.”
I looked back.
“Have you thought about where you’ll live once they’re born?”
The old defensiveness rose immediately.
“I’m not moving into the penthouse.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
I paused.
He nodded toward my car.
“I’m asking because twins require space.”
“I know.”
“And because I worry about security.”
“There it is.”
His expression remained calm.
“You married into my life.”
“I’m trying to leave your life.”
“You can leave me.”
His voice hardened slightly.
“You cannot make my name disappear from their blood.”
The words chilled me.
Dante saw it.
His face softened immediately.
“That sounded like a threat.”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t.”
“What was it?”
“The reason I’m afraid.”
That stopped me.
Dante looked toward the clinic entrance.
“There are people who hate me.”
“I know.”
“I have spent five years keeping you away from most of what I do because I thought distance was protection.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“I managed to destroy my marriage while doing it.”
I said nothing.
“But these children will exist whether we are married or divorced.”
His eyes returned to me.
“I need to protect them.”
I placed one hand over my stomach.
“So do I.”
“Then let me work with you.”
The phrase startled me.
Work with you.
Not decide.
Not arrange.
Not order.
I studied him.
“What does that mean?”
“You choose where you live.”
He spoke carefully.
“If you want security, you choose the people.”
“I’m not having armed men inside my house.”
“Outside.”
“Dante.”
“Outside.”
A trace of the old stubbornness appeared.
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
His eyes noticed.
That was dangerous.
I looked away.
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s enough.”
The pregnancy progressed.
So did something far more complicated.
Dante attended appointments when I allowed it.
He never arrived late.
He never answered calls inside the clinic.
The first time his phone rang during an ultrasound, he switched it off without looking at the screen.
I noticed.
Of course I noticed.
For years I had competed against that phone.
Now he treated the rest of Chicago as if it could wait.
At twenty weeks, we learned we were having a boy and a girl.
Dante stared at the screen.
“A son.”
“And a daughter.”
His voice softened at the second word.
“A daughter.”
I smiled despite myself.
“You look more terrified about the girl.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because if she looks like you, I’m going to have problems.”
I laughed.
The sound surprised both of us.
Dante smiled.
A real smile.
For one dangerous second, we were ourselves again.
Then I remembered the office.
Sofia.
The kiss.
I withdrew my hand from where it had been resting close to his.
Dante’s smile disappeared.
He never complained.
That almost made it harder.
The divorce papers moved forward.
Neither of us discussed stopping them.
Dante signed everything his lawyers sent.
No delays.
No demands.
No attempt to claim the apartment I had chosen or control my finances.
He transferred half of our shared marital assets into my name.
I sent instructions through my attorney to return most of it.
Dante sent them back.
A note was attached.
Five years were not charity.
You built a life with me.
Half of what that life became belongs to you.
For once, I didn’t fight him.
At twenty-four weeks, the babies became active enough that I could feel distinct kicks.
The girl seemed to enjoy my ribs.
The boy preferred kicking lower.
One evening, Dante brought over two bags of groceries after I mentioned I was exhausted.
I opened the door and stared at him.
“You know grocery delivery exists.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you holding bread?”
He looked down at the bag.
“I wanted to bring it.”
I stepped aside.
He entered.
By then, my apartment had changed.
Two cribs waited in the spare room.
Tiny clothes filled drawers.
Ultrasound photographs covered the refrigerator.
Dante stopped in front of them.
His expression softened.
He carried copies in his wallet.
I knew because I had accidentally seen one when he paid for coffee after an appointment.
He had never mentioned it.
I had pretended not to notice.
That evening, we cooked together.
Or tried.
Dante could command dozens of people without raising his voice.
He could not chop an onion correctly.
“You’re terrible at that.”
“I have people who do this.”
“Your children are going to be impressed.”
“My children will have people too.”
I gave him a look.
He sighed.
“Fine.”
He picked up the knife.
“Teach me.”
So I did.
It was painfully normal.
That was why it was dangerous.
Later, while I stood at the sink, one of the babies kicked hard.
I gasped.
Dante crossed the kitchen instantly.
“What?”
“I’m fine.”
His face remained tense.
“The baby kicked.”
His eyes dropped.
“Which one?”
“I think your daughter.”
A strange softness appeared in his face.
“Can I?”
He held his hand near my stomach but didn’t touch me.
He waited.
That mattered.
I nodded.
Dante placed his palm against me.
Nothing happened.
He waited.
Still nothing.
I smiled.
“She’s stubborn.”
“Clearly yours.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Then the baby kicked directly beneath his hand.
Dante froze.
His entire expression changed.
Again.
I had watched this man receive news worth millions without reacting.
One tiny kick made him look overwhelmed.
“There.”
I whispered.
He looked at me.
Another kick.
His hand remained against my stomach.
For a second, neither of us breathed.
Then his thumb moved slightly.
Almost a caress.
I should have stepped away.
I didn’t.
“Lena.”
Something in his voice frightened me.
Not because it was threatening.
Because it was the voice of the man I married.
The one I still loved.
“I’m sorry.”
My eyes closed.
“Dante.”
“I know saying it doesn’t repair anything.”
“Then don’t.”
“I need you to hear it once when I’m not trying to stop you from leaving.”
I opened my eyes.
His hand fell from my stomach.
“I betrayed you before I kissed her.”
I stared at him.
“I betrayed you every night I stayed away when I could have come home.”
His voice remained low.
“Every time I knew you were asking me to let you back into my life and I chose silence because silence was easier.”
My throat tightened.
“Every time Sofia crossed a boundary and I noticed but did nothing because I told myself nothing physical had happened.”
He looked away.
“I liked being wanted without being required to give anything real in return.”
That confession hurt.
But it also sounded true.
“When she kissed me, there was one second where I could have stepped back.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“I didn’t.”
The kitchen became unbearably quiet.
“I will regret that second for the rest of my life.”
I swallowed.
“You should.”
“I do.”
“Do you regret it because I caught you?”
“No.”
His answer was immediate.
“I regret that it took you catching me to make me see what I had become.”
I looked at the dishes in the sink.
My eyes burned.
“I loved you so much.”
The words slipped out.
Dante stopped breathing.
I corrected myself.
“I love you so much.”
That was worse.
His face broke open with hope.
I raised a hand.
“But love isn’t enough.”
The hope disappeared.
“I know.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I know.”
“I still remember that office every time you get close.”
May you like
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
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