We are making a human together. A tiny human that will have her qualities and mine. It chokes me up unexpectedly, and I hope she can’t see it. This is just the natural order of things. This is what we were supposed to do as husband and wife. But right now, I feel oddly... proud. And content.
"You're thinking about how you impregnated me, aren't you?" She rolls her eyes.
"It was quite the accomplishment," I remark without reservation.
"It's biology, Santiago."
"And the De La Rosa virility," I argue.
Her smile fades as her palms come to rest on my forearms. "What will happen if this baby is a girl?"
"Then we will have a daughter," I answer, not understanding her point.
"But it won't be the same as a son." Sadness tinges her voice.
"Do you want a boy?" I furrow my brows.
"No, that's not what I'm saying," she huffs. "I'm saying you do."
"I want a boy," I agree. "We will need male heirs, certainly. But I want girls too. A mixture would be good."
Her eyes widen. "How many babies do you think we're going to have?"
"As many as I can put inside you."
She does not look amused as she shakes her head. "I'm not a baby factory."
"I know. But you have to admit it isn't a chore to make them."
"Make them, no. Carrying them around for nine months and raising them? Yes, that will be a lot of work."
"We'll have help," I assure her. "Antonia—"
"Santiago." She traces her fingers over my lips, quieting me. "Let's just get through one baby at a time, okay?"
I shrug, and she seems to let the issue go, for now. We wash off beneath the spray, and then towel off and brush our teeth at the sinks. The entire ritual is oddly domestic, and I feel a suffocating weight on my chest, like I need to leave. To escape for a while. But then Ivy ruins it all with one request.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" she asks. "For at least a little while."
"Okay."
She pauses to look at me like she doesn't believe me. "Okay?"
"Don't make a big deal of it."
She fights a smile and nods, and together we go back into the bedroom and crawl in bed, still naked. For a few minutes, we lay there, side by side, staring up at the ceiling. Not touching, neither of us speaking. And then beneath the covers, I feel Ivy's palm on my dick.
Next thing I know, I'm balls deep inside her again, fucking her into the bed as she cries out my name, digging her nails into my ass.
Once we have both come, I collapse beside her, and she nestles her head into the space between my arm and shoulder, curling her body close to mine. My hand falls around her naturally, and I close my eyes, just for a minute. That minute turns into an entire night, and the next time I open them, I'm surprised to see it's morning.
I spent the entire night in bed with her.
17 Ivy
The next month passes peacefully between Santiago and I. There’s no sign of Abel. It’s like he’s vanished off the face of the earth. Any bank accounts in his name have been frozen, according to Santiago, who has somehow gained access to them. There’s been no credit card activity on any known cards for weeks. Between Santiago’s men and the soldiers, The Society has stationed throughout New Orleans and anywhere else Abel has ever had ties, I can’t fathom where he’d be hiding.
Did he have more than one safe house? He had to have. He needs a place to lie low. He needs money.
Unless, of course, someone is hiding him.
Santiago hasn’t said as much but I know it’s on his mind. A man I’ve yet to be introduced to has come to see Santiago multiple times and with Santiago’s tendency to become more animated and raise his voice when it comes to my brother, I’ve overheard a few things. It’s not that I’m eavesdropping exactly. It’s just if I didn’t happen by his office door during these visits, he’d never tell me anything.
He’s been to see my father almost daily and when I ask my father what they talk about, what has him and Santiago so worried, he changes the subject, maneuvers me around on tiptoe. At least I’m allowed to see him, though. Although I’m still not sure Santiago’s feelings for my father will ever change. If he’ll ever not blame him for what happened the night his father and brother were killed along with so many others. The night he walked away a scarred, broken man.
I know Santiago doesn’t want me to worry. I know he’s keeping things from me in order to protect me, protect our baby. At least I believe that’s his thinking process. I don’t like it, but I can’t seem to budge him on that. In some ways it’s endearing me to him. I like seeing how careful he is with me. Different than he is with anyone else. He’s gentle and thoughtful and I realize I feel safe. Safe in this house. This home we’re making. Safe in his arms and in his bed.
I haven’t told him my feelings for him yet. Haven’t said the words I love you. But they’re creeping up more and more often when we make love. When he holds me afterward. And it’s getting harder to swallow them down.
He’s let Eva and I video call Hazel and her son, Michael. Michael looks like a mini version of my sister, and seeing her, even over a video, was so much more emotional than I ever thought it could be. I missed my sister these years but I didn’t realize how fresh that hurt was.
We keep the conversations pretty light with Michael and Eva around but it’s okay. At least we’ve reconnected. At least I know she’s safe. And the best part of it is that Michael already
