MILLIE
With a sweeping gesture, Harper’s hand encompassed my figure, emphasizing the loose-fitting blouse I wore. Her words illuminated a truth that stung like a fresh wound my attire was a reflection of my desire to hide, to shield myself from prying eyes, to conceal the changes that pregnancy and emotional turmoil had brought about.
Her next words, however, carried a truth that cut through my defenses. “Has Gio said anything?”
A sigh escaped me, a release of pent-up tension. “I’ve already apologized,” I murmured, the memory of my desperate pleas echoing in my mind. I had begged him not to let our love crumble, but he had chosen distance, leaving me to grapple with my own unraveling world.
But Harper wasn’t finished, and her voice held a deeper insight that jolted me from my thoughts. “From what Sebastian let slip, Gio is damn worried. We all are, Millie.” Her gaze was unwavering, an unspoken camaraderie in her eyes. “Why do you think Gio is shuttling back and forth to the Hamptons? He’s keeping an eye on you, in his own convoluted way. I don’t claim to understand him, but there’s no denying he still cares.”
In those words, a revelation dawned one that shattered the walls I had constructed around my heart. Despite the fractured state of our relationship, despite the chasm that had grown between us, Gio’s concern was an undeniable beacon of his lingering affections. As my family unraveled and the world shifted around me, Harper’s words illuminated the fragments of love that remained, hidden beneath layers of pain and misunderstanding.
My fingers tightened into tense knots, reflecting the turmoil inside me. His increased presence hadn’t gone unnoticed, a small flicker of hope ignited within me, but I was cautious not to let it flare too brightly. Gazing down at myself, I scrutinized the subtle curve of my belly. It was a secret I guarded closely, a question of how much longer this clandestine truth could be contained. The delicate prospect of time loomed ahead – how much longer could the concealment of my pregnancy be sustained? I yearned for our reconciliation to be born of genuine emotion, not solely due to the impending child. It was essential for us to rediscover our path back to each other, propelled by the unyielding strength of our love, a force capable of surmounting any challenge. Nonetheless, the day was approaching when the facade would crumble, revealing the undeniable truth. After all, I was well into my twelfth week of pregnancy.
My trance was broken by Harper’s voice, tugging me back from the depths of my contemplation. Her face wore a mask of concern, her brow furrowed in worry. “Millie,” she uttered softly, imploringly.
Summoning courage, I inhaled deeply before confessing, “I’m pregnant.”
Harper’s reaction was visceral, a mix of astonishment and concern. She shifted her gaze downward, fixated on my abdomen. “How far along?” Her voice quivered.
“Twelfth week,” I revealed, a blend of relief and vulnerability painting my words.
Relief washed over Harper’s features, softening the edges of her concern. “So that’s why you’ve been unwell?”
With a confirming nod, I managed a faint, self-deprecating chuckle. “Seems my misfortune includes lingering sickness.”
“Your misfortune, really? More like an unexpected twist, getting entangled with Gio’s child.” Her words were laced with irony, her frown deepening. “Weren’t you on the pill?”
I admitted with a heavy sigh, “I was. But amidst all the chaos with Sienna and Dario, I sometimes forgot. This wasn’t what I intended. Gio isn’t ready for this.” Nor did he ever intend to be.
Harper directed her gaze to my stomach, her hand tentatively reaching out but hesitating inches away. “May I?”
Assured by our privacy, I consented with a nod. Her hand made contact with my bump, and I felt a surprising wave of comfort beneath her touch.
“It’s so small still. It’s hard to fathom a tiny life inside,” she mused, her voice tinged with wonder.
“I know,” I replied, my gaze fixed on her hand against my belly, yearning for it to be Gio’s. Unbidden tears welled up.
Her compassion overflowed as she pulled me into a gentle embrace. “Oh, Millie. I hate to see you like this.”
The confession came in a choked whisper, laden with loneliness, “I’m so alone, Harper. I ache for him.”
Harper’s retort was sharp, reminding me of reality. “You see him, furious, nearly every damn day, Millie.”
“I miss the way things used to be. His kisses, his touch, the warmth of his presence beside me at night. I miss his love,” I admitted, a lump forming in my throat. “I miss being held.”
In a gesture of solace, Harper patted her lap, and I lowered my head onto it. Her fingers wove through my hair, an echo of the comfort she had always provided. I surrendered, shutting my eyes, allowing the serenity of her touch to wash over me. My sisters and the life within me were now my main sources of love. Would it suffice? Uncertainty lingered, but it was a bridge I had no choice but to cross. A gentle, familiar melody escaped Harper’s lips, a tune of solace. Tears found their way past my lashes as I joined in, humming a lullaby that had once been sung by our mother.
The melody ceased abruptly, replaced by tension as footsteps reverberated nearby. The steps were familiar, and I braced myself as I slowly opened my eyes.
In the foyer stood Gio and Sebastian, observing us. Gio’s countenance was inscrutable, a mask that had been in place for weeks now. He held me at arm’s length, refusing to let me in, even emotionally. Lifting my head from Harper’s lap, I fought the urge to cradle my belly, instead rising to my feet. With a murmured apology to Harper, I ascended the stairs, aware that Gio’s footsteps were absent. As they had been, more and more frequently.
GIO
As Sebastian and I stepped into the mansion, a soft, almost melodic hum enveloped us, creating an odd contrast against the tension that immediately gripped my chest. We followed the gentle hum through the spacious living area, and what I witnessed there struck me deeply. Millie, wrapped in a vulnerable coil on the couch, her head cradled in the lap of her sister Harper. With delicate strokes, Harper’s hand grazed Millie’s pale blonde hair, tears etching trails down her cheeks cheeks that held an almost unnerving pallor, flawless yet disconcertingly drained.
Harper’s demeanor shifted abruptly as her gaze locked onto me. Her eyes, once familiar, now harbored a hardness that didn’t bother to conceal the disdain she held for me. Frankly, I couldn’t muster the energy to care about her animosity. But Millie, seeing her in this state, tore through my defenses. Those stunning blue eyes that slowly lifted, exposing a cocktail of hurt and despair as they connected with mine. It was like a physical blow, a knife twisted within my gut, something far worse than mere physical pain.
Millie struggled to sit up, her motions betraying a certain fragility, as if her own body had turned foreign to her, as if something intangible was chaining her down. I couldn’t quite pinpoint it, this inexplicable restraint she seemed to be grappling with. She avoided my gaze, slinking past me with a head bowed in a haste that felt almost evasive. It was both a relief and an ache a relief because it made it easier to not confront her, to keep the tempest of emotions dormant, and an ache because the easier it became to ignore her, the harder it grew to suppress the tumult she stirred within me.
That day in the kitchen, when her composure had shattered, I’d felt the seams of my self-control fraying. When she had knelt there, her vulnerability laid bare, I had yearned to hold her close, to offer solace in the face of her brokenness. Yet, it was incongruous. Millie was never meant to kneel, never meant to appear so utterly defeated. In a world of chaos, she remained the queen, untouched by the murk surrounding her.
Every time she was near, whenever our eyes clashed, I fought the urge to voice an apology that threatened to spill forth a sorry laden with all the guilt and regret that festered within me. She had wronged me, that much was true, though not in the way my accusations had painted. Still, her actions had been a betrayal, a betrayal undertaken thrice, for the sake of her siblings.
Harper leapt from the sofa, a tempest in her own right, her anger directed squarely at me. Sebastian, attempting to diffuse the situation, raised his hands in a placating gesture, but Harper paid him no heed as she barreled toward me. A fiery push met my chest, and I met her intensity with a steely gaze, rooted in place by something more potent than mere obstinacy. Her hands curled into fists, and I sensed her contemplation of striking me.
Sebastian, recognizing the impending eruption, clasped her wrist, urging her to regain control. “Harper, calm down,” he murmured, a touch of desperation in his voice.
“Get a grip? Seriously?” Her voice dripped with derision, even as she shook off his grasp to continue her confrontation with me. Her gaze pierced upward, the disdain transformed into raw vehemence. “Is it that hard for you to take your head out of your damn ego and apologize to Millie, you insufferable imbecile? Your stubbornness is tearing everything apart.”
The onslaught of her insults had become a familiar backdrop. She was judicious enough to unveil them within the walls of familial solidarity, knowing that I tolerated her insolence primarily because of Sebastian and Millie. “Apologize?” I growled, my voice a low rasp, as I shot a scowl right back at her. Yet, she held her ground, unflinching.
“Yes, apologize,” she snapped, unyielding. “You damn well know she never betrayed you, and you treated her like garbage anyway. You still do.”
My denial was almost automatic, a reflexive defense mechanism against the accusations. But deep within, buried beneath layers of pride and pain, I knew there was truth in her words.