Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Oh, I agree,” Jenni says, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she works. “No matter how overwhelming this is right now, it’s good. It’s a step in the right direction.”
I want to believe her, but I’m too practical to get my hopes up. We won’t land orders like this often. Still, even a one-time windfall helps. Whatever it takes to get the bakery closer to surviving.
I twist to set another box on the counter, ready for Margarita to load up when the oven’s done. Moving too fast, I pull a muscle in my upper back. I wince, breathing through the twinge. It hits so suddenly I can’t mask it.
“Liliana!” Jenni notices, of course. “Take it easy.”
I sigh at her mothering. She’s still the only one who knows about the pregnancy, and she’s kept her word. She hasn’t told anyone. But scolding me now is just one more sign of how closely she’s watching my status and the changes I’m going through.
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
I am. That little flare of pain isn’t from the pregnancy. It’s from sleeping on her couch, which isn’t comfortable at all, but I’d never open my mouth to complain. I’m far too grateful for her. For her friendship, her willingness to work hard, her openness to let me stay. Her secrecy is a blessing too.
I have to wonder when the guilt will catch up to me for taking advantage though.
Because as I stand here and shift my weight on my feet, so tired from the long day already, I imagine how much worse I’d feel when I actually start to show. And when the baby comes.
I can’t be in this predicament then. I refuse to burden her with the expectation to offer me her apartment with a newborn. And the bakery can’t afford to be short-staffed again. I need to be here, to work, especially with my parents unable to be here.
Something will need to give, though.
I need to project further ahead and be prepared to welcome this baby on my own. Even with Jenni’s help, I’ll be forced into the situation of being a single mother.
Because the alternative is just not happening.
Any time I try to rehearse how I’d tell Anton I’m pregnant with his child, I’m dragged right back to the memory of him complaining about Roman. About how he can’t trust him with the leadership of the Bratva. How he wants an heir he can rely on, a child who wouldn’t disappoint him.
That’s how Anton would see our baby. Not as a precious life, but as a thing, an employee, someone to expect servitude from. It’s sort of what I’m doing here, busting my butt for my parents’ bakery, but they never forced this on me. They never ordered me to do it to appease them.
If I had wanted to go into something else in college, they would’ve supported me going after my dreams. That’s how I want to raise my child, too, with unconditional love. Something that Anton hasn’t ever shown Roman.
Then again, I can’t blame him.
Roman shouldn’t necessarily have to earn his father’s love. No child should. But that doesn’t absolve him of how he’s taken advantage of his father either. By never respecting him, never trying to do anything for himself while he waits for an easy way through life, Roman hasn’t deserved anything from Anton.
I shake my head, catching myself from spiraling down with these thoughts again.
I can’t focus on Anton. Or how he still makes me miss his touch. Or how often I drift into naughty what-ifs, daydreaming about how good my life could be if I weren’t so nervous about starting a family with him. It’s foolish to get this far ahead of myself. I can’t picture him letting me have any control when he’s so set on owning all of it. I can’t tease myself with fantasies where he welcomes my opinions on raising this child when he’s so firmly the boss.
Margarita and Rob move toward the other side of the kitchen, laughing and in too deep with the music playing to hear what Jenni and I could say. She sidles up to me then, as if waiting for a chance to speak with me.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
I nod and smile at her, then start back over with recounting the desserts in this box I’m on.
“Like really?” she asks again.
“Yes. What’s worrying you?” I glance at her, not losing my place in counting.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just… I’m thinking ahead. If business stays like this, you can’t be working harder or more. Soon, you’ll need to anticipate a maternity leave, and…” She furrows her brow. “It’s got me thinking about if you’ve reconsidered telling Anton about the baby.”
Since she’s talking so quietly, I’m not anxious about the other two overhearing. But her saying those words out loud puts it out there. It’s a secret, but it can’t stay one indefinitely.