Page 54 of Married to the Mafia Devil

“I love you, Emma.”

“And I love you too.”

He nods and smiles. “You’ve taught me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“From now on, we do everything together.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Matteo

One year later…

It’s finally happening. Emma’s going into labor. Months of planning and it’s finally here. We’ve only just got back from a trip to Hannigan’s Park, checking how the flowers are coming along.

She’s pacing back and forth, stopping to manage a contraction, breathing deeply and rhythmically. “Okay, I think it's really happening now,” she says. “You might be right.”

Amelia, steps in with a reassuring smile, handing her a small bag packed for the hospital. “You've got this, sis,” she encourages, her voice steady and soothing.

Her father, now firmly a part of our lives again, offers a gentle pat on her back, his eyes moist with unspoken emotions. “Proud of you, kiddo,” he murmurs.

Pamela is checking off items from a list she’s made to ensure nothing is forgotten. “Phone charger, snacks, water, extra pillows... all set!”

I grab our prepared hospital bag, feeling a surge of protectiveness and love. “Ready to go make a little miracle?” I ask her, trying to keep the mood light.

She nods, giving me a determined look. “Let’s do this. But no rushing me, okay? I need to take this one step at a time.”

As we walk to the car, Alex holds the door open for her, his usual stoic demeanor softened by the occasion. “Take it easy, we’ve got plenty of time,” he reassures her as she settles into the car. “The others will be right behind.”

The drive to the hospital is a quiet one, filled with soft music playing in the background and her hand gripping mine tightly. Every so often, she squeezes my fingers, each grip a silent communication of her discomfort when contractions hit.

“We’re almost there,” I remind her gently. “Just remember the classes. Just breathe.”

“Like sex, in and out,” she replies with a smile. “I’m trying not to freak out.”

“You’re doing great,” I say, admiring her strength which seems to grow with each passing moment.

She smiles at that, her eyes meeting mine. “You’re strong,” I continue, “and no matter what happens today, I’m here with you, every step of the way.”

As we pull into the hospital parking lot, I can feel her anxiety spike. “Okay, here we go,” she says, more to herself than to me.

Her grip on my hand tightens as we make our way inside. I settle her into a wheelchair and push her along the corridors to the delivery room.

The atmosphere is a sterile blend of antiseptic and anxiety, each beep and whisper adding to the tension building within me.

She clings to my arm, her body tensing with each contraction, her face etched with a mixture of pain and determination.

As the nurse guides us to her bed and begins the routine checks, Emma’s nerves starts to spiral. Her breathing becomes shallow and rapid, her eyes darting around the room filled with medical equipment and personnel.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” I coax, placing my hands gently on her cheeks, guiding her gaze to mine. “You’re strong, remember? You can do this. Just breathe with me.”

She nods, trying to mimic my deep breaths, but a tear escapes, trailing down her cheek. “I... I’m just scared. What if something goes wrong? What if I can’t?—“

“Nothing is going wrong,” I interrupt softly, steadfast in my desire to keep her grounded. “You’re here, you’re prepared, and the doctors are the best. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re not doing this alone. Plus they know I’ll kill them if they fuck up.”

Gradually, her breathing evens out, and she gives me a small, grateful smile. “Thank you. For being here, for being you. I never thought I could do something like this, but with you, I feel like I can do anything.”

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