Page 48 of Bulletproof Baby

All in all, we spent two weeks at a motel before finding this place, and it's half the cost of my rent in Queens with three times the space, a yard, and a porch swing.

"This is quiet, honey. I don't think I could make it out here," Frankie says as he puts my last box in the master bathroom.

"I'm looking forward to the peace, the quiet, the lack of people trying to kidnap me."

"So happy you have a sense of humor about it. I do have a completely random question though."

"What's that?" I ask him.

"How are you feeling, lady bits wise?"

I squint my eyes waiting for clarity. "Lady bits? Really?"

He huffs, in such a matter-of-fact tone, telling me, "We normally get together at least once a month for our thank-God-we're-not-pregnant gab and snack fest. We didn't do that last month."

"Yeah, well, Caputo had his claws into my parents and I wasn't in the mood."

"Completely understandable. And then you met Don Barrone. He ‘Kick in the door wavin’ the forty-four,’" Frankie repeats the Notorious B.I.G. lyrics from the song Kick in the Door with a slight bop that gets a laugh out of me.

"Yeah. Val was definitely unhinged for that, and?"

"And then you spent a few weeks with me, two weeks here, and still no thank-God-we're-not-pregnant gab and snack fest? Are you paying attention?"

My mind goes blank and then spirals.

"Ah, you're mathing right now, I can see it in your eyes. Is there a bun in the oven?" he asks.

I gulp. "No?"

Frankie purses his lips. "I'm going to shoot over to CVS and get a few things to be sure. Not to mention, there's no products here, no Kotex, Always, nothing that you typically use. So, I was a bit curious and decided to poke your brain a bit. Glad to see that you can see what I see now."

I look down at my stomach.

"Girl, stop. That's not what I meant. You don't look pregnant. I was just saying that I saw it's been a while since your last shark week. I'll be back. Maybe it's just stress. I heard that's a thing, but what do I know? I'm just a boy in love with himself."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

No.

Don't fuck. That's why you're in this mess now.

Am I pregnant? Could I be?

I start doing the math and it's been at least six weeks since my last period. No condoms and fuck! I don't even remember the last time I took my pills. There's been so much chaos in my life that I didn't think about it. I let it slip because my routine is no longer in place.

I don't get up every morning to eat my yogurt parfait and fruit salad, so I can stay light and leave room for the huge lunch we'd order at the construction site. Whatever the boys don't eat, I snack on for the rest of the day.

I miss those guys already. I don't know when I sit down on the couch, but I'm in the same sitting position when Frankie returns. Bags in hand.

"I did get you some lady products just in case it is stress, or drugs, or whatever, but in case it's not, I bought like fifteen pregnancy tests. Care to take one now?"

"No, I don't want to take one. I don't want to know," I admit.

"Well, unlike my parking tickets, this is something you can't ignore. Lia, I love you, but please take the tests. I want to know in case I have to hang around and help out. We don't need you being ‘A single mom who works two jobs, who loves her kids and never stops,’" he sings the Reba theme song, I’m a Survivor.

"Why are you in a Broadway mood singing about my life?"

"Honey, it's entertainment at its finest. I mean, think about it. Take yourself out of your shoes for a moment and look at this spectacular presentation. It's the greatest show on earth right now. You're pregnant by a mob boss who stole you from another mob boss that was extorting your parents and forced them into witness protection after you got kidnapped. Girl, I am gagged to see the season finale."

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