Page 30 of Say You're Mine

"Capisco," I murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss to her weathered cheek. "I love you, Ma."

She cradles my face in her hands, her touch achingly tender. "Ti amo anch'io, mia figlia coraggiosa. My brave, brave girl."

The ride home is a blur, the city streaming past the taxi's windows in a smear of color and light. I lean my head against the cool glass, my hand resting protectively over the swell of my stomach.

"We're going to be okay, little one," I whisper, too soft for the driver to hear over the hum of the engine. "You and me, we're fighters. Survivors. And we're going to survive this, too."

As if in answer, there's a small, fluttering kick against my palm. A hello, a reminder, a promise. Tears prick at my eyes, love and fear and a wild, desperate hope tangling in my chest.

The days pass in a haze of rest and recovery, the bruises fading from lurid purple to sickly green to the dull, faded yellow of old parchment. My body heals, knitting itself back together cell by painful cell.

But the ache in my heart, the raw, gaping wound of June's absence, remains.

I throw myself into planning, into learning everything I can about Dante Corleone and his infamous operation. It becomes a lifeline, a way to keep my mind busy and my hands occupied, to stop myself from drowning in the dark morass of fear and longing.

Until finally, after weeks that feel like centuries, Amethyst reaches out.

"It's time," she says without preamble, her voice tinny through the burner phone she insists we use. "Dante has agreed to a meeting. His wife will be there - she's taken a special interest in your case."

I feel a rush of nerves, my stomach swooping queasily. But beneath it, like a glowing ember, is a flicker of something dangerously close to excitement. Finally, a chance to take action, to move forward instead of languishing in this agonizing limbo.

The address Amethyst gives me is a nondescript townhouse in a quiet, tree-lined part of town. I take a deep breath as I stand on the stoop, my finger hovering over the doorbell. This is it. The moment that could change everything.

I think of June, of his crooked smile and his warm, calloused hands. Of the way he looks at me, like I'm the sun and stars and every dream he's ever dared to chase. I think of our baby, the tiny, perfect piece of us growing stronger every day.

And I ring the bell.

The door opens, revealing a petite, elegantly-dressed woman with warm brown eyes and a smile that feels strangely familiar. She takes me in, her gaze sweeping over my face, my slightly rounded belly, before widening with recognition.

"Cara?" she breathes, her hand flying to her mouth. "Cara Briers?"

I blink, taken aback. "I'm sorry, do I... know you?"

She laughs, the sound warm and rich as honey. "It's me, Natalie. Natalie Quinn, from art school."

The breath leaves my lungs in a rush as the pieces click into place. Natalie Quinn. My best friend, my confidante, my partner in crime during those heady, paint-splattered days at the Accel Academy for the Arts. The girl who disappeared halfway through our sophomore year, rumors swirling of a whirlwind romance and a sudden, secret marriage.

"Nat," I whisper, tears springing to my eyes. "Oh my god. I can't believe it's you."

She pulls me into a hug, mindful of my belly, her designer perfume enveloping me in a cloud of jasmine and citrus. "I know," she murmurs, her own voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Care. For disappearing like that, for not reaching out. Things got... complicated."

"Complicated." I let out a watery laugh as she ushers me inside, the door closing with a quiet snick behind us. "Yeah, I think I'm starting to understand the meaning of the word."

Natalie leads me down a dimly-lit hallway, the thick carpet muffling our footsteps. "Amethyst filled me in on your situation," she says softly, her hand resting reassuringly on the small of my back. "I'm so sorry, Cara. What you're going through, what that vile woman has put you through..."

She breaks off, her jaw clenching with barely-suppressed rage. I feel a rush of affection, of gratitude, for this fierce, loyal friend I'd thought lost to me.

"We're going to help you," she continues, her tone brooking no argument. "Dante and I, we'll do whatever it takes to bring June home to you. To keep you and your child safe."

Emotion clogs my throat, a tangle of relief and trepidation and a wild, desperate hope. "Why?" I manage, my voice cracking on the word. "Why risk so much, for me? For us?"

Natalie stops, turning to face me. Her eyes are bright, shining with a fierce, unwavering resolve. "Because you're family," she says simply, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. "You were there for me, during some of the darkest days of my life. You never judged, never wavered. And now, it's my turn to be there for you."

She takes a deep breath, her thumb brushing gently over the arch of my cheekbone. "And because I'm a mother, too. And I would burn the whole fucking world down to keep my child safe. To keep my family whole. Just like I know you would."

A sob rises in my throat, gratitude and love and a bone-deep sense of kinship welling up like a spring inside me. I pull Natalie into a fierce hug, clinging to her like a lifeline.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words muffled against her hair. "Thank you."

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