Page 61 of Sexting the Don

I find her in the kitchen, a mad scientist surrounded by an array of fruits and powders, whipping up something with a focus that only Nat can muster.

"Check this out," she beams, turning off the blender and pouring the vividly colored concoction into a tall glass. "I whipped up a prenatal and pre-workout smoothie for you. Packed with all the good stuff—kale, blueberries, banana, Greek yogurt, and a scoop of protein powder. Threw in some ginger, too, to keep the morning sickness at bay."

She hands me the glass proudly, and I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. "Nat, you know you don’t have to go all mom mode on me, right?" I tease, taking the glass.

She just shrugs, unabashed. "Oh, I’m totally going to fuss over you—it’s non-negotiable," she declares with that stubborn glint in her eyes that means there’s no point in arguing. "You’re going to need all the pampering you can get, and who better than your best client to do it?"

Taking a sip, I’m genuinely impressed—it’s delicious.

"Wow, this is actually really good. You missed your calling as a smoothie chef," I joke.

Natalie laughs, leaning back against the counter. "Maybe that’s my backup career if this whole Hollywood thing doesn’t work out. But for now, I'm happy just keeping my favorite pregnantlady healthy."

We carry our smoothies to the living room, setting down our glasses as we prep for the workout. Natalie keeps the vibe light, her occasional concerned glances making it clear she’s watching out for me without making a big deal about it.

"Seriously, thanks, Nat," I say, lifting my glass in a mock toast. "For this and for just being you. It’s a huge relief."

"Girl, always," she replies, clinking her glass against mine. "Now, let’s destroy this workout.”

As we begin lifting weights and settling into a rhythm, Natalie checks in. "So, how are you feeling? You're not overdoing it, are you?" She eyes the dumbbells I'm lifting.

I flash her a confident grin as I complete my set. "Feeling great, actually. Eating right and keeping the weights reasonable, but don't think you're getting off easy. I’m still going to make you work your ass off today."

Natalie feigns a pout, which cracks us both up, and we slide into our comfortable banter. "Oh please, as if I'd expect anything less from you," she laughs, shaking her head as she preps for her turn with the weights.

As we switch, Natalie's face gets all serious. "So, are you still seeing him? The father?" she asks, treading carefully but clearly dying to know.

I heft the weights again, a laugh almost escaping me. "I’m not sure we were ever really seeing each other, to be honest."

Natalie knows the broad strokes but not the really complicated stuff, like how Enzo’s in the mob.

Natalie eyes me cautiously, then just goes for it. "Are you going to spill the beans to him?"

I set down the weights with a thud, grabbing a moment to breathe. "Honestly, Nat, I’m not sure. How do you drop that kind of bomb? Especially now ..." I trail off, the weight of my secrets feeling heavier by the second.

She gives me a look of concern. “Something wrong?”

How do I tell her that the father of my child wants to use me as bait to get at my dad, who owes him money? I feel overwhelmed at the moment, wondering how the hell my life ended up like this.

"It’s just … have you ever had a moment where someone reveals a part of themselves that you didn’t know was there, and it makes you wonder if you ever knew them to begin with?” I sigh, feeling the gravity of it all.

“Oh yeah. Trust me, when you’re an actor, you get used to people putting on masks, onscreen and off, pretending to be someone they’re not.”

“I don’t know what to do. On the one hand, he deserves to know he’s going to be a dad. On the other …”

She stops her workout, coming over and placing her hand on my shoulder.

“I’m not going to pretend to know exactly what you’re going through, but don’t feel like you have to make a decision right now, either. Just think about it, you know?”

It’s a good point. Everything with Enzo, Jimmy, and Mom feels sointense. And it is. But there’s no reason I have to rush into a decision about my child’s future.

"Maybe after the first trimester, if things look okay and I figure out what I'm dealing with here."

Natalie nods, her face serious. "Playing it safe, smart move. Maybe you’ll end up deciding that he should know, but your safety and the baby come first."

"Exactly," I respond, feeling a bit more anchored with her understanding. "I have to figure out the right way—and the right time—if there is one."

"And hey, whenever you’re ready to tell him, I’ve got your back," she says, giving my shoulder another reassuring squeeze. A mischievous smirk erases the serious expression. "Enough with the doom and gloom, though. Let's hit those squats. We're not letting leg day slip by!"

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