Page 98 of Dangerous Vows

Who’s here?

AMARA

HOPE WEARS LIPSTICK AND HEELS

“Surprise!” Bianca beams, already pushing past Arman and making her way into the house like she owns the place. Bianca is the picture of chic, wearing sunglasses indoors and clutching a venti coffee like a trophy.

Alena trails behind her, more reserved, but her smile is warm. She’s holding a large bag in one hand and something that looks suspiciously like a basket of muffins in the other.

“Oh my god, you lookalmostalive,” Bianca says, tossing her bag onto the chair like she owns the place. “What are we watching? Something dark and depressing to match the vibe? Please say it’s a mafia documentary.”

I actually laugh. It slips out before I can stop it.

Alena smiles warmly as she sets a paper bag on the table and comes. We enter the living room where she sits beside me. “We brought you some things. Not a prison break, unfortunately.”

“Plus,” Bianca says dramatically, “you’re officially one of us now. The girls’ club is a little ruthless about check-ins.”

I’m trying not to show how much their visit means to me. Everyone I love turns to shit, and I don’t want to fuck this up.

They move into the living room like they’ve been here a dozentimes. Alena brings a handful of books with her, and as she gets closer, it looks like an entire shelf of baby books.

“Okay,” she says, already flipping through one. “I brought the basics.What to Expect When You’re Expecting,Ina May,and even some weird Scandinavian ones that Niccoló swears by because it’s ‘less dramatic.’”She air-quotes, making a face. “I swear, he thinks everything American is a marketing ploy.”

“Isn’t it?” Bianca tosses herself on the couch like a cat and grabs a muffin from the thick, authentic wicker basket, not the Chinese knockoffs. “These are carrot cake muffins, to die for,” she says, drawing the last three words out as she takes a huge bite of one. Her mouth is full. “I know, betrayal. But they’re the only ones Alena could eat without barfing when she was expecting.”

Alena glares at her sister-in-law. “Thanks, B. You’re really setting the tone here.”

I laugh, and it surprises me. It actually bubbles out of me, unfiltered.

Bianca winks. “You’re welcome. I take my job very seriously.”

Alena walks me through the basics—what to eat, what to avoid, why pregnancy dreams are deranged and terrifying. She’s gentle and smart and makes me feel like I’m not completely losing my mind.

We settle into a conversation about life in general and the kids. Then, Amara opens her bag and pulls out a few hardcover books—What to Expect When You’re Expecting,Nurture, and a stack of pamphlets from some trendy holistic clinic in the city.

“I know it’s probably too soon for some of these,” she says, placing one hand gently over mine. “But I wanted you to have them. Just in case you needed answers. Or something to throw at Pietro.”

Bianca keeps the mood light. And Alena tells me stories about Matteo and how he tried to convince her that babies don’t need a diaper-changing station if you’re “strategic with table space.”

“Table space, Amara,” she deadpans. “I nearly walked out right then.”

By the time lunch rolls around, I’m filled with muffins, and my cheeks actually hurt from smiling.

It’s the first time I’ve felt anything close to normal in weeks.

Then Bianca says, too casually, “You know, for someone so emotionally constipated, Pietro did call us.”

Alena shoots her a look. “Bianca.”

“What?” Bianca shrugs. “She deserves to know he’s thinking about her. All that broody ‘I’ll protect her by ignoring her’ bullshit has a shelf life.”

My smile falters just a little.

Because that’s the part I can’t talk about.

Not to them.

They’re his blood. And no matter how kind they are to me, I can’t make them witness me unraveling. No one likes a Karen, and I refuse to whine over the fact that Pietro won’t include me in his life.

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