Page 142 of The Killer Cupcake
"But... how? I mean, when? I mean how—?” Matteo stammered.
"Oh, for crying out loud, Matteo. You were there. Asking him how. You want me to tell him how many times you?—”
“Stop! Debs! Cut the shit! For Christ’s sake, woman. This is not normal. Is it doctor?” Matteo snapped.
Debbie rolled her eyes.
The doctor chuckled. “It happens. More than you know. And it’s normal for Debbie. She’s fertile.”
“See. I’m fertile,” Debbie said and tossed her chin up. “Not some old bitty that can’t make a baby!”
“Jesus,” Matteo sighed. “How long before the baby comes?”
“Debbie is about two months along, we estimate. We'll know more with blood work, but she's strong, healthy, and definitely pregnant."
Matteo stared at Debbie like she'd just pulled a rabbit from a hat. She glared back, daring him to doubt her again.
Then his face cracked. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening."
"Thank you, Doctor. We're good now. I've done this before," Debbie announced, picking up her purse. "Let's go, Matteo."
"Hold on there," the doctor interjected. "As I explained, Debbie, at your age, there are precautions?—"
"I never took precautions before."
"Pills. He means pills, not precautions," Matteo translated. "She'll take them. Doc, give me everything—instructions, pills, phone numbers, backup phone numbers. We gotta fly to... uh, we're traveling soon. That okay?"
"Should be fine, but—" the doctor stammered.
"Perfect. Thank you." Matteo pumped the doctor's hand while the man tried to lecture Debbie, who responded with Olympic-level eye rolling.
The moment the door closed behind the doctor, Debbie rounded on Matteo. "You never believe me when it counts!"
Instead of answering, he swept her up in his arms, spinning her around. He kissed her face—forehead, cheeks, nose—until she dissolved into giggles.
"Okay, okay! You're forgiven!" Debbie squealed.
He set her down gently, then dropped to his knees. Pressing his face against her belly, he whispered something she couldn't hear, then kissed the spot where their miracle was growing.
"See?" Debbie's voice went soft, fingers threading through his hair. "I told you we're a family again."
"If it's a boy..." Matteo looked up at her, eyes shining. "I want to name him Jose."
Debbie's hand stilled. "What?"
He stood, cradling her face in his hands. "Jose. He's up there with Ma, watching over us. He always believed in us, Debs. Even when we didn't believe in ourselves. This baby... it's his faith paying off too. Because Junior has forgiven me. My son has forgiven me.”
Tears spilled down Debbie's cheeks. She pulled him close, holding on tight. Matteo breathed deep—relief, gratitude, and something that felt dangerously close to redemption.
After all the bad he'd done, maybe God was finally giving him a chance to do something good.
Cefalù - Sicily 1978
Kathy woke to the sun kissing her face. It was a gentle, persistent warmth; the light was soft and golden. It’s painted the inside of her eyelids yellow. She stirred, turning into the pillow with a contented murmur, only to feel the cool, empty space beside her. The surprise of it made her open her eyes.
Carmelo was a silhouette against the blazing blue sky, flinging open the final set of French doors. Light, pure and unfiltered, came pouring into the room, not just through windows but from all sides, as if the very walls of the Sicilian villa were designed to drink in the morning.
“Stop,” she groaned, her voice husky with sleep. She shielded her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “What time is it? Come back to bed.”
