Page 54 of Claimed By Him

I clenched my jaw.Fuck. Old habits die hard. “Sorry.”

I spent the last four months in various places across northwestern America, hopping between towns, and looking for the right spot that caught my eye. Eventually, I found it—a large piece of land up in Vermont. It had pine woods, a wide lake, a big, double-story farmhouse, and it even covered a section of a mountain range.

I bought it cash and kept the original staff: an elderly housekeeper and groundsman couple who lived in their own cottage on the property a couple miles west of the house. At first, I thought they might cause trouble for me—a sketchy looking, fully tattooed, city man buying the land they grew up on with stacks upon stacks of cash. But they turned out alright, only bothered me when absolutely necessary, and were mainly thankful that I was able to purchase the land from the bankrupt owner and help them keep their livelihoods. Their friendliness ended up surprising me.

I spent the past three months there, living a completely different life than what I'd grown up knowing in the city. I set up targets for my knife throwing and shooting practice; I worked on my Impala and bought a few more classic cars to fix up in the large workshop. I gave fishing a try, and I drank beer on the porch, but a few days ago, I realized I was done.

I’d spent more than enough time away from home in absolute silence. Besides, I owned the property, it wasn’t going anywhere, and I was sure my father would want to come up to fish for a while in his retirement, so I could always visit.

I came home a better man. I had no absolute answers to my existential questions, but I felt content with who I was. One thing the silence and sunsets taught me was to stop overthinking everything. I realized that what I wanted for my life was simpler than expected—I wanted to move out of my father’s house, find my own place in the city, and build a life based on whatever the fuck I felt like.

Being the Romano don didn’t mean I was weighed down by responsibility; it meant I had the power to change the rules if I wanted to.

I also missed Fiona. It was driving me crazy that I didn’t know where she was or what she was doing. That dark, selfish side that always had me following her around before sparked up again with a vengeance. I figured as long as I was back in the city and close to the Morettis, I could at least satisfy my curiosity and know how she was doing.

Welp, I knew now. At this moment in time, she wasn’t doing so great, and for some fucked-up reason, I felt this major sense of satisfaction that I was the one to find her and help her. That the first time I saw her after all these months was a time when she really needed me.

I stopped outside the emergency doors and pulled Fiona out of the backseat, carrying her inside with her head against my chest. A nurse brought over a wheelchair, but before she took her away, I stopped her, leaned down, and looked at Fiona’s face.

“Fi, I need to know. Is this baby mine?”

Her tired, watery, and bloodshot eyes locked onto me, and for a moment, I thought she would nod her head, but she didn’t. Her face turned cold and emotionless.

“No, Tony.”

The nurse pushed past me, and I stood up, feeling crushed. Did I want the baby to be mine?

Of-fucking-course I did. Jesus.The new clarity in my mind forced me to be brutally honest with myself.

I loved Fiona, I always had. I came back hoping to just catch a glimpse of her but seeing her like this made me realize I’d been fooling myself for years. Of course I wanted her. I wanted to be right there next to her. I wanted to be the husband who held her hand during birth and talked her through it, kissed her head, and told her she was doing great.

I watched them disappear through the double doors and ran my hand over my head. This burst of activity and emotion after months of quiet contemplation was like an unexpected splash of cold water on my face. I was wide awake now, and I knew I’d been a complete idiot to ever push her away from me.

“Excuse me, sir?” The voice of a young nurse pulled me out of my thoughts, and I turned around. I had to move my car out of the emergency drop-off lane.

About a half hour later, I was seated in the waiting room of the maternity ward with my head in my hands, asking myself too many questions.

Was Fiona lying? Because I did the math. I got shot exactly eight months ago, and that same night, she told me she hadn’t slept with anyone else. So, why the fuck was she lying?

Maybe because you left, you idiot.

Or maybe it really was Marchesi’s child, maybe she was just in premature labor, or it was Braxton Hicks contractions. Although, her legs were wet when I pulled her from the car, so her water had already broken. I tried to clear my mind like I had in Vermont, but there were too many noises around me. My jaw clenched and unclenched, and my fingers scratched my head.

Then, I heard a very clear voice, as opposed to those swimming around in my mind.

“Tony.”

I looked up. “Antonio.” I stood up and held out my hand, but instead he pulled me in and kissed my cheeks, holding my neck.

“Thank you,fratu,” he said earnestly and looked into my eyes. “You’ve always looked out for my family, and I owe you for being the one to help Fiona tonight.”

“Of course.” I shook my head. “I saw Gio’s car stopping the traffic; anyone would have done the same.”

“Is that what happened? She was in Gio’s car alone?”

“Yes.” I still wondered why.

“Fuck,” he cursed, then sat down, and gestured for me to follow suit. “Mia’s speaking with the nurses now. Gio said Ace called him. He was back at the house with the guys, he had no idea she’d taken the car and left.”

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