Page 5 of Ruthless Roses

I curl the notecard in the palm of my hand and then lean closer to smell the roses, feeling more appreciated by this kind gesture than I have in weeks.

Since Clay broke my heart.

Little did I know that it would be the start of another chapter. It would be the start of the rest of my life.

delphine

present…

Breathe.Just breathe.

My hand glides across my swollen belly as I wait for the class to begin. Today marks eight months exactly, which means I’m officially in the final stretch. In just a few weeks, the life growing inside me will be brought into the world. I’ll be a mother to a precious baby boy created from the love between Salvatore and me.

This thought, more than anything else, calms my spirit.

I’m able to tune out the murmurs that ripple around me. The other mom-to-bes that congregate in the minutes leading up to class and exchange judgments.

“I’m sooo grateful my husband is very present,” says a curly redhead loud enough for me to hear. Marsha Westman is her name, and she’s the wife of respected neurosurgeon Kenneth Westman. She clutches his hand and shares a saccharine smile with him. “He’s going to be such a great father. Can you imagine doing it alone? What a nightmare.”

The pointy-nosed brunette she’s talking to echoes her sentiments. “Howard and I are very committed to each other. He’s never missed an appointment. He’s in the hall refilling my water bottle now.”

I roll my eyes to myself and ignore the empty space next to me.

It’s okay. It’s fine. He’ll be here. He’ll walk in any second…

“Evening, mommy-to-bes!” chirps the Lamaze instructor, Jannie. She breezes into the classroom full of pregnant women, their partners, and scattered pillows with a wave and bright smile. “Is everyone ready to have a safe, fun time learning some more helpful techniques? I see all the daddy-to-bes are present—oh, Delphine. I see you’re solo. That’s alright. I’ll be your partner.”

My face burns at the feeling of all eyes falling on me. I don’t need to look around to know the other pregnant women of Westoria are staring. Moments like these are their bread and butter throughout their pregnancy, where most days they’re bored behind the gates of their perfect, pristine community.

Gossip is practically their hobby.

How did Mom survive so many years dealing with these types of women?

Salvatore and I moving to their neighborhood has been the most entertainment they’ve had in years.

The scandal of a former ADA from a well-regarded family marrying a mafia boss from one of the most feared families.

So far, we’ve found amusement in startling them. It’s another story when I’m left alone in a room full of growing gossip.

C’mon, Jon… where are you?

He’s never missed a class. Throughout my pregnancy, he’s been present for every appointment, every class and prenatal activity I’ve attended.

Stitches waits outside in the hall trying to get a hold of him. Something must’ve come up at the club.

“Okay,” Jannie goes on, rubbing her hands together. “Shall we get started? Let’s begin with the opening breathing exercise. Ready, mommies?”

Hope sinks, and I accept the reality I’ll be spending the next hour and a half alone. I push out the noise from the other mothers and close my eyes to concentrate on the opening breathing exercise, hand on my belly.

“I’m sorry, class has already—excuse me!”

My eyes pop open at Jannie’s voice crying out. The classroom doors have flown open, giving way for Salvatore to come striding through. Jannie scurries over in a foolish attempt to stop him ’til she finally recognizes who he is, then blushes a glaring shade of red.

Once again, all eyes are on us. But this time, I couldn’t care less as my lips spread into a smile. My heart flutters and the baby kicks inside my belly, like he, too, recognizes his father has arrived.

Salvatore heads straight for me with what looks like a composed, stern face to others, but what’s really a silent apology in his gaze. We understand each other well enough for me to pick up on it. He slides into place behind me, his presence so dominant and overpowering that the others don’t dare mutter another gossipy word.

Everybody’s staring, but they’resilent. Scared straight.

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