10
Isa
The phone trembled in my hands, the phantom vibrations making me wonder, making mehopethat the call from my mother had come. That Rafael had been wrong and my mother was alive, and she’d called as soon as she had news of my father’s health. It took me far too long to realize that it wasn’t the phone trembling.
It was my hands.
When Rafael had told me my father was awake the night before, I’d been desperate to call. To find out his prognosis and what to expect in his recovery. To hear his voice and just know he still lived. Even if he hated me with every breath in the lungs that had likely been scorched by flames.
Rafe had insisted we sleep, that I call at a decent hour and not the middle of the night, and allow my grandmother to see to him in his first moments awake. He’d only just woken up, only just learned that his wife was dead. He needed time to grieve the loss of her privately.
It would be the only time I could call him for a while. I had to make it count.
“Mi reina?”Rafael asked, touching his hand to the top of mine when I didn’t touch my finger to the screen to place the call. My grandmother’s number was displayed, just waiting for me.
“What am I supposed to tell her?” I asked, turning tear-filled eyes his way. My thoughts always ran a mile a minute, never ending and all-consuming in a way that seemed like I could never find silence in truth. I’d never thought there would come a day when I would be lost for words, when my mind would simply…
Go blank.
But there were no words for what I’d caused, and nothing would ever bring my mother back from the grave.
If there had even been enough of her remaining to bury.
I swallowed back a sudden rush of nausea with the thought, tossing the phone onto the mattress and vaulting to my feet as I made my way to the bathroom. I kicked the door closed behind me and barely made it to the toilet before my stomach heaved, attempting to empty itself in utter uselessness until my throat burned.
Rafe’s hands slid the hair away from my face gently, gathering it at the back of my head and rubbing soothing circles over my back once he had it secured. I coughed, swatting him away as mortification pulsed through me. He needed to get out and leave me to be sick in peace, but there was no swaying the steadfast figure who fell to his knees beside me as I reached up a hand to cover my mouth when the worst of the nausea settled.
Tugging away from his grip, I moved to the sink and washed my face with cold water silently. Rafe pulled the toothbrush I’d used the day before from the holder on the counter, spreading a stripe of toothpaste over it and handing it to me without a word.
I accepted it even though I wanted nothing more than to kick him out of the room and let me recover in privacy. “Are you alright?” he asked finally, stepping up behind me as I spit into the sink and rinsed my mouth thoroughly.
“I’m fine,” I said, exasperated when his lips touched my shoulder. The contact was so sweet, sogentle, that it tugged at the memory of the man I’d first fallen in love with. He seemed a world away in everything that had happened, and I’d thought I would never see him again. I knew that his reappearance was Rafe’s way of helping me cope, of comforting me through what he knew would be an impossibly trying time for me. Even with the inappropriate timing—I had bigger things to worry about in the immediate future—I couldn’t help the surge of curiosity and wondering if that man had been real after all.
If Rafe would be that way with me when we weren’t in constant conflict over the status of our marriage.
“I’ll call Mariano’s doctor. See if he has anything that can help with the nausea,” Rafael offered, touching his lips to my cheek and making for the bathroom door he’d left open when he barged in on me.
“No. I’ll be alright. It’s just morning sickness,” I offered, shaking my head and giving him a slight smile.
“I don’t like to see you sick,” he said, furrowing his brow in confusion. It was adorable in a way; every single time Rafe reminded himself of how unusual his obsession with me was, watching that moment of shock cross his face.
I wondered when it would stop surprising him that he cared.
“Then you shouldn’t have knocked me up,” I said, giving a brittle smile. “Let’s not forget that one of us did this intentionally, and it wasn’t me.”
His nose nuzzled my cheek, and my eyes landed on the twisted little smirk that played at his mouth. “You want the baby too,” he said, and while I didn’t think I’d outright said as much to him, Rafael was capable enough to read me.
He’d seen the concern in my face that came with the thought of losing the baby after the explosion at the house. I glared at him, hating that I couldn’t deny it, but I wouldn’t ever tempt fate by saying something like that. Especially when it wasn’t true. “I do, but that doesn’t change the fact that you did this to me. If you didn’t want to see me suffer morning sickness, then you should have wrapped it up. You made that choice, and now there is no one to blame but yourself.”
“I’ll do what I can to mitigate the symptoms. We can have the best obstetrician tend to you—”
“Stop,” I said firmly. “This is...it’s part of being pregnant. Yes, it’s miserable, but I’m not so sick that our health is at risk. Leave the best obstetrician for the people who need it. Not just for the husband who feels guilty. In the meantime, if you don’t like to see it, then stay out of the bathroom. I’d appreciate it.”
“You’re the one who has to carry the baby and all that goes along with that. I know that, but…” he trailed off, considering the words that would come next. He touched his finger beneath my cheek, turning me to face him as he stared down at me. “Is there any reason I can’t carryyou?”
My chest sagged, more of my weight leaning into his body as I held his stare. Tears gathered in my eyes with the unexpectedly sweet words.
Oh God.