Chapter 23: Lovely Beast: Chapter 23

My old bedroom has pink walls.

The desk is the same. The bed is the same. It’s amazing how much my parents didn’t bother to change things. My ancient CDs are still in the closet along with my iPod and the typewriter I bought at a flea market when I was fifteen and thought I wanted to be a poet. Old jeans are piled on top of a shelf.

It only takes three days at home with my parents until I start to feel like I never left.

Like I’m the same girl I was back when I last lived here.

The first morning was the worst. My mother’s quiet scorn could’ve burned a hole in a steel wall. She kept looking at me and shaking her head and mumbling about babies out of wedlock. I wanted to melt into the floor and never come back.

Except she also made me doctor’s appointments. She got me prenatal vitamins and asked how I felt and talked about her own pregnancy and what I can expect.

Her disappointment is palpable, but it also feels good to have someone around that understands what I’m going through.

That first morning, I told them in no uncertain terms that I am going to terminate this pregnancy.

I am keeping my baby.

Dad wasn’t happy, but Mom seemed more understanding.

And now we have a truce. My parents accept that this baby is coming, but so long as I stay here and listen to their advice, they aren’t forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do.

I feel like a sullen teenager.

I feel pathetic and stupid, not at all the impressive lawyer I pretended to be.

It’s like I’ve reverted to my old self again.

And I hate it. I hate the way I keep my head down and listen when Mom goes on and on about how distasteful men like Angelo are and how they’re all absentee fathers. I despise the condescending way my father explains how my life is going to be different from now on, and how he’s the only reason I’ll even survive having this baby. I hate feeling like I’m trapped, like I have no other options, like my life isn’t exactly my own anymore.

And most of all, I hate thinking about the look on Angelo’s face.

The pure rage. The total broken sadness. The pain.

I don’t know how long I’ll survive here, but I’m trying. For my baby, I’m trying.

My phone rings and I answer right away just to have something to distract me for a few pathetic seconds. I’d talk to anyone right about now. I’d listen to someone explain how my social security number was canceled or how my car’s extended warranty is nearly over if it means not thinking about my baby, about Angelo, about everything I’m giving up.

“Sara? Hey, how are you?”

Brice’s voice. Warm and slightly concerned. Fear blossoms in my chest. I’ve been ignoring her calls and texts, like I’ve been ignoring the dozens of calls and texts from Angelo, and now she finally caught me. I’m terrified of what she’s about to say. I betrayed her and Carmine almost as much as I betrayed Angelo.

“Hey, Brice,” I say and curl up on my bed. I do my best to keep the terror from my voice. “Sorry I haven’t been easy to get ahold of lately.”

“Yeah, seriously. Where have you been?”

I chew my lip, considering what I should tell her, but I opt for the truth. “I’m home with my parents right now. Things haven’t… they haven’t been going so well.”

Brice is quiet for a second. “Angelo spoke with Carmine.”

“How much do you know?” Dread pits my stomach.

“Mostly everything, I think. Can I come see you? Can we talk?”

I close my eyes. Tears threaten to spill down, but I push them back. “Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea.” I can explain to her. I can make her understand.

“When and where?”

“Come over here, my parents are both out. I’ll text you the address.”

“Sounds good. See you soon.”

I send her a message right away and get changed. I try to look presentable, but the girl staring back in the mirror looks like she’s haunted. I’m a pale specter. I’m a shadow. My face is gaunt, and heavy black bags hang under my eyes.

Brice shows up a half hour later and I lead her through the house and out back. We grab chairs near the pool and sit in the shade as the midafternoon Texas heat pulses all around us.

Brice looks worried and scared, and I can’t blame her.

“Are you doing okay?” she asks. “Angelo told us about, you know, the baby.”

“I’m fine.” I stare down at my lap. I hate that everyone knows now, but it’s not like I could keep it a secret forever. All my life I tried so hard to keep my feelings buried down deep, but now it’s like they’re spilling out for everyone to dissect. “My parents are helping.”

“Right. They’re helping.” She clears her throat. “Sweetie, are you sure you want to be here?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

She sighs and moves closer. “Honey, you could come stay with me and Carmine if you don’t want to be alone. We could—”

“No,” I say more sharply than I’d intended. “No, it’s just that, you’re too close to Angelo and I don’t want to see him right now.”

“Right, okay.” Brice chews on her thumbnail. “Do you want to talk about him?”

I close my eyes. I very much do want to talk about Angelo, but I know I can’t avoid it. Only I don’t know what to say, especially to Brice.

How can I explain that I’m afraid of him? Afraid of how he makes me feel? Afraid of letting him into my baby’s life?

She married her Angelo.

Her husband Carmine is the Don of the Scavo Famiglia, and he’s equally as dangerous and connected as Angelo if not more so, and to tell her that I can’t let Angelo in my baby’s life because he’s a gangster, that I’m afraid he’s not fit to be a father—that would be like insulting every choice she’s ever made.

And yet it’s the truth.

“It’s not easy,” I say after a long pause. “It’s not simple either.”

She laughs quietly. “I know that. Believe me, if anyone understands what you’re dealing with right now, it’s me. Are you going to talk to Angelo about, you know, the baby?”

“No. I don’t know. I just—” I clear my throat and stare at the pool. “I don’t want him in the baby’s life. Or at least I didn’t when we were still basically strangers and he was just a one-night stand. Now I don’t know what I really want and I’m terrified. I’m so scared of—” I stop myself.

“You’re scared of what he is,” she says softly.

I glance at her. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be?” She sounds surprised.

“You know, because—” I clear my throat. “You married Carmine. I’m running away from Angelo. And it’s like—”

Brice leans forward to put a hand on my knee. “Sweetie, stop it, okay? It’s totally fine. My relationship with Carmine isn’t the same as your relationship with Angelo. We’re all different people, even if Carmine and Angelo have some… similarities.”

“I just don’t know how you did it. How you took that leap.”

“I wasn’t pregnant for one. That helped a lot.” Her smile is sad. “And I almost didn’t. I was scared, and alone, and angry, just like you are.”

“How did you come back from that? I feel like I’m trapped, like no matter what I do, I’m making a mistake.” I sit up straight and rub my eyes, willing myself not to start crying again. I’ve cried more these past few days than I had in my entire life combined. “I could stay here and let my parents help me, and maybe that would be the best thing for my baby. I know growing up without a father wouldn’t be great—but maybe I’ll meet someone else. Or I could go with Angelo, take a risk, live a little, and he might even turn out to be a good partner. But I don’t know, and whatever I decide isn’t only about what I want anymore.”

“It’s not easy,” Brice says. “You have more than yourself to think about. I really don’t know what I would’ve done if I had been in your position.”

I collapse back against the chair. A strange relief floods through me. “I thought you’d be so mad,” I say and laugh stupidly. “I’m so happy you’re not.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Brice moves closer and hugs me. I’ve never been the emotional type, and I feel so pathetic every time a lump forms in my throat and I have to swallow it away or else end up sobbing again. Brice holds me tighter and I hug her back and I stay like that for a minute, because she’s right, she’s the only person in the whole world that comes close to understanding what I feel right now.

“I just need to stay here for a while longer and figure out what to do,” I say and wipe my eyes. “Fortunately, work is being flexible for once.”

“Well, speaking of work—” Brice shifts uncomfortably. “Carmine wanted me to ask you about the case.”

“I think I need to step aside,” I say and look down at my hands. “Tell Carmine I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure?”

“I did a lot of the legwork already. Angelo knows the details. Bring what I found to some other lawyer, someone expensive. They’ll get Nicolas out of trouble.”

“We could do that,” Brice says and sighs as she leans back. “But don’t you want to get credit?”

“I just want to get through today,” I say with a laugh.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do when it comes to Angelo, but I do think you’re making a mistake with the case.”

“Why? It feels like I’ve gotten as far as I can go. Maybe if I weren’t pregnant, and maybe if things weren’t so weird with Angelo—but that’s not where we’re at.”

“From what I understand, this whole thing is massive. Police corruption, murder, coverups… this is the sort of case that can make an entire career. You say you want to do what’s best for the baby, and I believe you. Wouldn’t it be good if you took this thing all the way?”

“That’s why I took it in the first place,” I admit. “I hoped that doing something big would get me noticed in the office. But now I’m thinking it’s just not worth it anymore.”

“Don’t walk away. Do what you need to do with Angelo, but finish the case. Bring Nicolas home.”

I rub my face with both hands. I don’t to give up. At this point, the case is the only thing keeping me going, giving me purpose. I helped crack it alongside Angelo, and I want to be the one that negotiates with those rotten cops to bring Nicolas back home. He deserves freedom, and the longer we wait to confront the prosecutor with this new evidence, the longer he stays behind bars. Vance’s partner is wrong—the kid doesn’t belong in jail for something he didn’t do even if he might commit a crime equally heinous in the future. That’s not how our criminal justice system works. Innocent until proven guilty and not the other way around. We don’t punish people for something they haven’t done yet.

I glance at her. “You’re killing me here, you know that?”

“Good. I think it’d be a huge mistake you’d regret forever if you let someone else finish what you started.”

“You say that with such confidence.”

“Well, I very smart.”

“Fine.” I wave a hand at her like I’m trying to swat a fly. “I’ll stay on, okay? But tell Carmine that Angelo has to go. I’ll finish things on my end, but I’m not working with him anymore.”

“Understood. I’ll pass that along. And, Sara, if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to me. Carmine would be happy to give you whatever.”

I smile at her and squeeze her hand. I can’t say anything because I’m afraid I’ll start crying again.

That offer means more than she knows. I feel so alone right now, so disconnected from my old life, like I’ve given up the girl I used to be and the girl I wanted to be to embrace this new person totally devoid of a safety net and friends and anything resembling security and stability and joy.

I’m a shell, but knowing Brice is here for me helps.

We chat for a little bit longer but she leaves after that. I hug her and she promises things will be okay. I smile and nod and try to keep my chin up because that’s what Sara always does, but inside I feel like I’m breaking apart.

For one brief moment, I had more.

There was Angelo, and there was whatever we had developing—desire, lust, something bigger, broader, deeper. Something that encompassed all of me and more. Something that felt , something I’ve never had before.

Now it’s gone and it’s like I sacrificed a piece of myself and ended up back where I started.

Back under my parents. Afraid, worried, lost, and embarrassed.

The ice queen is dead. The frigid princess is no more.

I’m one massive mistake, and I don’t know if I’ll ever come back from this.

But there’s still the case. There’s still Nicolas. And there’s still the corrupt cops that deserve to pay for what they did.

I can hold myself together at least long enough to see this through.