*Olivia*
A month passed, in all its jittering anxiety, and the day ca to receive the results. A car full of Gio’s n drove behind us, as always, but Gio had seen my nerves and offered to drive the two of us so we could have so ti alone on the way there and back. I ran my thumb over the buttery leather seat of the luxury silver sedan that had appeared out of nowhere and wondered absently where Gio got all these cars from.
“What are you thinking, carina?” he asked from behind the wheel. His hands were sure and steady, unlike mine, which quaked every ti I looked at them.
“I’m worried it’s just ,” I whispered. It would be heartbreaking to find out we couldn’t conceive regardless, but if I was the reason? It would destroy .
Gio pulled one of his hands from the wheel to fold over mine. “I will think no less of you if it is.”
I savored the warmth of his hand, but I couldn’t trust what he said. I would think less of myself. What if it was a sign that I was never supposed to have children?
I worried my lip as we pulled into the lot at the fertility specialist. When he’d first suggested testing just to be sure, I’d thought he was a genius. Now, facing the results, I thought I’d prefer not to know.
He parked and turned to . “We can always turn back now. I’d like to know what our options are because I’d like a family with you no matter how we get it, but if you want to stop....”
I shook my head vehently. “I want our family. I’m just scared.”
He took my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “We can handle whatever cos our way. No fertility test can be as scary as the full weight of a Russian mob family.”
I laughed, but the sound ca out half-choked.
He kissed my knuckles again. “Let’s go, carina.”
I followed his lead. It was the only way I could get myself back into the building.
The cream and white lobby greeted us once more, and Greta, the receptionist smiled brightly. “Valentino, sì?”
Gio nodded. I clutched his hand.
“You can go into your private waiting room, and the doctor will co get you in a mont.”
Before we could reach our private waiting room, we saw the rainbow-coated doctor who’d explained our options to us last ti step out of a door. She t Gio’s eye, and we followed her into our room, hand in hand.
The mont of truth–my heart thudded so intensely in my chest that I thought I might be sick.
Dr. Schmidt led us into her office, and we sat down. Gio squeezed my hand supportively.
She sighed and opened a folder on her desk. “So, all of your test results ca back with clear results. There were no in-between answers and nothing that seed uncertain. The good news is that we can be certain that what I’m about to tell you is true.”
My heart thudded in my ears.
“That’s the good news?” I heard a voice say. Distantly, I realized it was mine.
She smiled softly, apologetically. “It depends on how you want to look at things. It is certainly a piece of good news, in that you can now plan knowing what your future holds.”
Gio’s hand tightened around mine, and I didn’t quite know whether it was intended to be supportive or if he was holding onto as the anchor in his own storm.
“Please,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “just give it to us straight.”
She glanced down at the papers in front of her, then back up. “Both of your tests presented possible barriers to conception. In conjunction, I think it is very unlikely you will ever be able to get pregnant naturally.”
The thudding in my ears grew to a roar. Never able to conceive? Was it true that we couldn’t have a baby, no matter what we did, no matter how hard we tried?
“I—what?” I stuttered, feeling tears gather in my eyes.
She pushed a box of tissues across her desk. “Mr. Valentino has an unusually low sperm count, and many of his sperm are not viable. Mrs. Valentino, you have an unusually shaped uterus and uterine fibroids obscuring too much of your cervix for easy conception. In addition, the uterus issue will make carrying your own child impossible. I’m sorry that this isn’t the news you wanted, but you do have so very viable options for parenthood.”
I took a tissue robotically. Once glance at Gio told he was taking this just as hard. Was he upset with ? Disappointed? I wasn’t disappointed in him, but it was my job to carry the baby.
Dr. Schmidt cleared her throat. “Let explain the options at this point. Your eggs are viable, so if having a biological connection to your child was a priority for you, surrogacy would be a potential option.” She pulled out a pamphlet from a stack and put it next to the tissues. “Alternately, if your priority is children by any ans, adoption remains a compassionate and rewarding option.” A second brochure joined the first. “Regardless, we can help you at least begin the process. Please, take so ti to discuss everything, and reach out whenever you have a decision.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
Gio scooped up the brochures, and we walked to the car in utter silence. The quiet continued through the drive ho, leaving with my thoughts.
I’d been having all those dreams, imagining myself round with a child. I had started daydreaming about Gio singing to my belly, those slow Italian songs he liked to dance to, and in my more optimistic monts, had looked at maternity clothes online.
I had been so stupid.
I could never carry a child. I would never hold our babies in my arms and know, bone-deep, that they were mine. Even the awful parts disappeared in the blink of an eye–the morning sickness and the mood swings and the pain of birth. I missed them with the sa keening agony as I did the glow and the dreams.
Gio had let go of to grab the brochures and hadn’t touched since. I felt it like a bruise, but I didn’t dare ask anything of him in that mont. He drove distractedly, staring past the road, and more than once he had to slam on the brakes to avoid a crash.
We walked back into the house in the sa hazy heartbreak. Dahlia popped out of her room to greet us, but her smile faded when she saw our faces.
Great, I was scaring away my best friend now. But I couldn’t leave Gio in this mont.
Without discussion, we retired to our bedroom. Gio sank to the bed and put his head in his hands. I watched for a mont, wondering if he wanted company or if I could change into the soft pajamas I wanted to wear more than anything.
Then, like a pit in my stomach, I realized his shoulders were shaking.
Gio was crying.
I was at his side in a mont, winding my arms around his waist and pulling him into as much as possible. He slumped onto my shoulder, his face still covered.
For a while, we cried together.
“Shh, carino, I’m sorry.” I stroked my hands through his hair softly.
He turned his face up to , tears glimring in his dark eyes. “Why on Earth are you sorry?”
“I—” The words caught in my throat. How could I explain my disappointnt in myself, my devastation. I could not carry his child. “Because I can’t do it.”
He pulled his hands from his face and wrapped in his arms as well. “No, no, no. If you can’t carry our child, so be it. At least you have sothing to contribute.We don’t know that my sperm will ever be viable enough to work.”
Emotions warred in my mind. The dawning horror of his position, that he had no viable genetic material to donate if we chose to go that route, battled with the sick anxiety of letting another woman grow my child. I could not imagine it. Would she live here? Would she go to her doctor’s appointnts alone, or with us?
Would I get to watch her give birth to my child?
I squashed the thoughts down and pressed a kiss to Gio’s head. “Whatever baby we have will be our baby–both of ours–even if we adopt.”
I felt the tracks of his tears on my neck.
“I’m sorry, still. If I were soone else—”
I shook my head. “If you were soone else, I would not consider starting a family at nineteen. There is no one for but you.”
He pressed a kiss to my collarbone. “I’m sorry this isn’t easier for both of us, then.”
I carded my hands through his hair. He broke so rarely, and while my own emotions battled to overwhelm , caring for him steadied a little.
“Why don’t we put on comfy clothes, have dinner brought to the room, and spend the rest of the night in bed? We can watch that movie you were talking about the other day if you want,” I said.
For the first ti since I sat on the bed with him, he lifted his head from my shoulder. Tears still threatened at the corners of his eyes, but that love I had grown so used to seeing shone through.
“I wouldn’t do this with anyone else either,” he murmured. “You are too perfect. Let’s do that.”
We changed slowly, called for dinner, and queued up the TV in our room. I’d requested comfort food, and that ended up being two of the biggest plates of spaghetti and atballs I’d ever seen in my life, paired with a loaf of crusty garlic bread.
They also sent red wine and water, and I could sense Dahlia’s hand there. She would want to have the option to drink my sorrows away, and to not remind myself of my infertility by doing sothing a pregnant woman never would. Her distant support brought a new wave of tears to my eyes. Leave it to Dolly to know exactly what to do.
We clambered into bed together and made a cozy nest of pillows and blankets, then grabbed the food. Gio took a bite before the movie even started and groaned low in his throat.
I looked at him questioningly.
He smiled, a softer, sadder smile than his usual one. “There is one thing all Italians learn by heart when they’re young, and it’s their mother’s tomato sauce recipe. I taught it to the kitchen staff when I got this place, and this is it.”
I took a quick bite, savoring the dance of acid and heat complented by the spaghetti. It was incredible.
I looked at him, the edges of my smile wobbling. “I suppose I’ll have to learn this to teach to our kids.”
His smile broke as well. “So you still want...?”
I nodded slowly. I wouldn’t give up my family with Gio for anything. He took my hand and squeezed.
“ too,” he said. “But do you want to adopt or do surrogacy?”
My stomach flipped. Did I want soone else’s biological child or to watch another woman live out a dream I’d never fulfill?
“What do you want?” I asked.
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