Princess's Nine-Month Secret

‘You’re right,’ Rico answered after a moment. ‘I don’t know, and I hate that, because I don’t know what to do, Halina. I want to help you and I can’t.’

Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back. ‘You can help me by just walking with me through this, whatever happens,’ she said steadily. ‘Don’t try to fix it or control it, Rico—just be with me. That’s what I want.’ She turned to him, blinking back more tears that threatened to fall. ‘Can you do that?’

He looked at her seriously, his mouth a firm line, an agony in his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I can do that.’

* * *

He hated everything about this. He hated watching Halina’s fear and pain, feeling it himself, twice the agony. He hated having their carefully constructed world break apart, shatter into pieces. He thought of the baby nestled in Halina’s womb and willed it to live. He hadn’t realised just how much he wanted this child until it was at risk. Until everything he’d shared and built with Halina was at risk.

The knowledge jolted him, like missing the last stair. This wasn’t just about their baby; it was about him and Halina. Their relationship. Their marriage. Over the last few weeks he’d got used to having Halina with him; he enjoyed it, counted on it, even. And he wasn’t willing to give that up.

But if their baby had died...there was no reason to get married. No reason at all, and with an uncomfortable, prickling sensation Rico realised that Halina would no doubt be glad to get away from him. She’d made it clear several weeks ago—hell, all along—that she was willing to marry him but she didn’t actually want to...because she wanted someone who would love her. Who could love her.

And he couldn’t.

‘Signora Falcone?’

Halina looked up, her face pale, her lips set in a firm line. Rico reached for her hand and together they walked towards the nurse, braced for the worst.

The ultrasound room was dim and quiet as Halina lay back once again on the examining table and the technician squirted cold, clear gel on her bare belly, her baby bump barely visible. She looked so vulnerable lying there, waiting, worrying, and Rico’s heart ached for her. Ached for them, because he was so afraid it was all slipping away.

He knew that fear. He knew it far too well, because he remembered feeling it when his father had dropped him off on the steps of the orphanage in Salerno, his face grim but determined.

‘They’ll take care of you here,’ he’d said while Rico had fought tears as he’d begged for his father to keep him. Not to leave him. He’d cried like a baby; he’d clung to his father’s sleeve and his father had had to push him off.

Then he’d watched his father walk away; he hadn’t looked back once. And in that moment Rico had resolved never to let someone hurt him like that again.

‘Rico, look.’ Halina grabbed his sleeve, just as he had with his father, and he blinked back the memories as he was startled into the present. ‘Look, Rico. Our baby!’

He focused on the ultrasound screen, and the beautiful sight of their tiny baby wriggling around like a jumping bean.

‘Baby looks fine,’ the technician said with a smile, and Halina let out an incredulous, shuddery laugh of joy. Rico’s smile nearly split his face. ‘It looks, Signora Falcone,’ the technician continued, ‘as if you’ve had a sub-chorionic haematoma.’

‘A what?’ Halina asked, her voice filled with nervousness.

The technician gave her a quick, reassuring smile. ‘Basically a bleed between your baby and the uterine wall.’

‘Is it dangerous?’ Rico asked, his voice harsher than he’d meant it to be.

‘It doesn’t have to be.’ The technician gave them both a sympathetic smile. ‘Of course, any bleeding in pregnancy can be a cause of concern, and a haematoma of this size is definitely something we need to keep an eye on.’

None of which sounded particularly good. ‘So what now?’ Rico asked. ‘What do we do?’

‘Signora Falcone can continue as normal,’ the technician said. ‘Which is what we’d advise. But we’d also advise slowing down a little if possible—not being on your feet too much, or carrying anything heavy, that sort of thing.’ She smiled at Halina. ‘Giving both you and your baby the best chance possible. And, if you have any more bleeding, don’t hesitate to call.’

Rico’s mind was still spinning as they drove back home, dawn lighting the empty streets of Rome and touching them with rosy gold.

Back in the penthouse Halina went straight to bed, and Rico tucked her in as if she were a child. ‘See?’ he said as he brushed a kiss across her lips. ‘I told you it was going to be okay.’

Halina gave him a wan smile; she looked utterly exhausted. Within moments she was asleep.

Back in the living area Rico pulled his laptop towards him and spent several hours finding out everything he could about sub-chorionic haematomas. The information was mixed, with some specialists saying they heightened the chance of miscarriage, and others saying they had no effect.

His eyes gritty and aching, Rico stared out at the city and vowed to do everything he could to keep Halina and their baby safe. They’d come so close today to losing it all and it had scared him.

It had scared him even more how devastated he’d been at the thought of not losing just his child, but Halina too. He was starting to care for her and that prospect terrified him more than anything.

How could he make Halina happy, love their baby and yet keep the emotional distance from her he knew he needed? The lines were blurring more and more every day. Soon it would be impossible...and what then?