her hands. Having Gianna over meant fun activities and fewer rules but recently my sister had been busy becoming a yoga instructor, which I still found funny. She’d never struck me as someone who had the patience for something like yoga, but the activity seemed to ground her and gave her something to keep busy in addition to her online studies to become a nutritionist.
The elevator arrived on our floor shortly after, and Gianna got out, waving two tests in the air. Dressed in tight black leggings, an oversized black pullover with a huge glittery Kiss tongue and black boots, she looked like a rock band groupie. I doubted she owned a single piece of clothing that wasn’t black. Gianna had really found her own style, and most women in the Famiglia didn’t approve of it. Not that they had liked Gianna before.
“I can’t believe he got you knocked up this quickly. That guy only needs to look at you and you’re already pregnant.”
Marcella frowned up at me. “What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know if I’m pregnant,” I told Gianna, then to my daughter. “Nothing, sweetheart. Let’s have breakfast.” I put Marcella into her high chair before I grabbed everything for her banana oatmeal.
Gianna gave me a one-armed hug then shoved the tests at me. “Go pee on them. I’ll make breakfast for little miss princess.” She tickled Marcella’s tummy, who giggled delightedly.
“Here, give her a few of these to keep her busy until then,” I said as I handed Gianna a handful of raspberries.
“You should add Brazil or macadamia nuts to her breakfast for the healthy fats,” Gianna said thoughtfully.
“Check the cupboards. I don’t know if we have any.” Laughing, I slipped into the guest bathroom. It was wonderful to see Gianna being passionate about something. Life as a woman in our world could get monotonous very quickly if you didn’t find something to occupy yourself with.
Once I was done peeing on the tests, Gianna joined me inside to wait for the results, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms. Marcella was busy eating her raspberries but I could tell that she was growing impatient from the way she bounced her little legs.
“Usually I find it nerve-wracking to wait for the test, but now that it’s for you, I’m actually excited,” she said.
“Are you that scared of getting pregnant?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t say scared but I don’t want kids so I don’t want to be put in that position.”
“If you and Matteo are absolutely sure you don’t want kids, why don’t you opt for a more final solution?”
Gianna scoffed. “You know how men are… especially Made Men. Matteo doesn’t want to be castrated, how he put it.”
“Hmm,” I said, my eyes darting to the pregnancy test on the sink once more. The time was up by now, wasn’t it?
Gianna wasn’t as patient as me. She stepped forward, grabbed the test and grinned. “Congrats, your vajayjay is getting shredded again.”
“Really?”
Gianna snorted. “Never thought anyone could be this excited about the prospect of that.” She held out the test to me and indeed, I was pregnant. Smiling, I hugged my sister.
She held me tightly. “I’m happy for you.”
Excitement bubbled up in me. I hadn’t expected things to happen so fast and I couldn’t wait to tell Luca. It would definitely boost his ego, not that he was in need of that.
“Come on. Let’s have breakfast together,” I said, suddenly starving now that my nervousness had evaporated.
Gianna and I settled at the table beside Marcella, whose lips and cheeks were tinged pink from eating the raspberries. I wiped her face with a napkin then brushed a few strands of her black hair from her face. Gianna set a bowl with oatmeal down in front of my daughter, then two bigger bowls in front of us. They were sprinkled with nuts, so she had actually found them in our cupboards. I’d have to thank Marianna tomorrow for always making sure our shelves were stocked with an array of food.
Marcella hummed when she shoved her spoon with oatmeal into her mouth and I smiled, trying to imagine how I’d be sitting here with two children soon.
“Marci is already ridiculously beautiful. Luca needs to build a tower where he can lock her in once she hits puberty,” Gianna commented.
I snorted then took a spoon of the oatmeal. It tasted better than mine. Maybe I should ask Gianna to come over and cook us breakfast every day. “Do you take cooking lessons with your college classes?”
“God, no.