told them that I’m staying with you as long as you need me.”
I feel my mother’s gaze swing my way across the table, her sentiment as clear as day. Hold onto this one, she’s telling me.
I intend to, I transmit back, meeting her gaze.
“Well then, stay for at least one more night,” I say to Harrison, “I’m pretty wiped. I think I’ll head upstairs.”
“I’ll join you,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me gently up from my chair.
We say our goodnights and make our way through the all but silent house. Our steps echo foreignly as we plod through the foyer. I don’t think this house has ever been so quiet. It’s always been filled with the vibrant energy of my father, the running feet of rambunctious kids, the exuberant presence of F1 aficionados. Maybe there will be raucous laughter and abundant happiness in this place again—when new children are born, when Enzo steps into my father’s shoes as Ferrelli’s patriarch. But for now, it’s like our home itself is in mourning.
Without bothering to change my clothes, I crawl into the bed I’ve had since I was a child and roll onto my side. A numbness has shrouded me in sorrow’s wake, and I don’t know how to dispel it. Harrison sits on the edge of the bed beside me, pulling off my shoes and placing them on the floor.
“You’re pretty good at this caretaker thing,” I tell him.
“I’m good at taking care of you,” he allows, rubbing my back in long, lingering strokes. The touch of his hand sends a faint warmth radiating through me. It cuts through the unfeelingness like a razor blade.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I say, arching my back to meet his touch, “All you have to do is touch me, and I know that everything will be OK. Even now...”
“That’s because everything will be OK,” Harrison tells me, running a hand through my hair, “We’re together, Siena. Through all of this. As long as that’s the case, we’re golden.”
“Could you just hold me for a while?” I ask him softly.
Harrison kicks off his shoes and lowers himself onto the bed beside. We lay together on top of the comforter, my back pressed against his chest. I curl up against him as his strong arms enclose me, keeping me safe from the rest of the world.
“I can’t keep terrible things from happening,” Harrison says, lightly kissing my neck, “But I can help you get through them. Just like you help me. We can take anything on between the two of us.”
My heart lifts at his words. I still haven’t said a thing about the positive pregnancy tests, the morning waves of nausea that won’t give me a moment’s peace. Is this the moment to tell him my secret? I part my lips to speak, but Harrison goes on.
“All I want is you, Siena,” he says, “This life...it’s better than anything I could have imagined. We’re young, we’re crazy about each other, we can do anything. Let’s just make this time about the two of us. We’ll travel as much as we want. We’ll party like there’s no tomorrow. We’ll take the F1 world by storm, between us. This is the perfect time, Siena. We’re free. We can do whatever we like. How exciting is that?”
I swallow down my confession and smile weakly. “It’s pretty exciting,” I say, “But, you know...anything could happen, Harrison. Maybe we’ll find that a more, uh, centered life is actually better?”
“I don’t know,” he smiles, “Centered sounds a bit square, doesn’t it?”
“I guess you’ve got a point,” I laugh, ignoring the tightening of my heart. How am I supposed to bring up the fact that there’s almost certainly a baby in our future? In my most private daydreams, I can’t help but wish for a simple life with Harrison and the little person we’re bringing into the world. Can we have our house and baby and keep our freewheeling youth as well?
My eyes close of their own accord, my exhausted body claiming sleep where it can. There will be plenty of time for this kind of thinking