His: Tony: The Sabatini Family by Fiona Murphy (sneezy the snowman read aloud TXT) 📕

he would rather have Tony mad than lose his hands. I don’t understand what the hell he’s talking about.

Angry at Tony for still keeping me locked in the house, and with a babysitter. I stomp to the basement and try to work out my anger. I start with the treadmill and hate it. When it doesn’t help, I try and beat the heavy bag but damn, that hurts.

At the feeling of a rush of liquid between my legs, I go still. No, no. I really thought I might be pregnant. Running upstairs, I go into the bathroom, and the blood tells me I’m wrong. Thank god, Tony isn’t here to see me lose it as I go through the duffle bag and grab the box of tampons. My hands are shaking as I put it in.

After having a long cry in the jetted bathtub in Tony’s bathroom that’s even nicer than the one in the guest room, I climb into bed and try to lose myself in sleep. I wake up to Tony looking down at me. He runs a finger over my cheek.

“I’m sorry, baby. Patience. Just because it didn’t happen this month doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

I hate that I start crying all over again. Tony pulls me into his arms and simply holds me as I cry.

All I want to do is stay in bed and hide. Tony is insistent that I get out of bed. We go shopping for furniture together. I flinch when he says to the salesperson, he doesn’t want light-colored furniture because of how dirty it can get with small children. Anxiety is building inside me all over again that I won’t be able to give him the children he wants.

From the furniture store we go out to dinner. Tony refuses to discuss my fear, reminding me that I’m not allowed to think. Asshole.

After dinner, we go home. I try to go upstairs. Tony picks me up and takes me into the library. Putting me down in a chair, he hands me the book I was reading last night.

“You can read, or we can work on your Italian. You are not going to hide like a child. You are going to face your disappointment. You don’t get to pretend like it didn’t happen.”

“What if I can’t get pregnant? Answer me that? What if, after all the treatments and more miscarriages you face facts it’s not going to happen for me?” The words pour out of me. I hate how my voice shakes with fear.

“What do you want to happen?”

I’m confused.

“If you can’t have kids, do you want to do a surrogate or adoption? What do you want to happen?”

“A surrogate?” It doesn’t compute. For him to do in vitro has already blown my mind. The Outfit, the mob period, weren’t into anything they deemed unnatural.  I couldn’t imagine he was willing for people to know or that it could get out that he had gone through in vitro for his woman to have a child.

His head tilts. “You would prefer a surrogate over adoption?”

“You would be willing to do either?”

“I’m willing to do anything you want to make your dream come true. Whatever that takes.”

I’m overwhelmed by his words, and what it all means. I bury my face in my hands. He picks me up and puts me in his lap. “Tony...you are the dream I never had come true.”

***

Christy

Over the next week, it isn’t easy to sleep in Tony’s arms and not make love. I try to initiate sex. He kisses me until I’m breathless without letting it go any further. I’m still taken with him everywhere he goes. I want to be mad, but I also find myself antsy if he’s out of my sight too long.

Once my period ends, I’m eager to make love again only for Tony to not initiate sex despite my hints. I don’t understand it. As the days go by, I’m hurt, certain he’s changed his mind. But it’s only at night because during the day he’s still constantly touching me, keeping me close.

After nine long days without him, I can’t keep from reaching for him. He’s hard under my hand. Only for him to turn away and go into the shower.

Fighting back tears, I follow him into the bathroom. “What the hell is going on? Do you not want me anymore?”

He groans, pulling me close. “Christ, how can you think that?”

“How can I not? You haven’t touched me.”

A sigh. “So that when we get to the point in your cycle that you’re most fertile things...” He shrugs. “I’ll be packing more heat.”

I push him away. “This is exactly what I didn’t want. Our lives and making love to become all about getting pregnant.”

“Two weeks of waiting is nothing compared to holding you while you’re crying,” he growls at me.

I’m tied up in knots at what his words do to me. It never crossed my mind Tony had any anxiety over me getting pregnant. Eddie had barely cared at all. When I lost the first baby, he shrugged, said maybe next time. Then he went back to watching a movie, leaving me to go through it alone. Tony had been so certain, as if he didn’t have a doubt it would happen because he wanted it to happen.

Unable to find words, I walk away. Grabbing clothes from the closet, I use the guest bedroom to shower and dress in. When I go downstairs into the kitchen Tony is gone. Paolo is at the table.

“Where’s Tony?”

“Emilio needs him. Serbians are acting up again.”

Over the next three days, Tony is rarely home. He comes in late at night obviously exhausted. Every night he pulls me into his arms, but he’s asleep before I’m fully awake.

On the fourth day, I wake up to find Tony asleep and sigh in relief.

“I’m fine.” His voice is smoky with sleep. He pulls me down to him, for a soft, gentle kiss. “I need to go into the office this morning. I’ll be