More Than This by Dominique Wolf

CHAPTER 3:

Giovanni

D

ragging myself away from her apartment killed me inside. I wanted to bang on that door until she got tired of me and was forced to answer. I needed to see her. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

The elevator to my apartment opened and I was welcomed by the deafening silence. I had nothing else to focus on but my own thoughts and it was driving me fucking insane. I opened up the cupboard door above my counter and reached for the bottle of whiskey. I didn't even bother getting a glass. I needed something to drown out the thoughts racing in my head.

I was angry.

I was angry at Casey for rocking up yesterday, unannounced and springing this on me. I was angry that the paparazzi caught us together and plastered the story on the front page. It made me sick to my stomach that Isabella was blindsided by this - that was the last thing I wanted. I wanted to be the one to tell her and for us to figure it out together. Not to have the opportunity to tell her ripped away from me and smeared across the tabloids. The parallels between this and the way my mother found out about my father were uncanny and it made me sick with guilt.

How the fuck did they even know she was pregnant?

How could she be pregnant? I couldn't wrap my head around that. Surely there was no way the baby was mine? The deep nagging in the pit of my stomach reminded me not to dismiss the possibility. I've always had a physical relationship with Casey and her words kept ringing in my ears over and over again.

“I haven't been with anyone else, it can only be yours. You're the father, Giovanni.”

She said she was six weeks along now? Or was it seven? I couldn't even remember. Her words were a muffled blur of an echo in my mind after she told me the baby was mine. I told her there was no way. I repeated it over and over trying to convince myself it couldn't be true, but her continued repetition that the baby was mine made me feel sick to my stomach.

“You're lying,” I said.

She shook her head. “No, I'm not, Giovanni. I would never lie about something like this.”

“No, no, no!” I kept repeating. “This can't be happening.”

“Do you think I wanted this to happen?” She spat, “Do you think a baby is what I need right now for my career? No, it isn't but we can't run away from this. I've had time to think about this and I'm keeping the baby, but I am not doing this alone.”

The timelines were a fucking mess in my head, but the constant nagging feeling that she could be telling the truth was killing me. She sprung this on me right as Penelope was giving birth and I had to be there for Alvaro. I told her to leave and I hadn't heard from her since. I didn't want to believe Casey. How could she be carrying my baby?

“We slept together, Giovanni,” she said. “That night after Mala Mía, we went back to your apartment an -”

I lifted my hand to cut her off. “Please stop!”

I didn't want to hear more. She was right and I was sick to my stomach with guilt. I remembered trying to get Isabella out of my head. From the first night I met her, she consumed my thoughts in a way nobody had ever done before and it fucking terrified me enough to turn to self-sabotage. As the weeks went on, I didn't want to give in to what was happening between her and me. I was adamant that I was never going to be with anyone. I couldn't. I couldn't trust anyone and I didn't want to. I tried to get her out of my head in any way I could and Casey was one of those ways. That was until that night at Paradiso when I saw her kiss Lorenzo and I realised I didn't want to see her with anyone else. I wanted her to be with me and I had to admit my feelings to myself.

I didn't want to accept that Casey was pregnant. The denial continued in my head - no matter how hard I tried to convince myself this wasn't true, all the evidence was pointing to the opposite.

And now Isabella knew.

Isabella knew and she found out in the worst way possible. I was overcome with guilt at the way this all played out. I never wanted to hurt her. I brought the bottle to my lips and tilted my head back, the alcohol burning down my throat. I didn't care about the burn - nothing could ever be worse than what I was feeling right now. I knew I shouldn't have lied to her yesterday, but how could I have told her what I knew over the phone? Without being able to hold her and remind her that no matter what, we would be okay. To remind her that this didn't change anything.

And yet, everything had already changed.

I was alone in my apartment with nothing but my drink for company. I took a sip again. And then again. And again. How else was I supposed to drown all this out? I couldn't face it. I couldn't accept it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I quickly pulled it out, hoping that I would see her name on the screen. I glanced down and a rush of disappointment came over me. Sergio's name flashed on the screen and I placed my phone on the counter. I didn't want to talk to anyone right now. I only wanted her. I hung my head in my hands as my phone continued to buzz. This time Alvaro's name popped up.

They must have seen the news.

There was no way they couldn't have seen it. Casey's public persona in the country made her a hot topic for the news outlets and unfortunately, this new story of hers involved me in the worst way. I let the calls go to voicemail. They were going to drill me about the story and I wasn't ready for that yet. I had enough guilt already without needing to be reminded of it. My phone buzzed once more and a message popped up on screen from Alvaro.

Gio, please give me a call. Is it true? Is Casey really pregnant?

I reached for the bottle again. I needed proof that she was pregnant - the scan, a positive test or whatever the fuck she had. I needed that clarification, but I couldn't think of anything right now except Isabella.

I needed Isabella. I needed her and I needed her now.

I placed the bottle down and reached for my phone, my movements slower than I expected. A sudden dizziness started to set in but I ignored it. I dialed her number and was immediately greeted by her voicemail.

“Isabella,” I slurred. “Isabella, please talk to me. I need you to talk to me. We need to talk.”

I couldn't string together a coherent sentence and it was frustrating me. I stood up and ran my fingers through my hair.

“Baby, I love you and I need you to know that. Please, we have to figure this out together. I'm sorry.”

I repeated my apology until the line disconnected. The burning anger inside of me reached the surface and I couldn't hold it back anymore. I reached for the bottle on the table and threw it against the wall, shattering the glass everywhere. I didn't care. All I cared about was Isabella and she wasn't here right now.

I hung my head in defeat.