Rooted (Pagano Family #3)(76)
oOo
That night, Carlo and Sabina got a call. The mother of their baby boy was in labor, and they left in the middle of the night. The next morning, Christmas Eve, the rest of the family congregated at the house and waited to hear. Everyone but Rosa, again disconnected from a major family event, this time because she had gone to Maine to spend Christmas with Eli and his family—a last minute change from their original intention to spend it in Quiet Cove. Carmen tried not to think too hard about that.
Benjamin Charles Pagano was born before noon on Christmas Eve. Carlo and Sabina were home with him after dinner that evening. By then, he was already known by his many relatives as ‘Little Ben.’
Sabina came into the house carrying a tiny, blue bundle. She wended through the hallway crowded with uncles and grandparents jockeying for their first look and went to Trey first. She sat on the sofa with him, allowing him to hold his new baby brother. Carmen followed, feeling a stronger pull than she had expected. Like the baby inside her was already bonding to her new little cousin.
The whole family ultimately crowded into the living room to watch this Christmas Eve nativity scene. Trey looked down at Little Ben’s face, and wide brown eyes stared back. The baby was beautiful. He wore one of the beanies Andi had knitted. Trey patted it and asked, “Pop-Pop says gentlemen don’t wear hats inside.”
Sabina chuckled and pulled Little Ben’s beanie off, showing a light swirl of black hair. “Well, babies’ heads get cold faster than gentlemen’s heads, so that rule isn’t for them. But I think it’s warm enough here.”
Trey nodded and returned his attention to his brother. “Hi, Little Ben. I’m Trey. Misby says even if she didn’t get fat like Aunt Carmen, you’re my brother and she’s your mommy. Like she’s my mommy now, too. She said even if we weren’t in her tummy, we’re in her heart. So you can call her Misby if you want. But that’s a name I made up myself, so only people I say can call her that.” He looked up at Sabina, who had tears running freely down her face. His expression turned to worry. “Don’t cry, Misby. Little Ben can call you Mommy if you want.”
“No, Trey. I would be happy for him to call me Misby, too. I’m crying because I’m happy. I love my boys very much.”
Trey shook his head and turned back to his brother. “Misby says sometimes ladies cry when they’re happy. Ladies are silly.”
From the back of the room, Joey muttered, plenty loud for all to hear, “Got that right.” Everybody laughed, which startled the baby, and he began to cry, showing healthy, strong lungs.
“Little Ben! You’re too loud!” Trey shouted and let go of his brother to cover his ears. With the speedy reflexes of a brand-new mother, Sabina caught the baby before he had barely bobbled on Trey’s lap, and she put him to her shoulder.
An odd sensation thrummed in Carmen’s body, like an electric charge or a magnetic pull. She felt it in her belly, her breasts, everywhere. Her heart most of all. She actually had to tamp down the urge to simply take Little Ben from Sabina’s arms.
There must have been something in her eyes or her posture, because when Sabina turned to her, she cocked her head a little and smiled. “Would you like to hold him?”
Speech deserted her, so Carmen simply nodded and took the baby. It was hardly the first time she’d ever held an infant in her arms. But somehow, it was like nothing she’d felt before. Hormones—it had to be hormones. She looked down into that tiny, perfect face. Little Ben yawned and put his fingers on his face, the gesture of a world-weary old man. Carmen laughed; everybody laughed—but quietly this time. Then Teresa kicked, and, yet again, Carmen burst into tears.
oOo
While the family was still taking turns holding the newest addition, Carmen went up to the room she and Rosa had shared. She’d sleep here tonight. No use going even the mile to her own house when she’d just be back here first thing in the morning.
She took her phone out of her bag and scrolled to Theo’s number. For a few seconds, her thumb hovered. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say—or what she wanted, period. Except to hear his voice. It was Christmas Eve. There was at least one thing to say. She tapped his name and put the phone to her ear.
It rang through to voice mail. She didn’t want to leave a message, so she ended the call. But before she could set her phone down, he called her.
She answered. “Hi.”
“Carmen. Are you okay? The baby?” An edge of worry sharpened his voice.
“Yes. We’re fine.”
“Oh. Good.” A pause. “Why did you call, then?”
Something about the question hurt her feelings, but she couldn’t see what. Maybe the assumption that she wouldn’t call otherwise, that she needed a specific reason, a problem, to call? But that was her fault. She’d left him. And then she’d made good on her promise to have her lawyer contact him to work out visitation. Because she was a bitch.
She hesitated, not knowing what to say. Into her silence, Theo said, “Carmen, we’re in the middle of something here. If you’re okay, then…”
“I wanted to hear your voice.” Fuck! Why had she said that? It was true, but it was wrong.
He responded to it with silence.
She didn’t speak, either.