? ♥ ?

??oω I ?e? ?our ƒα??er? • 18 • ? coolandironic

[Name] stood there; her body recoiled from him. She was utterly offended by this, the putrid audacity that this man honed to ever believe that she would care for something as trivial as who he broke up with; but, she could not deny an overwhelming feeling of relief wash over her. Amelia did not seem like a bad person, it was just that green-headed monster of jealousy that sparked that hate inside of [Name].

However, she felt none of that, now.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything? I know you don’t like her—“

“Why?”

“Wh-why what?”

Arthur was taken aback by the repulsed tone that dripped from her voice. Shouldn’t she be happy?

“Why did you break up with her, Arthur?”

[Name] clenched her fists. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear his response. He would pull her back into his arms, just with the gentleness his eyes held, the accent that reeked of charm and sincerity. She didn’t want to be brought back, but she couldn’t stay away.

“She wasn’t…the one for me.”

“Did you tell her that? Did you give her the slightest hope of marriage? Did you talk about getting married? About having kids? About growing old together? Because that’s what we talked about,nike high heels, Arthur! And then you say that to me; that I ‘wasn’t the one’. I just don’t understand you. I really don’t.”

It was increasingly difficult, now, to hold back the pained tears that stung her eyes, prickling at the corners of her tear ducts. How could he just watch her suffer through all this pain she’s been going through with those eyes? With those eyes so full of pity? Why did he come back?

“[Name]…this isn’t the place to be talking about this…”

“Then where is the right place? You never wanted to talk about this any where else.”

Her wrist reacted up to rub a tear or two from her eyes and sniffled. Arthur’s hands twitched, aching to touch her – to comfort her. He wanted to tell her everything was alright, that the last thing he wanted was for her to cry. He had so much to tell her, so many promises he wanted to whisper to her open ears; instead they fell deaf to any of his reasoning,nike dunk high heels, closing him off.

A gentle hand lifted from his knee to touch her arm, when his wrist was gripped firmly by another’s. His gaze was met by a blazing pair of olive hues.

“Excuse me, signore. But, what the fuck are you doing?”

Romano hissed through gnashed teeth. He had heard the commotion from the kitchen and had come to see what the problem was; when he came out, [Name] had been arguing with another man – he suspected him to be and ex lover of hers, given the bitter tone she spat back at him.

Arthur rose from his seat, towering over Romano by approximately two and half inches. The Italian’s steely gaze remained strong while the British man rolled his eyes, tugging his wrist back from his grasp.

“I was trying to speak to [Name], but I can see that she is not a will to discuss things like an adult. Good day.”

And with that, he had left the restaurant.

Sighing, brunette bangs were huffed out of his eyes and Romano turned towards the stone-still young woman, her eyes shadowed over by her hair but her expression lacked any emotion whatsoever.

“Are you okay, [Name]?”

“Yeah.”

No.

“I’m just a little tired, is all. Would you mind if I take the rest of the day off?”

I’m going to bawl my eyes out at any fucking second, let me go upstairs and cry on the toilet for the rest of the day. Pregnancy is a bitch.

Romano slumped his shoulders a bit, and placed a hand on his hip. He allowed his eyes to search her vacant face, seeing if there was any sliver of anything hidden there.

“Sure. Katrina can take your shift, I guess. I’ll be up there at my lunch break to check on you.”

“’Kay.”

She said, untying her apron and handed it to him. Before she turned to disappear up the steps, his voice stopped her for a moment.

“[Name], I’m…sorry about everything you’ve been through. I-I don’t know much about babies…but, you need to relax,air jordan high heels, or all the stress is gonna…kill it.”

She paused, hand befalling on the rail that led upstairs.

“Maybe that would be a good thing.”

= = = = =

She vomited for the rest of the day, after she went back up to the apartment – the nausea of pregnancy had just begun to swoop in, she guessed. Her back ached, red splotches polka-dotted her skin; and her emotions were running rapid. If [Name] knew all of this was going to happen, she wouldn’t have gone with Antonio at the bar, and then she wouldn’t be regretting every choice she’s ever made ever since that night in the bar.

Salty tears stained flushed cheeks; tangled and matted [h/c] hair was held weakly up as she threw-up into the toilet bowl.

[Name] felt her eyes grow heavier, and her knees began to quiver. Slumping down to sit on her bottom, she pressed her blazing face against the side of the cool toilet and hissed as the icy porcelain soothed her burning skin.

Her cell phone chimed from her pocket.

“Hello…?”

she breathed shakily.

‘[Name]? Oh, thank God! I thought I’d never get a hold of you!’

“Lizzy? What…what do you want? I’m…kind of throwing up right now. If I’m lucky, I might up-chuck the fetus.”

‘Ugh, please don’t joke about that. Anyway, I was just calling to confirm that you were going to come to my wedding next month?’

“Wait, next month?”

[Name] blinked, sitting up abruptly.

“Isn’t that…a bit too soon?”

‘Funny, that’s what Roddy said, too…and Mathias.’

She ignored that last name and continued on.

“Did you need any help--?”

‘Nope! Just show up, Maid of Honor! Love you, dear!’

Click.

She hung up.

[Name] sat on the bathroom floor in utter bewilderment. A wedding?

= = = = = =

“[Name], please tell me why the fuck I have to go to your friend’s wedding.”

Romano hissed, adjusting his slim, black tie in the hallway mirror – his lip curled in a grimace. She knew that he wasn’t too keen about Elizabetta, but if she went by herself, it would look outright pathetic of her. And to bring Arthur…

Never mind, that! She had to get herself ready!

“Because you’re my friend too, now suck it up and put on your jacket, we don’t want to be late to the wedding.”

She called from the bathroom, pinning the last curled strand of [h/c] hair to her head. [Name] admired herself in the mirror for a few seconds, her face was slowly losing its warm coloring from before she got pregnant but, she still looked healthy – glowing, almost. Of course, that could just be the effect of the twenty pounds of foundation she slapped on.

Romano turned to look behind him, at [Name] and parted his lips. He felt like complimenting her, she looked really well for being nearly six months pregnant – the baby bulge was becoming more and more obvious. It occurred to him that she shouldn’t be working down at the restaurant in that condition; perhaps take pregnancy leave or whatever the fuck it’s called.

Then his thoughts fell to that blonde British guy that came to La Italia almost a month ago, that feeling that he knew [Name] in the past; the gentle emotion he held in his eyes when he gazed upon her – almost like a lover that was swayed by the fact his girlfriend had become suddenly pregnant. Like he still loved her.

“What…is your relationship with that blonde guy?”

his lips moved on their own, asking [Name] the burning question that has been eating at his mind for a while now.

“What blonde guy?”

She applied a thin layer of lip-gloss to her lips, puckering them out like a fish.

“You mean Arthur? Uh, we used to date. Like, once upon a time ago. He dated this American girl named Amelia for a while, but…apparently they broke-up.”

She gripped the white, porcelain sink – [e/c] eyes dropping to stare at the drain. She felt a sickening guilt twist her heart. She knew she was the cause of their break up, there was no denying the look in Arthur’s eyes that it was not true.

“So…he was your boyfriend?”

The word was sour on Romano’s tongue,nike jordan heels, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Like I said, it was a long time ago, Romano. Why? Are you jealous?”

[Name] teased, wiggling her eyebrows with a sly smile curling her freshly glossed lips. The Italian man jolted, cheeks ignited red flames; of course he was jealous, but he would never admit that!

“N-no! Dammit, woman! L-let’s just go already!”

And with that, the flustered twenty-three year old man stormed out of the apartment, scooping his ink, black jacket off of the back of the chair and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Donna stupida! Accusare me di essere gelosa!”

he grumbled begrudgedly in Italian.

[Name] laughed silently, a few soft chuckles.

“Silly, Romano. You shouldn’t hide your feelings.”

She grinned, taking her purse and coat before closing the apartment door.