Outtake: Baby Number Two #JohnandSiena #FreeRead

Hey, loves!

It's outtake day, and we're still on the John + Siena outtakes this week. Probably next week too but I have been working on outtakes in the request pile. So, you will get some from there as well. If you want to add your own request in, you can do so HERE.

Please note, those asking for Kaz and Violet outtakes - that's a coauthored series, and I don't write it alone so there will be no outtakes from me on that end. Sorry.

So, do enjoy.

***

Baby Number Two
A John + Siena Outtake
John POV

Luciano hid behind his father’s legs as the retching from the bathroom became impossibly louder. Even John cringed a little at the noise.
“Ma okays?” three-year-old Luciano asked.
John reached back and patted his son on the top of his head. “Yeah, Ma’s fine.”
“Ma sound sick.”
Yep.
She sure did.
“Siena?”
“Don’t fucking come in here,” his wife snapped.
John cringed again. “You got it, sweetheart.”
Whatever she wanted.
You know …
“Go see Ma,” Luciano demanded, pushing at the back of his father’s legs with all his little might. “Go, Da.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Luciano glared up at his father. “Da.”
John sighed.
On one hand, he was grateful his son was so protective of his mother. And on the other hand, he didn’t know how to explain to Luciano that no matter what John did in that moment, Siena was not going to be happy about it.
The last thing she wanted was him in that bathroom to hold her hair back while she barfed her fucking guts out. She had to hold onto a little bit of dignity, after all. There was very little dignified about being on your knees bent over a toilet while you upchucked your breakfast.
For the fifth day in a row …
Yeah, John had been counting.
He knew what that meant.
Siena’s little flu spiel was no longer the case.
It couldn’t be.
“Da—”
“Hey,” John murmured, spinning around and dropping to his knees. He held his son by his shoulders, and gave him a smile. “Do you want to make Ma happy?”
Luciano nodded. “Yeah.”
“How about you go get her one of her special waters from the fridge, okay?”
“Okay, Da!”
“Don’t drop it on your way back up here.”
“I won’ts,” his son said fiercely. “I’m Lucky.”
John grinned. “You know it.”
It was just the idea that he could please his mother—who he loved with all of his tiny little heart—that sent Luciano out of his father’s hair for at most, ten minutes. After all, he would have to be careful and slow not to drop the water just to prove to his father he could in fact do it without dropping the bottle.
The kid was predictable that way.
Luciano’s footsteps had just started to fade when the bathroom door opened, and John turned to face his wife in the doorway. Pale skin. Darkness under her eyes. Frowning. Messy hair. Siena looked like hell—God, he loved her, but this particular morning had been rough on her in every way.
“You okay?” he asked.
She glanced up at the ceiling and said, “I am starting to think this might not be—”
“The flu?”
Her gaze darted back to him. “Yeah, probably not.”
“How late are you?”
“Two weeks.”
John nodded. “You didn’t think to mention it, or …?”
“Never even thought about it at all until this morning. I never stop going, John. I’m lucky to remember when it might be coming up let alone know that I missed my damn period.”
Ouch.
Her tone was biting.
“Sorry—I deserved that.”
Siena frowned. “No, you didn’t. I’m just …”
“Not feeling well. I know, babe.”
Not up to par.
Not herself.
John knew.
Siena twisted her fingers together, and glanced away. “Would you mind going to the store for me to get a test? Just in case—to know for sure?”
John laughed, and crossed the small bit of distance between him and his wife. He grabbed hold of her face, and tipped her head back so he could stare her right in the eyes. “You don’t even have to ask.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He bent down to kiss her mouth, and then hesitated at the last minute. “You brushed your teeth, did—”
“Yes.”
Good.
He kissed her twice, and then pulled away when little feet came pattering down the hall as fast as Luciano’s legs could carry him. He bound in between his mother and father, and held up the pink-colored vitamin water that Siena loved so very much. A wide smile stretched from cheek to cheek, and Luciano looked so fucking proud of himself.
“Here, Ma!”
Siena melted.
Lucky was her boy.
Her Ace.
And his Ace, too.
Lucky did no wrong.
Oh, she loved him.
“Thank you,” Siena said, taking the water and bending down to kiss Lucky on the top of his head. “You’re my good boy, huh?”
“I luff you, Ma.”
“I love you, too.”
“You sick?” Luciano asked.
Siena shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
The boy’s brow dipped in confusion. “Then why you get sick, Ma?”
Siena glanced up at John, but he was already backing away and shaking his head.
“Nope, that’s on you,” he said, “I have things to go buy.”
John.”
“You walked him into it!”
And she could walk him right out of it, too.
They agreed on that long ago—awkward conversations got passed onto whoever brought it up in the first place. Siena owned this.

***

“Okay, let’s let Daddy see if he can tell us what the sex of the baby will be,” the ultrasound technician said with a wink in Siena’s direction.
John’s gaze was already glued to the screen—it hadn’t left from the moment she had swung it around so they were able to get their first glimpse of their baby.
In grainy black swishes and swirls, the tech had counted ten fingers, and ten toes. She’d showed them the baby’s spine, the profile of their features, and the little beat-beat-beat of the heart working just as it should.
It was all … amazing, really.
Fascinating.
John couldn’t look away.
“Right here,” the tech said, using her finger to draw a circle on the screen. “This is a leg, and this is a leg, and this is a bum. So, what do you see in between those legs and above the bum?”
John’s gaze narrowed in on the black spot of nothingness.
Nothingness.
“Nothing,” John murmured.
It took a beat, and then two. He realized what he had said, and what it meant. He understood why his wife gave a little excited squeal, and why the tech was grinning in a sly sort of way like she had just played a trick on them.
Oh, he knew.
Still, it took him a second.
The air sucked from the room.
Siena smiled wide.
“Exactly,” the tech said. “You see nothing. So, what does that tell you?”
“It’s a girl.”
Siena tipped her head back, and pulled John down for a kiss with one trembling hand fisted into his shirt. “It’s a girl, John.”
And finally, he thought, they were almost complete.
Once she was here, of course.
They were all just waiting on her.

***

Lina Siena Marcello did not come as easily into the world like her brother had—she refused to turn, and wouldn’t be moved. And with every intervention that was tried to make the girl move into the correct position for birth, the more determined she seemed to be to simply stay right in her place.
And maybe that should have been John’s first clue.
Maybe he should have known, then …
His daughter was going to be stubborn, and difficult.
And entirely wonderful.
“Lina Siena Marcello, you did not put sparkly nail polish on Daddy’s shoes,” John said, holding the shoe in question between his fingertips like it was a fucking cat that might come alive and bite him or something. “Again.”
“Theys pretty now,” his daughter said.
She looked just like her mother.
All caramel curls framing her delicate face.
Big, blue eyes.
Innocence and life.
“They don’t need to be pretty,” he told his daughter. “They are my shoes, Lina. Just like the walls don’t need to be pretty, and like Lucky’s trucks don’t need to be pretty. They are fine the way they are.”
His three-year-old girl pushed up from the floor with a loud sigh like he was testing every bit of patience she had left today, and she just didn’t have time for it. Yeah, just like her mother. And every other woman in his family that had come before her.
No doubt about it.
Her pretty pink, sparkly dress matched the polish she had used to paint his damn shoes. That had probably been an intentional choice, knowing her.
Once she got close enough to him, John bent down so he was at eye-level with his girl. “Bambina, you don’t need to make Daddy’s shoes pretty. Thank you, but they just don’t need to be pretty, okay?”
Her sticky palm came up to pat him on his cheek, and he swore it felt condescending.
Her next words confirmed it. “Daddy, everything needs to be pretty.”
His daughter.
Was.
Well, everything.
The muffled laughter from the next room had John’s gaze narrowing. “I can hear you, Siena!”
“I can’t help it!”
So was his life.
He didn’t mind.
Much.

Comments

  1. Oh i love reading about them... i feel like they are real people. I love to see how things are going . How life has been!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks. And yes, they feel very real to me a lot of the time too. One of the many reasons I can't let them go.

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