"It's his birthday."
"Antonella." Nora reaches over and pats my hand. "Bruno is going to hate every second of it."
"He won't?—"
"He will." Nora's smile is fond. "He'll sit in the corner glaring at everyone. He'll refuse to blow out candles. He'll probably threaten at least two guests before the night is over."
"That's..." I trail off. "That's probably accurate."
"But he'll love that you planned it." Nora squeezes my hand. "Even if he never admits it. Even if he complains the entire time. He'll love that you cared enough to try."
Something warm spreads through my chest.
"You think so?"
"I know so." Nora's eyes soften. "You're good for him, Antonella. Everyone can see it. Even Nico, and that man never admits anything."
The kitchen door opens again. Giulia enters carrying a tray with three cups.
"Coffee for the ladies," she announces. "And herbal tea for Nora."
Nora groans. "I miss coffee."
"The baby doesn't." Giulia sets the tea in front of Nora with a pointed look. "Drink."
Kristen takes her cup with a grateful smile. Giulia places mine in front of me—coffee with cream, exactly how I like it.
The smell hits me.
Rich. Bitter. Familiar.
My stomach lurches.
I push back from the island, hand flying to my mouth. The nausea crashes over me like a wave. Sudden. Violent. Overwhelming.
I barely make it to the sink before I'm vomiting.
"Antonella!" Kristen is beside me in seconds, pulling my hair back. "Are you okay?"
I can't answer. My body heaves again. Again. Until there's nothing left.
When it finally stops, I'm shaking. Sweating. Gripping the edge of the sink like it's the only thing keeping me upright.
Kristen rubs my back. "That came out of nowhere."
"I'm fine." My voice sounds weak. Unconvincing. "I've just been feeling off lately. Tired. A little nauseous. It's probably stress."
"How long?" Nora's voice cuts through. Sharp. Knowing.
I turn to look at her. She's watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"A few days," I admit. "Maybe a week. It comes and goes."
Nora exchanges a glance with Kristen.
"Antonella." Nora's tone is gentle now. Careful. "When was your last period?"
"What?" I blink. "I'm not—that's not?—"