The Donafrio Donor (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

10: In Which She Closes a Chapter (with a Bang)

“Fine. He has a nanny now and we think he’s making progress.”

I’d expected to be jealous of the easy way Mickey had fallen in love with Theresa – a bright, English-speaking Neapolitan girl who was distantly related to Ana – but I wasn’t. She was excellent with him and he was becoming more articulate with his words, even stringing sentences together, sentences he’d seemed to already know. That was the best part of it. She had taken it upon herself to make Mickey speak – both English and Italian – and it was working.

“Any chance he’ll visit us?”

“Not anytime soon.”

Jazz’s face fell. “You’re still irked about Zachariah, aren’t you? About my not telling you about him?”

“What? I’m way past that, Jazz. I couldn’t give two hoots about Zed.”

“Could we talk? I mean, if you’re not too busy right now?” She glanced around the room. Only three people sat at a table, talking in hushed tones. “I’ll take a seat over there, at that table. Is that OK?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

She sashayed off, trying to delicately perch herself on the tiny chair and wait for me to join her.

Could this day get any worse? I thought to myself. Bonding with my mother’s girlfriend when yet another busy day was coming to an end was far from the top of my list of exciting things to do. Sighing, I walked around the counter and shuffled to her table and reluctantly sat opposite her.

I could do this. I was a grown woman and I could build a fúcking bridge and get the hell over it.

“Libby’s been asking about you,” was Jazz’s opening line when I’d finally settled myself in the chair. “The wedding’s been pushed up. She’d really love for you to come.”

“I think it’s ridiculous for you and Mum to pretend you’ve never been with men before; to live in some sort of little bubble of lesbian bliss while we outsiders are meant to deal with all the pain you’ve caused us.”

Jazz’s mouth became a thin line.

“Sorry,” I told her, absolutely mortified. Where had that come from? “Can we just blame that incredibly homophobic statement on hormones?” I pleaded.

“If you let Fiona and I babysit sometime,” Jazz said gently. She let out a sigh. “Danielle, I’ve only ever wanted to be your friend. I’ve never wanted to come between you and Fiona – ever. If you gave me a chance, you’d see that.”

“Okay,” I said after a long while. “You can babysit. I’m not going to let Mickey miss out on his gran.” I huffed out a breath. “Why did you hide the fact that you have a son?”

“I didn’t hide anything. You just never asked.”

I couldn’t argue there. I hadn’t been interested in anything to do with Jazz Lewis and it just wasn’t fair of me to be mad at her for adding another family member to my already-confusing family tree.

“Were you in love with his father?” It was an unbelievably personal question but I was dead curious.

To Jazz’s credit, she barely batted an eyelash. “No. Unlike your mother, I’ve always known which team I bat for.”

For some reason, that struck me as side-splitting. I let out a laugh, tried to muffle it with a hand, and Jazz’s face broke into a smile.

“But I don’t regret it, Danielle. Zachariah and Fiona are the best things that ever happened to me,” she continued, her eyes conveying her sincerity. “I don’t regret having him and I don’t regret falling in love with your mother.”