[RE-WRITTEN]

Liliana shifted in the stiff metal chair, crossing her legs as she reached for the cool glass of lemonade that had just been placed on the matching wire table in front of her. The sun was scorching today and Liliana was sweltering in her jeans and strappy vest. She couldn't understand how Marcello had returned to wearing his usual suits - instead of the more casual attire he had been sporting in Italy - and yet he didn't seem fazed by the heat at all. He still looked as put together as he had when he had showered and dressed this morning.

"I heard you were in attendance of your grandfather's soiree last night," Barbato rasped, his fingers stiffly curving around his own glass of juice. A teapot lay untouched as it continued to brew in the centre of the table, two empty cups beside it, likely for both Barbato and herself.

Marcello scoffed into his espresso. He was turned away from her, having no room for his longer legs underneath the tiny outdoor table of the bustling café - of which he spent most of his time scrutinising. This was not location he would have chosen for them, of that Liliana was certain. The only reason they were here, was because Barbato requested it.

Barbato had secured them a table away from the others, offering enough distance between them and the other patrons so that their conversation would remain private, not that it seemed to comfort Marcello at all, as she caught him scowling once again at the table nearest to them. Liliana had thought that the number of armed guards under Marcello's payroll right now, would have had him lower his guard, but apparently not. Not to mention the fact that Barbato certainly had his own guards stationed in the near vicinity.

"I take it you did not enjoy yourselves?" Barbato chuckled dryly at his grandson.

Liliana rolled her eyes at Marcello, explaining, "Meeting with my grandfather is always interesting. Though I won't lie, I was certainly relieved to leave early."

"And why is that?" Barbato queried in his usual wispy voice.

"It had become clear to me that, since my marriage to Marcello, my relationship with Valentino has become strained." Liliana hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but it was hard to hide it when she was becoming so tired with all of the paternal figures of her life.

Mercello's hand found hers on her lap, fingers curling around hers in a supportive grip. Barbato didn't miss the action but he held back any form of reaction.

"Valentino does not approve of the union?" The question was directed towards her but it was Marcello who spoke up in response. He hadn't said much since they had sat down, besides the usual pleasantries, seemingly content with allowing Barbato and Liliana to lead the conversation.

"Ironically, he had seemed rather pleased with the news of our engagement, so his new attitude is certainly strange, but not entirely surprising. I've always respected Valentino; he's a driven, ruthless man that clawed his way to the top and has succeeding in holding that position for decades. Perhaps he feels threatened now that Liliana acts as a connection between Marco and I, and the possibility of an alliance exists," Marcello drawled, amusement colouring his tone. "I'm sure the image of his only son, Antonio, grovelling at the feet of the D'Onofrio's for so long doesn't help. Marco is now the only hope for the continuation of a strong Fiorenza bloodline, and if my marriage to Liliana throws his control over Marco into question... it's understandable he may hold some hostility towards me, and therefore Liliana."

Liliana's eyes widened, her surprise visible in her expression. She hadn't realised how much thought Marcello had put into this since their meeting with Valentino last night, and she was certainly surprised to hear even the smallest mention of an alliance between him and Marco. The last she had witnessed, the two men could barely stand one another.

"I see," Barbato mused. "It's interesting, isn't it, what can drive a wedge between a man and his family?"

Marcello's grip on her hand tightened, and Liliana responded with a squeeze of her own.

"Regardless, you both seem to be getting along rather well," Barbato commented as he finally poured out his tea carefully, Liliana didn't want to insult him by offering to help when she saw his frail hands shaking. She merely thanked him when he proceeded to pour her tea as well.

Barbato glanced down towards her stomach, smiling to himself softly, before he looked away and took a long, slow sip of his drink. He was happy for them. The old bastardo really was excited for this pregnancy, for his great-grandchild.

"It's far easier to accomplish a goal, when you've finally settled on one." Liliana glanced over at her husband, meeting his eyes. "I know what I want, and I know that it can't be accomplished by fighting with one another every day."

Liliana was aware that while she spoke, she had yet to sit down with Marcello alone and express as much to him. She needed to make it abundantly clear, that if he was indeed willing to try, and continue on this path of change, then she wanted to also.

Marcello had shown multiple times in the last week that he was honestly trying to mend any distrust and resentment between them, and he seemed genuinely remorseful for his past actions. She could also understand that though their first two months of marriage had been filled with distance and hostility, Marcello had also been forced into this marriage. It made sense that, while completely out of his depth, his actions had been motivated by panic and stress, fuelled by the high-pressure nature of his work and the anonymous threats he had been receiving on her behalf.

From what his brother's had told her, and Marcello's own confessions, she also knew that Marcello had a limited experience with women, relationships, and healthy family dynamics. What he did have experience with was his work and his familia; his whole life had been built around the prospect of becoming a Mafia Don, a man that is never questioned, always respected, and thrives in a male dominated world. As horrible, and inexcusable as his previous behaviour had been, she could understand the upbringing that had lead to such decisions. What mattered now, was that Marcello had recognised the errors of his ways, and was now trying to rectify such actions.

"It helps that I've stopped being such a dick," Marcello murmured beneath his breath, but both Liliana and Barbato heard him. Barbato laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as the skin around his mouth creased with the stretching smile across his lips.

Meeting Liliana's eyes, Barbato said, "It seems you make my grandson happy; I'm glad."

"I'm not entirely sure about that," Liliana spoke somewhat contemplative, almost accidentally, watching her husband as he did not return his grandfathers smile. She truly wasn't sure whether anything made Marcello legitimately happy in life - aware of her husbands neglectful childhood and emotionally distant lifestyle. Their marriage up until this point certainly had not brought any happiness into his life, and though she wished to change that from this point onwards, she feared it would be an impossible task.

Mercello fixed her with his familiar weighted stare, as he uttered truthfully, "I wouldn't be so sure." And it was the honesty in the statement that had the breath in Liliana's throat almost catching.

"Well isn't that a relief," Barbato's raspy voice cut through the atmosphere, dispelling whatever tension had suddenly built between Liliana and Mercello. Mercello turned his focus to his grandfather, his lips quirking only slightly. "So, tell me, any news to share?"

The older mans dark eyes fixed themselves on Liliana, and she knew without pause that he was enquiring about the news of her pregnancy. Beside her, Marcello stiffened in his chair.

"Such as?"

Barbato seemed flippant as he gave a small shrug of his shoulders, but Liliana knew he had to be deeply curious to have pried for the information so bluntly. Barbato was a man with a lifetime of experience; he knew how to carry himself unapologetically, and was sure of himself with every word he spoke. Barbato struck Liliana as the kind of man that ensured he was always the smartest, most informed person in any room. By daring to ask about her pregnancy like this, it showed how deeply invested he was in this pregnancy of theirs, for him to reveal his lack of knowledge like this - even if it was just to her.

"Are you digging for information, Alessandro?" Marcello shifted in his seat, leaninh forward with his forearms resting against the metal table. His eyes narrowed suspiciously towards his grandfather.

"Please, call me Nonno." Barbato teased with a chuckle, unfazed by Mercello's distrust. Liliana laughed as well when she saw Mercello roll his eyes, his expression calming slightly as if their shared humour eased him. "I never have to dig. I always know everything that I need to. But I'll take your answer as a no." Again, Barbato was looking at her, and she at him.

Realistically, Liliana should probably be fearful that Barbato's prying would reveal the truth to Marcello before she was ready, However, Barbato had garnered himself a reputation between them for speaking cryptically, sometimes with no more motivation than to confuse those around him. His question was certainly subtle and innocuous enough that she did not need to worry about it stirring too great of a reaction from Marcello; or so she hoped.

"Why do you keep contacting us? Why your insistence on these meetings?" Marcello drawled. Barbato sighed, his demeanour suddenly shifting to a more serious tone and Liliana found her expression shifting into a frown.

"I wasn't lying when I said I wished to get to know my grandson. My deepest regret was the passing of my only daughter."

Adreana Barbato; a woman Liliana had only seen a crumpled photograph of. Beyond a brief mention of her favourite book, the fact that she was friends with her own mother, and her relationship to both Marcello and Barbato, Liliana knew very little of the woman.

"My second is that I allowed grief to consume me to the point that I could not be there to support my only grandchild, the child that I knew my daughter loved more than anything despite the illness that destroyed her."

For once Marcello seemed speechless.

Here her intimidating, stoic husband was faced – perhaps for the first time – with someone who truly wished to appreciate him for who he was and not what he could do. Barbato's confession served as a reminder of what he could have had as a child. Liliana wondered how Marcello would have differed, had he been provided with a role model who would not have neglected him.

Marcello, despite himself, actually offered his grandfather a small smile.

Barbato was smiling back at his grandson when his head suddenly and violently shot back. His body slumped in the chair.

The café and everyone in the surrounding area paused momentarily, as if to gage what had occurred, before bursting into a rush of feet and screaming at the sound of a second gunshot.

Barbato's body did not move again.

Within seconds Marcello was up, dragging Liliana away from the table, and forcing her feet to move. She was screaming, she knew she was, despite that the only thing she could hear was a sharp ringing in her ears.

Marcello's grip on her forearms was tight enough to bruise and he was too frantic in pulling her as far away from Barbato as possible to notice.

Her feet were stumbling as Liliana watched sombre guards swarm Barbato, while some heading straight for her and Marcello. There was a stern women behind them, ushering them off the street and towards a car that had only just stopped metres away, until Liliana was being shoved inside the back seat, clinging to Marcello as tightly as he was holding her to him.

She couldn't breath as she gasped out a repetitive stream of curses. She was sure she was crying. Her vision blurred and her cheeks flushed hot.

They were locked inside the moving car, unable to see through the tinted windows. Liliana was straddling Marcello, his white shirt tightly clenched in her fists. Her hands were shaking and covered with specs of blood, the same specs that decorated Marcello's clothes.

Marcello's own hands were pushing back her hair from her face and skimming down across her whole her body frantically, checking for wounds. He was speaking, his lips moving urgently, but everything sounded so muffled against the fierce beating of her heart that felt as if it was about to burst from from her ribcage.

Liliana leant forward, her forehead pressed to his as she breathed deep and quick, trying to calm herself. She let go of him to wipe again and again at her cheeks and eyes to dry them of her tears. When she pulled back, Marcello's hand was at the back of her head, bringing her closer again so he could press his lips tightly to her temple, his other arm winding around her waist and pulling her chest flush against his.

She wouldn't have known anything was wrong if she hadn't heard him wince against her.

Mercello was covered in blood. She could see it clearer now, the deep crimson leaking out from under his jacket across his once pristine shirt.

The stain was growing bigger, seeping slowly into his clothes.

"Marcello," Liliana rasped, tongue too heavy and dry in her mouth to form words without stuttering. "Marcello, Marcello, you're hit, you're bleeding." Her voice was rising, words growing sharper the more she spoke as she pushed Marcello's hands off and pulled back his suit jacket.

Liliana was in such a panic that she hadn't noticed the car had already stopped. The door next to her had been ripped open and it was her Marco's hands pulling her from her husband and helping her out of the large black car.

"He's hurt, he's bleeding," she told Marco, her voice shaking, as he pushed her into the house. She kept turning as they walked to ensure that Marcello was following them. Her husband's expression was fierce, his suit out of place from her desperate attempts to inspect his wound and observe the damage. One of his hands was pressed tightly to his side, blood tainting his fingertips, the other hand was clutching his gun at his side.

"Liliana!" Adelina was gasping as their group rushed through the front door, her youngest two sons on her heels as everyone met in the foyer. "What's happened? You're bleeding!"

"I'm- I'm fine," Liliana assured, wiping her bloody hands roughly against her jeans as she turned to Marcello. "How many times were you shot?" Already she was taking his gun from his hand and handing it to whichever of her cousins was stood next to her, next helping Marcello with his suit jacket.

His movements were stiff and slow. He winced at the movement but shouldered the jacket off anyway, gritting his teeth through the pain. His shirt was soaked in blood, some of it Barbato's, most of it his.

"I'm fine, it looks worse than it is."

"Don't be so stupid!" Liliana snapped. She whirled to face Adelina. "Can you get your doctor out, please?"

"She's already on her way." Adelina was frowning at Marcello, ushering him into the lounge area and towards the sofa. He was smart not to disagree with Adelina and allowed him self to be directed this one time.

"Liliana, are you okay?" Gavino asked, looking her over as they both followed into the lounge. Marco had stalking off with his mobile pressed to his ear, barking out orders, while Federico had been told to fetch his mother some clothes, hot water and whisky.

Liliana didn't want to leave Marcello's side, not even to change, while they waited for the doctor to arrive. She prayed Marcello wouldn't lose too much blood or require far more medical attention than one physician could provide. It was naïve at best considering the amount of blood she had seen.

"Liliana you should go wash yourself and grab some clean clothes for Marcello," Adelina spoke soothingly over her shoulder as she removed some of the plush cushions from the couch to make it more comfortable for Marcello - and likely also to protect them from being stained with his blood.

Liliana shook her head firmly as she took place next to Marcello on the sofa, reaching to grasp the hand that wasn't pressed tightly against his wound. She couldn't leave him right now, not even for a second. She didn't care about changing her clothes, and she knew Marcello would not be doing so in her aunt's lounge - he wasn't one to make himself vulnerable like that.

"Your hand is shaking," Liliana murmured, threading her fingers through his, ignoring the fact that her own hands were also shaking. She moved closer, careful not to jostle him.

"He's in shock," Adelina explained. "We need to keep him warm."

But he surprised them both as he grunted out a snappish, "I feel fine." He was clearly irritated with everyone fussing over him, which was idiotic considering the situation.

"Your pupils are huge, your hands are shaking and your face is pale. You're in shock," Adelina scoffed, reaching for a blanket. She wrapped it gently around his shoulders. "You're tough, but you're not invincible. Don't risk your health for your pride."

Mercello had the gall to roll his eyes. How could he be so blasé with a bullet inside him? And after what had happened to Barbato... Liliana didn't want to linger on the thought for too long. There was no doubt in her mind that Barbato was no longer alive. She new somewhere in her was a deep sense of grief but she couldn't allow herself to focus on such an emotion right now. Not when it was panic and fear over her husband that had seeped and settled into her chest.

But Marcello had been so quiet, surprisingly more so than usual. He hadn't said a single word about what had happened yet, he'd been so frantic in the car ensuring she was unharmed that he hadn't even noticed he'd been shot. And now, sat on her aunt's sofa waiting for the doctor to arrive, he was only staring at her in silence with his jaw clenched tight.

She wondered if his silence was due to the presence of her family, and if he would act the same had they been alone.

There was a knock on the front door, and Adelina moved to answer it. Meanwhile, Gavino stood in the corner of the room, his hands stuffed into his jeans, an uncomfortable expression on his face as he eyed Marcello beside her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Marcello murmured, squeezing her hand in his. Liliana nodded, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

Marcello looked unconvinced as he surveyed her for what must have been the tenth time now. The splattering of blood on her mustard coloured vest had her nausea rising every time she caught sight of it. Barbato's blood. Her light blue jeans were similarly ruined, with smears of bloody handprints wiped across it. Marcello's blood.

None of the blood was her own, and Liliana was incredibly aware of how lucky she was for that fact. So easily it could have been her body slumped in the metal chair of the café, or on her aunt's sofa with a bullet inside her midsection.

One of her hands shifted to brush against the natural curve of her stomach.

"I'm fine," Liliana managed to croak out, her face flushing as tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. She felt so ridiculous crying, but her heart was till pounding relentlessly and her hands were still shaking despite Marcello's tight hold on one of them. She couldn't seem to calm down, not as Marcello sat beside her and continued to bleed out. His right hand was still pressed to the wound, his fingers bathed in his own blood. "You're not though."

Marcello's eyes widened at the sight of her tears. "I'm going to be okay Liliana," he assured, shaking his head firmly. She would have believed him if his voice wasn't so tight, and his expression wasn't fixed in a permanent grimace of pain. "This isn't the first time I've been shot. It's you I'm worried about."

His reassurance did not placate her in the slightest.

Marcello moved to lean closer to her, but stopped himself with a grunt and a wince.

"Stop straining yourself!" Liliana snapped harshly, unable to control her tone as a flash of panic engulfed her. "Sorry, but please," she begged, in a calmer tone, though still definitely annoyed with how little Marcello seemed to care about his own well-being. "Just sit still."

Thankfully, it was then that her aunt returned with the family doctor. Dr. Candido was a middle aged Italian woman, with thick dyed blonde hair, that had visited Adelina's house many times throughout the years Liliana had lived here. The woman was far more relaxed around her family than the D'Onofrio doctor who seemed to always be one second from passing out in Marcello's presence. The Fiorenza's doctor was sure of herself, and seemed to not care who she was working for; Liliana was sure she worked for many more powerful and dangerous people just the same.

Federico followed them into the room, shoving bandages and an assortment of other things carelessly into Liliana's lap while he places a jug of water on the floor beside her.

"What?" He asked with a shrug, noticing her scowl.

The doctor roller her eyes at Federico as she moved across the room towards the sofa, but her amusement quickly faded into a frown when she surveyed Marcello.

"Well you're conscious, which is refreshing," she commented, shooting a sideways glance to where Gavino and Federico stood. Both men looked sheepish. Clearly Dr. Candido was used to her patients being in far more severe states, and both her cousins seemed healthy enough now which was a good sign that Marcello was in capable hands.

"I'll need you to remove your shirt," she commented, kneeling by their feet to unpack her bag and put on a pair of sterile latex gloves. Liliana was quick to help her husband, slowly peeling back his unbuttoned shirt from his wound and off his shoulders. "What am I dealing with?"

"He's been shot in his side. The bullets still in there."

The doctor's head snapped up. In seconds she was leaning towards Marcello to look at the wound. He winced whenever her gloved fingers made contact with his flesh.

"And you haven't taken him to the hospital?" She asked incredulously, with a glance towards Liliana.

"I'm not going to a hospital," Marcello grunted.

"You're here so we don't have to go to a hospital," Federico added.

"This is more complicated than stitching up a knife wound. You need to have a scan to determine if you need surgery. I can't asses anything without seeing what damage the bullet has done and where it is currently. It's obvious you haven't hit a main artery or vein from where the wound is and the amount of bleeding but the bullet is still in there and I can't know if it needs to be removed or not."

"Can it wait?" Marcello winced as the doctor cleaned the wound and applied antiseptic. Somehow it looked worse without the blood covering him. Liliana found she couldn't look too long at the hole in the husbands side without feeling queasy.

"What do you mean if the bullet needs to be removed?" Liliana asked weakly, and turned her head away when she noticed the doctor was about to stitch Marcello up.

"Sometimes it does more damage than it does good to dig around and try and remove a bullet while the patient is bleeding."

"I'm not having surgery and I'm not going to the hospital here, not in Italy." Marcello was adamant and the scowl on his face was a good indication of how stubborn he was prepared to be.

"Are you that stupid? You cant just fly back to America in your state!" Liliana tried to keep calm, her voice low and her words slow as she spoke, but she could feel her face flushing with anger. Now was not a time for Marcello to be stubborn. Still Marcello remained firm.

"Someone killed Barbato and tried to kill me and maybe even you as well. I won't be as niave as to expose myself to the public in a hospital and possibly let someone in here operate on me. My control in Italy is weak and I have few alleys." Mercello's attention darted towards Adelina. "I cannot risk our safety."

The doctor sighed, shooting Marcello a disgruntled look.

"Well, there's not much more I can do. You should leave immediately. See your doctor as soon as you're back home. I don't believe the bullet went very deep, hopefully you'll be fine but if I'm wrong..." She shook her head.

Marcello was clean, stitched and bandaged up. The doctor pulled her gloves off with a snap and she began packing her bag again before standing to her feet. Before she made her way to the door, Dr. Candido turned her attention towards Liliana. "Is there anyone else I need to do? How are you?"

"I'm fine, I'm not injured. It was just Marcello and..." Liliaan swallowed heavily, stopping herself from saying Barbato's name. "It was just Marcello that was hit."

"No other problems? No bleeding, or pains?" The doctor looked south, towards her stomach. "It's possible for emotional trauma and stress to increase risks of..." She stopped, as if only just realising there were far too many people in the room to disclose Liliana's pregnancy. "You need to be careful and contact your doctor immediately if anything feels wrong."

Liliana was nodding firmly, lips pressed tight together to stop herself from saying anything stupid. A quick glance across the room towards her two cousins confirmed that the doctors comment had not gone unnoticed. She didn't dare look beside her to gage Marcello's reaction.

The doctor grabbed her bag and Liliana rushed to her feet to show her out - desperate to escape her family. She needed a second to herself, needed to prepare for any questions that were sure to be directed at her. Except, Federico beat her to it, leaving Liliana to stand awkwardly in the centre of the room, abundantly away she was now the centre of attention. 

Gavino in particular was staring at her intently, with his thick eyebrows furrowed and arched in question.

"What was that about?" He asked before anyone else had a chance to speak. Liliana released a wavering breath.

Not now. Please, not now.

"Lil'?" Gavino continued expectantly. "Risk increase of what?"

Liliana looked towards Marcello. He was staring at her, frowning actually, awaiting her answer. The room was uncomfortably silent; everyone was watching her, everyone was waiting for her to speak. Her aunt, stood in the doorway to the lounge, only seemed able to stare at her with wide eyes and parted lips. 

This was not at all how Liliana had planned to reveal the news. She hadn't planned to reveal her pregnancy while Federico and Marco were absent from the room, nor had she planned to reveal it while her husband was seriously injured and already in shock. 

"Risk..." Liliana paused, her voice shaking, "risk of miscarriage, I think, is what Dr. Candido was about to say." 

"What?" Marcello's quiet voice cut through Gavino's loud cursing. Her husband was deathly still while her youngest cousin had become feverishly animated, jumping to his feet and glaring at her husband as if Marcello had planned this, as if he had known all along.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted, as if anyone actually needed the clarification, which did little to calm her youngest cousin. If she weren't so terrified Liliana would have laughed at Gavino's panicked reaction.

"We should leave you alone." Adelina was staring pointedly at Gavino. 

"No- wait-" she tried to protest, only to be cut off by her husband.

"Please."

Merda.

The door clicked shut behind her family. Liliana wrung her hands together in front of her. She took one hesitant step towards him but couldn't muster the courage to keep her feet moving any closer.

"You're pregnant," Mercello repeated. Liliana nodded. "You're pregnant, and we both nearly died. You're pregnant." He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds.

Mercello was deadly still on the couch. He was staring at Liliana's feet but she had a feeling he wasn't seeing anything anymore, not as his eyes misted over. His head stooped and Liliana stood stiff as she watched, mouth agape. She could see the light reflecting from the dampness of his cheeks. He made no noise, his body deadly still, but it was clear to her what was happening.

"Marcello?" Liliana whispered.

***

Mercello couldn't move. It had nothing to do with the bullet lodged in his side and everything to do with the women stood in front of him. He knew he should be saying something but his brain didn't seem to be functioning. He was abundantly aware that his cheeks were damp as if he were a miserable bambino but he couldn't stop the flood of emotions.

"Marcello?" His wife whispered again for the second time. She finally closed the distance between them. He didn't hesitate to reach out and pull her between his splayed legs. With her stood over him, he had to look up at her; she was biting her lower lip, her eyes glassy.

Liliana's hands hovered above him, hesitating, and then her fingers were running softly through his hair.

He leant into her comforting hands, resting his forehead against her stomach.

He didn't know how he could begin to process everything that was happening. The pain in his side was excruciating despite the painkillers the doctor had given him, which he hoped simply just hadn't kicked in yet rather than them not being strong enough because he didn't understand how he would be able to sleep tonight. And Alessandro... his estranged grandfather... was gone. What felt like his last link to a mother he never knew had slipped through his fingertips.

The physical pain he felt was all consuming. There was no room for any emotion, only a spreading numbness. There was no sense of loss, no grief - so numb did he feel, that Marcello had to question just how broken he really was.

Liliana, his wife, was pregnant. It was difficult to comprehend how close he had been to loosing her, and how close he had been to losing his child.

His child.

If he couldn't keep Liliana safe, how on earth could he protect a baby. His life was not accommodating of a child, it barely allowed for a wife. Liliana and his past conflict being evidence of such. If they had not been harmed today, how soon would it be until they were taken from him?

Liliana had fallen silent. She didn't cease her slow deliberate caress. Gentle movements through his hair, calmed his racing heart only slightly.

Q. What do you think about Barbato's death?

Q. What do you think of Mercello's reaction to the pregnancy?

This was such a difficult chapter to write because I honestly love Allesandro Barbato so much and I've daydreamed of him living to be a great-grandfather and him forming a proper relationship with Mercello since Mercello literally lacks any functional parental figure. But I've gone and killed him so I've caused my own heartbreak. Also I rewrote that pregnancy reveal scene about 10 times so I hope I've not made tons of mistakes.