Chapter 35 #35

Chapter 35 #35
Chapter 35
~Shailyn~

The moment we walked through the door of the Belmar manor, Dante went into what could only be described as overdrive mode.

He immediately pulled out his phone and started making calls, despite the fact that it was barely five in the morning.

"Yes, I need you to prepare meals," he was saying to who I assumed was the house chef. "All types. Breakfast foods, lunch options, dinner entrees, snacks. I want healthy options, but also things with protein, with iron, with folic acid."

He paced around our room as he talked, his free hand gesturing animatedly even though the person on the other end couldn't see him.

"Seafood, but make sure it's low in mercury. Lean meat. Lots of vegetables. Fruits. Whole grains. And ginger tea. Can you make ginger tea? Good. Have everything ready by breakfast time. Thank you."

After he hung up with the chef, he opened his laptop and started browsing online shopping sites.

"What are you doing?" I asked, exhausted but unable to sleep despite how tired I was.

"Ordering baby clothes," he said without looking up from the screen. "Look at this one. It's so tiny. How is something this small even real?"

He ordered baby clothes online, adding item after item to his cart with an enthusiasm that would have been endearing if it wasn't also slightly overwhelming. Onesies in every color. Tiny socks. Little hats. Blankets. Everything a baby could possibly need, and he was ordering it all at five-thirty in the morning.

"Dante, we have time," I said gently. "The baby isn't coming for another seven and a half months."

"I know, but I want to be prepared," he said, finally looking up at me with a grin. "Plus, I'm too excited to sleep. How are you not excited? Aren't you excited?"

"I am," I assured him. "I'm just also exhausted. Can we please try to get some rest? Just a few hours?"

He glanced at his watch, then nodded reluctantly. "Okay, yeah. You need to rest. That's important for the baby. Come on, let's get you to bed."

He guided me to the bed like I was made of glass, helping me lie down, adjusting the pillows behind my head, pulling the covers up to my chin.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Yes, Dante. I'm fine."

"Do you need anything? Water? Another pillow? Should I open the window? Close the window?"

"I'm fine," I repeated, reaching for his hand. "Just come to bed with me."

He did, wrapping his arms around me from behind, one hand coming to rest protectively over my still-flat stomach.

"I love you," he murmured into my hair. "Both of you."

I smiled, closing my eyes. "We love you too."

\---

I rested for a bit, maybe three or four hours of fitful sleep before I woke up feeling restless. Dante was already gone from the bed, probably off making more preparations or calls or whatever his excited brain had decided needed to be done.

I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my mind drifting to everything that had happened. Then I thought about what Dante had said yesterday about his project, about how stressed he was, about how much pressure he was under.

And I decided to help him.

I got out of bed, got dressed in comfortable clothes, and made my way to Dante's study. It was a large room on the first floor, lined with bookshelves and dominated by a massive desk covered in papers and blueprints and various technical documents.

I started work, settling into the chair behind his desk and pulling up the project files on his computer. He'd left it unlocked, which made me think he trusted me completely, and wanted me to have access to everything.

I requested some blueprints from his assistant via email, asking for the most recent architectural layouts for the AI model framework. Then I dove into the code, analyzing what he'd already done, looking for ways to optimize, to improve, to make it revolutionary.

This was familiar territory. This felt right. Even with my missing memories, I remembered how to do this, how to think through complex problems, and how to see patterns in code that others might miss.

Meanwhile, Dante went out briefly. I heard him call out that he was running an errand and would be back soon.

I barely registered it, too focused on the work in front of me. Lines of code filled the screen, and I got lost in it, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I made adjustments, wrote new functions, tested different approaches.

Time passed in that strange fluid way it does when you're completely absorbed in something. I didn't realize hours had gone by until I heard Dante's voice behind me.

"There you are," he said. "I've been looking all over for you."

I turned to find him standing in the doorway of the study, and in his hands was a distinctive orange box that made my eyes widen.

"Is that..." I started.

"A Birkin bag?" Dante finished with a grin. "Yes. For you. For being the most amazing wife and the mother of my child."

He came over and set the box on the desk in front of me, opening it to reveal a gorgeous black leather Birkin bag with gold hardware. It was stunning, easily worth tens of thousands of dollars.

I loved it. I couldn't help it. Even though part of me knew it was excessive, knew it was unnecessary, the bag was absolutely beautiful.

"Dante, this is too much," I protested weakly.

"Nothing is too much for you," he said firmly. "Put it on. Let me see how it looks."

I took the bag out of its box and held it, running my fingers over the buttery soft leather. It was perfect.

"Thank you," I said, standing up to kiss him. "It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful," he countered, kissing me back. "Now, what are you doing here?”

"I wanted to help," I explained. "You said you were stressed about it, so I thought I'd take a look, see if there was anything I could do to make it easier."

“That's... that's really thoughtful of you, baby. Have you made any progress?"

"Some," I said, gesturing to the screen. "I've been optimizing the neural network architecture. I think I found a way to reduce processing time by about thirty percent without sacrificing accuracy."

"Thirty percent?" Dante's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, it's all about restructuring the data pathways. Here, let me show you..." I started to explain the technical details, but Dante held up a hand.

"I trust you," he said. "If you say it works, it works. You've always been brilliant with this stuff."

"Have I?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

"Yes," Dante said firmly. "You're a genius, Shailyn. Don't ever doubt that."

I smiled, feeling a warm glow of pride at his words.

Next, he changed the subject. "So, I've been thinking. About the baby. About our news."

"What about it?" I asked.

"I want to announce it to the family," he said. "Tonight at dinner. I want everyone to know what we're expecting."

I was indifferent about it, honestly. I didn't mind either way. Part of me was nervous about how the family would react, especially given how Monica and Cynthia had treated me, but another part of me figured they'd find out eventually anyway.

"Okay," I said with a shrug. "If you want to tell them, we can tell them."

"You're sure?" Dante pressed. "I don't want to pressure you if you're not ready."

"I'm sure," I confirmed. "They're family. They should know."

Dante grinned, kissing my forehead. "Great. This is going to be perfect. Trust me."