The Truth of Ace

Twenty Five

Madeline Rossi

The view of New York at this time of night was comforting in a way. It was truly a city that never slept. Lights still coated the nearby buildings in the distance signaling life at these early hours.

I stared back down at my book, the comforting, wise and sensible words of Jane Austen filling my head. My hand glued straight to my bump as I felt a kick, but this one was different.

The lights flicked on and I looked over to see him half awake "Love, what are you doing up? It's late" he walked over and stared down at me as he rubbed his eyes "Babe"

"Shhhh" I looked back to my stomach and then it happened "Oh my god!" I stared at it amazed but more so freaked out.

"What's wrong?" I looked up to Ace who stood confused but more so concerned. I reached for his hand and he bent down to his knees "look"

I traced a circle on my bump and seconds later you could see it kicking "freaky" I mumbled.

"It's not freaky Lila" I glared at him.

"Mmm you're not the one carrying the baby inside your body now are you? So how can you say it's not freaky!" he chuckled at my rambles and stared back my blooming bump.

He traced his fingers along my stomach as the baby followed it "Eleven weeks to go" Ace leaned in kissing my stomach "that sounds so weird"

"What sounds so weird?" He sat across from me on the couch "That Kingsley will be here in eleven weeks?" I looked at my bump as I was 29 weeks along, it was weird to think I'd miss it.

"I can't believe we've gone this long without knowing the gender. I was sure that I'd crack and beg you at some point" he laughed lightly and I turned my body to lean back against him laying between his legs.

"What was your childhood like Ace? I know it was bad, but what was it like?" He was silent for a minutes and then he adjusted his arms around my bump clearing his throat.

"Well for starters I didn't really have a mom, I had a Carina. She only cared about putting on a show for Della. The second I knew the truth about my mother she knew I secretly hated her"

"And your mother? What was she like? Do you remember her? I know you were so young...." I felt his chest rise and fall as I spoke, taking in every word with each breath.

"Yeah, I remember her well. I looked just like her and I think that's what drove my father mad. She made these really good cookies and she used to read me these bedtime stories. She had a book of them and read to each of us before we went to sleep. I still have a book she gifted me" he slid out from under me telling me to hold on for a moment as he scurried up. I watched as he turned to the book case on the wall to the left and pulled out a dark green cover.

"Classic edition of Winnie the Pooh, for my sixth birthday. She told me I would go on wonderful adventures with this book and it's characters" he came back to me bending down as he cracked opened the dusted book.

Inside the cover was an aged note from her, Florence. It told him to follow his dreams and curiosity of adventure no matter where it might take him "it's the last thing I really have of her. The last thing she ever gave me"

"Besides the teddy bear?" I questioned.

"That was gifted to me at 5, my mother had a way with her gifts. I think she thought of the long game, of where these may end up?" I smiled at the book. The way he viewed and adored his mother with such little time they shared and spared memories made my heart swell.