Excerpt from The Nine Lives of Rose Napolitano by Donna Freitas, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

MARCH 2, 2008

Rose, Life 3

She is beautiful.

I am awed by her perfection. The heady scent of her skin. "Addie," I sigh. "Adelaide," I try again, a faint whisper in the sterile air. "Adelaide Luz."

I raise her little head to my nose and inhale, long and needy, ignoring the sharp pain in my abdomen. I smile as I admire the soft fuzz of her hair.

How I resisted having this little being in my arms! Before the pregnancy and the birth, I would rage about the pressure to have a child— to Luke, to Mom, to Jill, to whoever would listen. The stranger next to me on the subway, the unsuspecting man on the sidewalk. I was just. So. Angry.

But now?

The snow falls in wet clumps against the windowpanes of the hospital room, everything around me shades of gray in dim light. I inch to the left, shift into a better position. The temperature drops and the snow turns papery, thick and dry like paste. She sleeps.

My eyes are hers.

"How could I not have wanted you?" I whisper into her tiny, curling ear, a pearly shell. "How could there be a life where you and I never met? If there is such a life, I wouldn't want to live it."

Her eyelids twitch, pale, veined, transparent, her nose and mouth and forehead scrunching.

"Did you hear what I said, sweet girl? You should only listen to the second part, about how your mother wouldn't want a life without you. That's all you need to know."

One

AUGUST 15, 2006

Rose, Life 1

Luke is standing on my side of the bed. He never goes to my side of the bed. In his hand is a bottle of prenatal vitamins. He holds it up. He shakes it, a plastic rattle.

The sound is heavy and dull because it is full. This is the problem.

"You promised," he says, even and slow. Uh‑oh. I am in trouble.

"Sometimes I forget to take them," I admit.

He shakes the bottle again, a maraca in a minor key. "Sometimes?" The light through the curtains forms a halo around Luke's upper body, the hand held high with the offending object outlined by the sun and glowing.

I am in the doorway of our room, on my way to pull clothes from the drawers and the closet. Mundane things. Underwear. Socks. A top and a pair of jeans. Like any other morning. I would have folded the clothing across one arm and carried it to the bathroom so I could shower and change. Instead I stop, cross my arms over my chest, the heart inside it mangled with hurt and anger. "Did you count them, Luke?" My question is a cold snap in the humid August air.

"So what if I did, Rose? What if I did count them? Can you blame me?"

I turn my back on him, go to open the long drawer that contains underwear, bras, slips, camisoles, riffle through my things, disrupting the order of my clothing, everything growing more and more out of control. My heart starts pounding.

"You promised me," Luke says.

I grab a pair of my granniest underwear. I want to scream. "Like promises mean anything in this marriage."

"That's not fair." "It's perfectly fair." "Rose—"

"So I didn't take the pills! I don't want a baby. I never wanted a baby and I don't want one now and I won't want one ever and you knew that before we got engaged! I told you a thousand times! I've told you a million times since!"

"You said you'd take the vitamins."

"I said it to stop you from tormenting me." Tears sting my eyes even as the blood inside me pulses with fury. "I said it so we could have a little peace in this apartment."

"So you lied."

I turn. The underwear falls from my hand as I march my way to the other side of the bed to confront my husband. "You swore you didn't want a baby."

"I changed my mind."

"Right. Sure. No big deal." I am tumbling down a hill, we are tumbling, and I don't know how to stop us from crashing. "You 'changed your mind,' but I'm the liar."

Excerpted from The Nine Lives of Rose Napolitano by Donna Freitas. Copyright © 2021 by Donna Freitas. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.