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Once he’d informed her of his plans in that matter-of-fact way, and the more strenuously he’d tried to convince her it was the right thing to do, the more Issy had known it wasn’t. Her body was ripening more each day with their child, the weight of his ring on her finger made her feel content and secure, and she could see the enthusiasm and excitement on his face when he kissed her growing bump each morning and wished their baby buongiorno.
The time was right to give up one dream and concentrate on another.
The ease with which she’d handed over control of the theatre to Maxi and supervised the move to Florence had confirmed her decision. And then to top it all had been that heady rush of love when the Ferrari had pulled up outside her new home and Gio had insisted on carrying her over the threshold—even though she knew she weighed more than a small semi-detached house.
They had begun an ever more exciting phase of their lives as they’d spent those last two months together waiting for the baby’s arrival. And she hadn’t had a single regret about what she’d left behind.
Not that she had left it entirely behind. She’d kept in touch with Maxi and the gang, and she’d even found some voluntary work at a small children’s theatre in the Oltarno before she’d got too huge to move.
But she was more than happy to put her career on hold for now, and enjoy the fruits of her labour. Watching Gio blossom into a warm, loving and ludicrously proud papa had been the sweet, gooey icing on a very large cake. The last of the barriers had dropped away, the last of his insecurities had disappeared. He hadn’t just given his whole heart to her and their son, but also to his huge extended family. And being there to witness his transformation had been so intoxicating Issy could feel tears stinging her eyes even now as she observed him chatting easily with the old woman he’d never met before today—as comfortable and relaxed in her company as if he’d known her for years.
She sighed, contentment settling over her like a warm blanket. They both had a place to belong and a future so bright with exciting challenges it was hard not to want to rush to the next one.
As Gio approached, having bade goodbye to his latest friend, Sophia bounced up and kissed him on both cheeks.
‘So, how is the proud father holding up?’ she asked.
‘I’m exhausted.’ He sent his cousin a quelling look. ‘Next time you and your father and my wife concoct one of these “little get-togethers” my son and I are going to demand full disclosure of the numbers involved.’
Sophia gave an impish giggle. ‘Stop pretending you haven’t enjoyed showing off your bambino,’ she said, brushing her hand down the baby’s downy black curls. ‘I’ve never seen a man’s chest puff up so much.’
The bambino in question gave a tired little cry and began to wriggle in Gio’s arms. Feeling the instinctive dragging sensation in her breasts, Issy knew what the problem was. She reached for her son. ‘How’s he holding up to being adored?’
Gio lifted the baby off his shoulder, and kissed his son’s cheek before passing him over.
‘He’s been a superstar. He didn’t even grumble when Uncle Carlo lectured him about the intricacies of olive oil production and the importance of carrying on the family tradition.’
Both women laughed.
‘Don’t panic, Gio,’ Sophia said. ‘My father has been giving that speech to every baby born in the last forty years. So far only Carmine’s son Donato has fallen for it.’
Issy settled back into the chair and eased her breast out of the nursing bra. The baby latched on to the nipple like an Exocet missile and began sucking voraciously.
Sophia patted the baby’s head. ‘I should find my own bambino, before Aldo comes looking for me.’ She leaned down to kiss Issy’s cheek, then gave Gio a hard hug. ‘If I don’t catch you later, we’ll see you next month for Gabriella’s first Holy Communion, yes?’
Gio nodded. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ he said, and meant it as he watched his cousin leave. Who would have thought that one day he’d actually be looking forward to these insane gatherings?
He sat beside his wife and child, the feeling of pleasure and contentment and pride that had been building all day making his throat burn. Slinging his arm over the back of Issy’s chair, he played with the ends of her hair. Staring at his young son feasting on her lush breast in the gathering twilight he wondered, not for the first time in the last year, how the hell he had ever got so lucky.
‘Slow down, fella,’ he murmured as the baby’s cheeks flexed frantically. ‘Anyone would think you hadn’t been fed in months.’
‘Your uncle Carmine calls it the Italian appetite for life,’ Issy said, her throaty giggle sending heat arrowing down to Gio’s groin.
He shifted in his seat to ease the pressure, and brushed the curtain of hair behind her ear so he could see her face. ‘That sounds like the sort of daft thing Carmine would say. What he means is, our son’s greedy.’
Issy turned, her lips curving, and his heart thumped his chest wall. ‘Apparently it’s a Lorenzo family trait, though, so that’s okay,’ she said, laughing.
Unable to resist a moment longer, Gio cupped her cheek and touched his lips to hers.
He hadn’t meant to be too demanding, hadn’t meant to take the kiss any deeper, but
when she shuddered and her lips parted his tongue swept into her mouth of its own accord. His hand gripped her head as their mouths fused. He feasted on her, the hunger clawing at his gut like a wild thing.
The little wiggle against his chest and the grumpy little wail had him springing back, so ashamed of himself he felt physically sick.
‘Issy, I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell got into me.’
Seeing the look of horror on Gio’s face, Issy didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or scream with frustration. It had been six weeks now since their son’s birth. And that brief moment had been their first proper kiss!
