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“Doesn’t matter. Still the best, dolcezza.”
“Fine, I’ll call her school and find out what arrangements can be made. But this isn’t an indefinite solution. We will have to return to Italy eventually.”
“Sure,” T agrees with Angelica. “Dolcezza, I have a few calls to make. I’ll be in the office. Do you need anything?”
“I’m good. I think I’m going to go and lie back down for a while.” I’m still tired, and after eating all that food, I just want to sleep it off.
“What’s wrong?” He looks me over from head to toe, like he’s going to be able to see something no one else does.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired. I promise I’m fine.”
“Okay. Call if you need anything.” He kisses me gently, lingering a moment longer as he silently observes me, before exiting the room while summoning Neo and his Uncle Gabe to follow.
* * *
I wake up and grab my phone off the bedside table. It’s eleven a.m. I’ve been asleep for three hours. I thought I’d just come and lie down for a few minutes. I mentally check in with my body. I don’t feel nauseous, so that’s a plus. When I woke up earlier today, I had to run into the bathroom. I really hope that’s not going to happen every day. I absolutely hate being sick. I don’t really think anyone likes it, but I can’t stand it.
I drag myself out of bed and jump in the shower, deciding to ensure I’m a little more presentable, even if I’m not going anywhere. I find another tight bodycon dress in the closet; this one is emerald green. I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to fit into these little outfits. I’m going to make the most of wearing them while I still can.
Walking downstairs, I head to the kitchen. Surely there’s a little coffee hidden somewhere in this house, a stash Theo hasn’t gotten to yet. I read up about drinking coffee while pregnant. I don’t have to cut it out altogether. My husband is being ridiculous.
“Mrs. Valentino, can I get you anything?” A young girl wearing a maid’s uniform asks.
“Uh, I’m just looking for coffee?” I question.
“Oh, we don’t have any. Mr. Valentino had us throw it all out,” she says.
“Well, Mr. Valentino is an ass,” I grumble, opening the fridge. I’m going to have to settle for juice.
I turn back around to the girl and her wide eyes. “Oh, he’s a very good boss, ma’am. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he saved me. Gave me a job.” She shrugs and goes back to wiping down the counter.
“What did he save you from?”
“I was going through a rough spot. I was homeless. I saw… well, Mr. Valentino found me and brought me here—offered me a job, a room. He’s a good man.”
I smile. “He is a good man. He’d be better if he didn’t throw out all the bloody coffee.” I take my glass of juice with me in search of the man himself. He’s not exactly hard to find. I follow the yelling and cursing coming from down the hall, which leads me straight to his office. I have no idea what they’re yelling about because, of course, they’re yelling in rapid-fast Italian. I do pick up the many expletives that are spilling out though.
There’re no beefy guards standing at the door today—and it’s wide open. All three men pause midargument and stare at me the moment I step over the threshold. “Don’t stop on my account. It’s not like I can understand what you’re all shouting about anyway.” I smirk, leaning against the wall.
“Dolcezza, how are you feeling?” T walks up and kisses my forehead. I sink into him. I don’t know what it is about such a simple gesture, but that one light touch makes me feel cherished.
“I’m fine. I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” I say as I watch my husband drop to his knees in front of me. “Ah, T, not really the time or place,” I hiss at him.
He looks up at me and smirks before kissing my midsection. “Ciao, mia bella piccola. Non vedo l'ora di incontrarti.”
He rises back to his full height, and I’m left speechless. He’s talking to my stomach. I wonder if the baby can hear us yet. “What did you say?”
“I said: Hello, my beautiful baby. I can’t fucking wait to meet you.” His smile reaches his eyes. He really is over the moon about this baby. I’m not saying I’m not happy. I’m still shocked. I’m still questioning if it’s too soon, and if I’m capable of being a mother. But T’s enthusiasm is so bloody cute. I can’t wait to see him holding our child. I picture the man I love with a baby against his bare chest. Yes, that is a sight I really want to see.
“You know, if the baby can hear you, you should probably stop swearing. I won’t have my child’s first word being a curse word.”
“Our,” T says. I can’t help but give him a blank stare. I swear he confuses the shit out of me sometimes. “It’s not your child, Holly. It’s our child.”
“Oh my God! You know, you can be infuriating sometimes. Okay, I will not haveourchild’s first word be a curse word. That goes for you too.” I point to Neo.
