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Richard’s mouth drops open. “You’ve never met them then?”
“It all happened rather fast,” I explain. “They’ll meet her soon enough and fall for her as hard as I have.”
“Malta is such a great place to spend your first year together,” Sofia says, and waves her hand toward the sea. “I grew up here of course, but Andrew is from Italy, and we honeymooned right here on this island. It’s where we’re happiest.” She points to a strip of beach in the distance. “We actually exchanged vows right there, all our family and friends in attendance.”
“Perfect place,” Peyton says, a longing in her eyes that she can’t hide from me. She doesn’t want a family my ass, and as far as big weddings, there was a point in this girl’s life where she wanted to be Cinderella. I’m sure of it.
“Where did you get married?” Sofia asks.
Peyton coils her hair around one finger. “Oh, we just had a civil ceremony in Manhattan.”
Sofia’s eyes go wide. “Oh, my, I can’t believe Roman’s family let him get away with that.”
I grin; obviously her husband told her who I was and the two know my history and that of my overbearing family.
“This is such a great island to raise a family,” Paula says, and puts her hand over her stomach, giving her husband a small grin like they might
have a secret.
Sofia beams. “Great indeed. My kids had a wonderful childhood here with the beach so close.”
Paula gazes at her husband. “We would love to raise our family here, too,” she says. “Of course, we’re very traditional, and I’ll be staying home to raise them, just like my mother did. That’s how children end up with good old-fashioned values.” She picks up her glass and eyes Peyton over the rim. “Did your mom stay home, Peyton?”
Holy shit. Is this woman for real?
“Actually, I lost my parents when I was young,” Peyton says.
“Oh, so sorry to hear that, dear,” Sofia says, and I shift uncomfortably. Something tells me Paula has done her homework on the competition and is using Peyton’s childhood to her advantage. Every protective instinct I possess kicks into high gear.
“Do you plan to have children, Peyton?” Paula asks.
“Of course, someday,” she says, a small waver in her voice that I don’t miss.
I take her hand and bring it to my mouth and give it a kiss. “We plan to have plenty of children,” I say.
“Will you continue to work?” Paula waves her hand. “I mean, if maternity leave is in your future, what would happen to the students?”
“I’m sure I can figure out a way to help pick up the slack,” I blurt out without thinking.
Paula laughs. “You mean you’ll help out in the classroom? What qualifications do you have?”
“I might not have a degree in education, but I speak numerous languages.” What am I saying? I know nothing about teaching children, but if it means helping Peyton, I’d probably stand on my head and spit nickels for their entertainment.
“How unorthodox,” Paula says.
“Andrew,” I say, shifting the direction of the conversation. “Do the children have computer access?”
He steeples his fingers and lets his index fingers bounce off his lips. “We have a small lab, not enough for every student of course. They all must take turns.”
“I’d be happy to volunteer my time and teach basic coding skills.”
Andrew’s eyes widen. “We could never ask that much of you.”
“You’re not asking. I’m volunteering, and I’d love to help.”
A wide smile splits Andrew’s lips as Peyton looks at me, her mouth agape. “That’s a generous offer, Roman, and I’d love to discuss this in depth with you. Right now, I must get the barbecue going.”
“I’ll get the salads from the kitchen,” Sofia says, and takes a look at our glasses. “And it looks like we could all use a refill on our drinks.”
