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I gasp. My hand flies up to my rose pendant—the same one he gifted me years ago when we discovered the truth about the one my father tricked me into wearing—and I admire the wonderful sight in front of me.
“So this is what you’ve been up to,” I say, glancing at him. “How long did it take you?”
“Well… I haven’t let you in here for weeks, have I? I wanted to finish as much as possible.”
“And downstairs. That’s what you were working on.”
“Some shelves. For when you read to him. Right here.”
Salvatore moves further into the nursery and gestures to the space next to the wooden rocking chair by the window. There’s an excited aura about him, like he’s proud to show off each piece of furniture he’s crafted himself.
“What do you think? Should the bookshelf go here?” he asks.
I smile softly. My hand instinctively goes to the protruding bump I’m sporting. “It would look great there. I can’t wait to fill it with books.”
“Stitches already got him one,” he says, pointing out the baby blue gift bag on the rocking chair. “Quantum Physics for Babies. Its tongue in cheek.”
I raise a brow and then laugh. “Of course he would.”
My attention shifts to the beautifully crafted crib in the center of the room. Salvatore’s already decorated it with a mobile of zoo animals like zebras and elephants. The animal theme continues with the gentle, powdery blue wallpaper covering the walls.
“You… are… excited,” is the only thing I can think of saying. I let out another light laugh. “Jon, I’m not due for another two months.”
“It’s never too soon. Which reminds me, you need to take off those clothes.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been dressed up all day running everywhere. Even when I told you not to. Time to unwind. So, take them off.”
He’s serious. He grabs me by the hand and leads me straight to our bedroom, which is directly across the hall. I barely register what’s happening before Salvatore’s stripping me of my maternity shift dress that’s professional enough to wear in the office. My low-heel pumps go next and then my panty hoses. He kneels before me and carefully slips my feet out of them. Rising back up, he unhooks my bra and sets my sore breasts free.
He fills his hands with them, giving me a light massage as he kisses the side of my neck.
“I’m running you a bath,” he says in his sexy, authoritative tone. He’s not asking, he’s telling. He leads me into the bathroom where he proceeds to do just that—he fills the tub with a soothing lavender bath bomb and epsom salt.
I stand and watch, my hand on my belly, naked except for my panties.
He never ceases to make me feel loved. Never forgets to put me first or care for me. As my pregnancy winds down, and we get close to welcoming the life we created into the world, I know he’ll be an incredible father.
Salvatore loves with everything he has. Perhaps because he was never loved himself.
He turns to me when the water is warm enough and helps ease me into the tub. I slide into the warm, soapy water with a soft sigh and every muscle in my body relaxing at once. He sits on the edge of the tub and finds excuses to touch and caress me.
Starting with a gentle wash of my shoulders and back.
“That feels… oh. Jon, that feels so good,” I whisper, shuddering.
“Wait ’til you see what I have planned next.”
My eyes have closed, a serene smile curved on my lips. I sink further into the warm water and hum in answer. I could fall asleep like this.
“A vintage movie marathon,” he tells me. “And your favorite. Pineapple pizza.”
Laughter bursts free as my eyes pop open and I splash water at him. “You’ll never let me live that down! It takes really good. You need to try it.”
“Nope. Never. It would be a betrayal to my ancestors. Italians never intended forpineappleto go on pizza, Phi.”
“You’re not even full Italian!”
