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“Shhh. Nobody needs to know that. I’m in the fucking mafia.”
We both laugh this time. I reach for him, slipping my hand into his.
“Your secret’s safe with me. So long as you tell nobody about my thing for pineapple pizza.”
“So long as our baby boy has better taste in pizza than his mother.”
We spend the rest of bath time like this, a lighthearted mood that involves trading playful banter. For us, it might as well be foreplay—it leads straight into Salvatore revealing another surprise he had lined up. Intense, passionate lovemaking that reminds me how deeply he desires me no matter how very pregnant I am.
By the time the sun’s setting, we’re cuddled up on the sofa withMahoganyplaying and the cats snuggled on the cushion next to us. At our feet, Olive has finally ran out of energy and has collapsed on Salvatore’s feet for a puppy nap.
I scoot closer and rest my head on his chest. His arm curls around me and his hand comes to my swollen belly, where he rubs our baby in slow, gentle patterns.
I smile. This is what we’ve fought long and hard for. This is what we were willing to die for. But our love proved to be stronger.
Our family.
