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I reluctantly let him go, but he keeps an arm around my shoulders as we walk back to the house.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” I say, looping my arms around his waist. “I can’t even tell you how long it felt since you were gone.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I know, baby.”
“And…I had a bit of a panic attack,” I say, not wanting to keep things from him. He stops and looks down at me with a frown. “I got through it. I did my breathing techniques and got myself out of it before it took hold.”
“I’m so proud of you, but I don’t want you worrying yourself into a state like that, Mia,” he says in all seriousness. “That’s something we’ve got to work on.”
I nod as we begin walking again. “I know.” I like the way he sayswe.“I just didn’t want to keep it from you.”
“I like that. You never have to keep anything from me.”
“Even the fact that I’ve been throwing up all day.”
He gives me a look. “You have?”
“I don’t know what it is. I think it's just a bad case of Chinese food.”
He smiles down at me. “You need to rest. The stress will do that to you. I know when I’m worried, all my stress goes straight to my stomach.”
I don’t divulge what I almost fear; that I could actually be pregnant, since it is early days yet. I genuinely don’t know what he would say or do if I were pregnant. I always thought when I did have kids, that it would be something we planned. I’d be married and settled in my job, setting up a house and making it a home.
I don’t see how it’s possible when being on birth control, but I know these things aren’t a hundred percent accurate. It’s what has me on edge. Dante and I have done it a lot.
More than a lot. And if I were to be pregnant, I would be delighted. I’d love nothing more than to be the mother of his children. I just don’t honestly know how he would react. The last thing I’d want is for him to be mad.
When we get inside, Dante’s ma runs up to him and pulls him to her as I let him go momentarily. She starts kissing his face, muttering to him over and over in Italian as he tries to fend her off.
“Ma!”
“My baby boy,” she mumbles, standing back to assess him. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, Dante.”
He nods. “Okay, Ma.”
She turns her gaze on me. “Mia.” She has tears in her eyes. She starts rambling in Italian, pulling me into a hug as she kisses my hair, cups my face, and says something about me being a good girl.
“Ma!” Dante says again. “Leave her alone.”
“It’s okay,” I laugh. “I like having Ma fuss over me.”
She’s exactly how I would picture any good Italian mother. She loves her family, and the fact Dante had his arm around me, and mine around his when we walked in, kinda gives away the fact that we’re together.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“I’ll fix you something to eat,” she says, patting me on the arm and giving Dante one last smile as she takes off again back towards the kitchen. “Your favorite, Dante.”
Dante rolls his eyes behind her back as I giggle. “Gotta love, Ma.”
“Oh yeah, she knows it too.”
I turn to face him. “How are you feeling? Do you want to rest?”
He shakes his head. “No, but we can say that’s what we’re doing.”
My eyes go round. “Dante,” I whisper.
He brings me into another hug, his mouth at my ear. “I want you. Can’t you feel how hard I am?”
