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“Hmmm. Maybe we should actually leave the suite.”
I laugh. “Have it your way. You have your physical therapy appointment later.”
“How can I forget? You never let me.”
It’s true. Though we’ve been on vacation for the majority of Delphine’s recovery, I have ensured a physical therapist and medical team are available at all times. Delphine has been able to receive regular treatment at the resort, as well as attend PT several times a week. I’m told she’s healing nicely, but that doesn’t mean I’ve worried any less. I’ve made a habit of helping her do things again. Her shoulder needs the best chance at healing.
As we prep for a morning shower, she rolls her eyes at me when I hold out my hand to help her step into the large garden tub.
“Don’t look at me like that. The last thing we need is for you to slip and fall, Phi.”
“My legs still work.”
“I seem to remember a time where I was in a bad car accident, and you insisted on helping me in the shower. I had a sprained shoulder.”
“But you were in pain!” she argues.
“Renzo was right about one thing. You do have a mouth on you.”
“And you do love it.”
Guilty as charged. I squirt body wash onto her loofah and then help lather her up. It’s a routine we’ve developed whenever we do shower together—she goes first and then it’s me. In our loft, it’s some of the most peaceful moments we share, intimate conversations included, particularly on mornings we know will turn into hectic days.
“What will we do when we get back?” Delphine asks out of nowhere. There’s a pensiveness about her tone. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You mean the loft?”
She nods, then turns her back to me so that she’s directly facing the shower stream.
I glide my palm down her spine and press a kiss to the tip of her good shoulder. “Maybe it’s time we have a new home for ourselves. We’re married now. The loft was a place I moved into when I first returned to Northam… but I never meant for it to be our home together. We’ll be starting a family someday—could be soon—we should have a proper home to do so in.”
“You’re being serious?” she peeks at me from over her shoulder.
I wrap my arms around her from behind. “Very serious. What if you turn up pregnant tomorrow, Phi? We’re not raising our son or daughter in a fucking organized crime compound. I want you and our child to be somewhere far away from my operation. A place with a huge yard for our kids to play.”
“We can sit out on a patio and watch them.”
I hum my approval. “It’ll be gated. Around-the-clock security.”
“In Northam? Where are we going to find a house like that?”
“How about we go back to the beginning?”
“You don’t mean what I think you do?”
By the time we finish up in the shower, we’re still discussing the matter. Our breakfast has been delivered via room service, which we enjoy on the sofa and coffee table. Delphine curls her legs under her and goes for the fruit parfait first.
“Westoria,” she says thoughtfully. “But you said you’d never want to live there. It’s the suburb from hell.”
I shrug, munching on bacon strips myself. “Things change. Wouldn’t you say I have?”
“You said you wouldn’t live past thirty. You said life was pointless. You told me you didn’t love anybody.”
“All things that I’ve changed my mind on. As we can see, I’ve lived several years past thirty. I’d say life’s what you make of it. And there’s somebody I do love.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Salvatore, you’re going to be a suburban dad.”
“I’ve accepted it. Our kids’ll go where we went.”
