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“What are we going to call him?” I ask, looking down at his little face, at the way he has his father’s nose and chin.
“I thought Aldo was a strong name,” he says, and I smile down at our son.
“Aldo,” I say, liking the sound of it. “I think that’s perfect, Nico.”
“I think you’re perfect,” Nico says, and I can’t believe this is my life. I can’t believe that I have my son and that Nico Andretti is my husband.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
After we’re home, our baby finds his voice and screams the night away, but just when I think I’m getting to my breaking point, Nico’s there.
“I’ll take him for a while,” he says, pulling our son out of my arms.
I run a hand through my mussed hair, exhausted. “He was crying all night,” I say.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asks, frowning.
“You looked so peaceful,” I tell him. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Nico snorts. “Disturb me next time,principessa.I’m his father. I can do a lot of the work.”
I look at him, disbelieving. I can’t believe he’s so involved when at first, I didn’t even know if he’d stick around even if he said he would.
“I’m exhausted,” I admit. “And there’s baby vomit in my hair and I’m pretty sure his diaper is full of the most heinous thing you’ve ever smelled.”
Nico barks out a surprised laugh. “I’m interested in where this is going.”
“But I’m sohappy, Nico,” I said, tears running down my face. “I’ve never been so happy in all my life. I didn’t know I could find happiness like this.”
“Me, either,” Nico says, kissing the tip of my nose. “This is everything, and I never knew I wanted any of it.”
Baby Aldo has finally stopped crying and now he’s just looking around as if he hasn’t kept me up all night and driven me crazy.
“And we can do this,” I say, determined.
Nico grins at me. “We can do this, even if I have to bounce this kid around twenty-four hours a day.”
It’s not easy because Aldo has colic and I have to recover from surgery.
Sometimes I’m bitchy because Aldo’s been up for hours and I haven’t had anything to eat or any sleep.
On those days, Nico takes over, taking the baby for several hours and sending me to the spa with Francesca, who is the world’s best aunt.
I look in the mirror in the mornings and I can’t believe this is my life. I can’t believe I’m so happy.
Nico tells me, every day, that he feels the same way. He never minds reassuring me, never minds telling me over and over that he loves me. Sometimes, when we’re making love, he’ll trail his fingers over the scar on my cheekbone or my c-section scar, and he’ll tell me that everything we’ve been through has been so worth it.
“Soworth it,principessa,” he says softly. “Everything has been so worth it, and I love you so fucking much.”
I grin, looking back at him and then looking over at our son in the bassinet next to our bed. He’s only quiet when Nico and I are together, when we’re in the same room, like he knows that we’re all three meant to be together.
“Everything was worth it, but did it have to besohard?” I ask, and Nico laughs, loud and open.
Most days, I can’t believe it when I wake up next to Nico, our baby crying over the baby monitor or from the bassinet. I can’t believe it, but Nico convinces me, every single day.
I’m Mrs. Andretti, and we have a beautiful baby boy, and Nico Andretti loves me with every cell of his body.
What else could I ever need?
