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“‘Little Miss, of course,’” he said in a perfect imitation of Elsie.
I giggled into his chest, enjoying the way his chest rumbled along with me. God, I loved his laugh. “Right. Well, um…”
Beneath me, his big body tensed.
I rolled to the side so I could look at him from my pillow. “What’s wrong?”
Xavier turned to face me as well, not quite able to hide the fear etched over his brow. “I was about to say the same thing. You, er, don’t want to hide it, do you?”
The same fear lodged itself in my stomach. “Do you?”
To my relief, he shook his head. “Absolutely fucking not. Fuck me, Ces, I want to shout it to the world.” My favorite smile—the curiously shy one that only just tipped up the corners of his mouth—appeared. “She’s mine,” he said softly. “Finally mine.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “I don’t want to hide it either.”
The smile broadened into a grin that made my heart thump in response.
“But,” I continued, “she’s going to have a lot of questions. Ones we need to be able to answer.”
“Right.” Xavier pushed himself up to seated so that only his lap was covered by my blankets, leaving the rest of him—including his muscled chest, stepladder abs, and his wicked tattoo—gleaming for my eyes to devour.
It was very distracting.
“Er,” I started, then managed to sit up myself, though I pulled the sheets to cover my chest, much to Xavier’s obvious disappointment. “Stop looking at me like that. I can barely focus on you as it is. Given your behavior last night, I think I need to be covered up to have a proper conversation with you.”
“Won’t do a thing. I already know what’s under there.” His grin turned substantially sharkish, which told me a robe or something wouldn’t hurt. “Well, let’s figure it out. What do you think she’s going to want to know?”
“Well, for one, she’s going to want to know where we’ll live,” I said.
“She’ll want to know? Or you want to know?”
I shrugged. “Both, maybe. But it’s a fair question. Xavi, where will we live? I can’t imagine you actually want to spend your life in this tiny townhouse.”
He tried to look as if that wasn’t a horrible idea but failed miserably. I could understand why. It wasn’t the smallest of places by any standard in New York, but it was a shack compared to what Xavier’s immense wealth could buy us.
Myimmense wealth.
“Oh God,” I muttered. “I’m going to have to get a lawyer, aren’t I?”
Xavier scowled. “Why would you need a lawyer?”
I shrugged. “Well, obviously I’ll need to sign an air-tight prenup. You’d be an idiot to get married without one.”
The scowl only deepened as he looked me over. “Francesca, my love, what in the fuck are you talking about?”
I huffed. “Xavi, come on, let’s not be irrational.”
“I’m not being irrational. I trust you.”
“You don’t know what might happen. Do you really, honestly believe without a shadow of a doubt that you and I will last forever? That something horrible might not split us up one day? I don’t mean to be jaded, but it’s not totally out of the realm of possibility.”
He didn’t answer at first. And I found I wasn’t afraid of what he might say. Because as much of a romantic as I was, I knew the truth. That we both came from homes built on fragments of family, not whole ones.
“No,” he said. “I know the world is fucked. And I know this isn’t a fairy tale, and you’re not a princess, and I’m most definitely no fucking prince. But Ces?”
“Hmm?”
“I trust you.”
