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God knows, if she ever wanted to conceive a baby, he was the man she wanted to father it. They belonged together. If Fate would just stop smashing at them with a sledgehammer, they’d be fine. They could make it work. That scenario had never been even remotely imaginable to her before. But with Bruno, it was. It really was.
She’d do anything, to make that a reality. She would try so hard.
But that didn’t make the timing any less horrific, considering recent events. Or she herself any less irresponsible and stupid.
She snagged the duvet with her toe, yanked it up to cover them both. Entertained a vague notion of going downstairs to wash, but her legs were so limp. She’d probably tumble down that staircase and break her neck. Her body pulsed, glowed. The sore parts that she’d hurt in the last couple of days were tender, but the glow was stronger.
She leaned close to him, just staring. He was so beautiful, it just blew her mind. The sweeping design of dark eyebrows, those smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the noble shape of his nose. His chiseled cheekbones and jaw, that sexy beard shadow. Those sensual lips. Her eyes were famished for him, no matter how long she gazed.
He was fast asleep, but what the hell. She said it, right out loud. “I love you, too.”
He didn’t move. The words didn’t technically count, if they didn’t reach their target, so she’d say it to his face in the morning. She’d say it, and say it, and say it. She’d shout it and sing it. It made her feel stronger. Like, maybe she could beat this crazy thing, and come out the other side. Into something more real and beautiful and special than she’d ever dreamed of. It was possible. Anything felt possible.
She started to giggle, and then silently sob, huddled under the duvet, tears soaking into the sheets. Wow. Look at her, morphing into a weeping optimist. The power of sex hormones was miraculous.
And love, of course. And love.
CHAPTER21
The little kid was making him nervous.
Bruno fidgeted at the breakfast table, hiding behind his coffee mug. Six-year-old Rachel, Tam and Val’s little girl, eyed him intently. She was a pretty thing, thin and wiry, her pointy face dominated by huge, heavily lashed eyes, a rosebud mouth, and a tangle of gleaming dark ringlets. She wore pink-framed glasses, and slurped pink-tinted milk out of her cereal bowl. She was studying Bruno as if he were some fascinating swamp creature that she wanted to catalog and dissect.
The kitchen was a crowded, noisy place, packed with hungry people. Davy sat beside him, chowing down on steak, eggs and bagels. Getting Davy to talk was like prying rusted nails out of a board, which made him the perfect breakfast companion for Bruno that morning. Zia Rosa was in hog heaven, gleefully presiding over sizzling frying pans as she tossed out short orders right and left.
Bruno sat sullenly in the midst of that loud, banging, clinking, laughing swirl of activity. All he could think about was what a cowardly thing it was, to sneak out of bed while Lily was still asleep, but he didn’t know if he’d dreamed what he’d heard her say the night before.
I love you, too.
It might have been real. It really might, and in that case, he could just go ahead and let his head explode. But if it were not, he’d have to open a wormhole and tunnel into a parallel universe in which he had never been born. He was also jazzed by the strange fact that he hadn’t had one of his fight dreams last night. First time in months.
“…me that cereal?”
He wrenched his attention to Rachel, who was yelling in a way that suggested that it was not the first time she’d spoken. “Huh?”
“The cereal,” Rachel said impatiently. “Pass me the cereal box!”
Bruno looked where she was pointing, on the shelf. Looked back, at the open cereal box in front of Rachel’s bowl, some of which was still floating in the pink milk. It was the same exact type of cereal.
He leaned across the table, hefted the box, rattling its contents. It was almost completely full. “Use the open box. There’s plenty in there.”
The little girl gave him a calculating look, and glanced furtively to the right and left. “I want the prize,” she confided. She pointed to the undersea scene pictured on the box, which sported cartoon fish, a treasure chest dripping with jewels, festooned with ropes of pearls. “I already have the ring, and two of the bracelets. But I don’t have the necklace yet. Maybe there’s one in that box.” She paused, made an impatient, but still furtive gesture. “Well? Get it!”
Bruno glanced around the kitchen for her parents. Not there. He was probably committing a huge faux pas, but hell. One look at the kid, and a guy knew he didn’t want to get on her bad side.
He snagged the cereal box and passed it to Rachel, who tore into it with feral eagerness. The inner bag got torn, cereal flew right and left, scattering over the table and floor as she dug for her prize. Yikes.
He was relieved when she unearthed the plastic bag, with a shriek of delight. It was heart-shaped locket, painted plastic, studded with big fake jewels. Then the energy in the room changed. Sound level dropped. Everyone took a simultaneous breath in their conversation. The fine hairs prickled up on the back of Bruno’s neck. Heat raced under his skin as he turned to look. God. He wasblushing,for God’s sake.
Lily was framed in the door, offering shy smiles and nods. She glanced at him. He couldn’t breathe. Her hair was damp, spiraling in lush corkscrewing waves. Her lips were soft, luscious. She had color.
A shriek of chair legs scraping, and Davy McCloud wiped his mouth, shoved a last chunk of bagel into his mouth, and piled up his plate, glass, cup and silverware. He vacated his place, gesturing with his chin for Lily to take his chair and sit next to Bruno.
She smiled her thanks and slid into the chair, looking at everything except him. Zia Rosa headed over with a cup of coffee, and set it before her, having already administered sugar and cream for Lily according to her own personal and inflexible criteria.
“You eat a big breakfast, honey,” she announced. “Watcha want, omelette, pancakes, French toast? Over easy, scrambled, ham, bacon?”
Lily looked bewildered. “Ah, whatever’s around is fine. A piece of toast, if there is some. I can do it myself. Please don’t worry about it.”
