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He lifts the mask cautiously, a teasing grin on his absurdly handsome face. “This is what that noise was about?”
“What do you think?” I swat him with the mask as I glide into our new bedroom.
I combined Lachlan’s and Eoghan’s bedrooms, which were joined by a bathroom, to make a large suite for Kieran and me. It’s not much bigger than the bedroom he took over when his parents moved. This one isours,though.
He steps inside and glances around at the clean, mid-century modern furniture, the color of chestnuts. There was no way to mix and match the heavy ornate Italian style and the very minimal Irish one. So, I created a neutral design that suited us both. I went crazy on the décor. My favorite elements are the gray-and-gold shimmery wallcovering above the chair rail and the canopy bed with an authentic lace cover from Ireland, thanks to Kieran’s mother, who I now call Ma.
Kieran grips the matte-finished posts. “I can tie you up nicely with these.”
“Me, too.” I nudge him. “Do you like it? I can start moving our things in this weekend. You don’t have to rush.”
“Aye, bella. I love it.” He glances around. “It’s chic-badass.”
Laughing, I push my way into his arms, his warm chest always comforting me. Touching was difficult for a while, and I’m still a little traumatized. It was hard for us to get close again once we left the hospital.
But he was wonderfully patient.
For exactly six weeks. Then he said I needed to be chased down to get past the trauma and replace what I’d been through with memories of him.Onlyhim. No one would ever hurt me again.
It worked. Even the ropes he used got me past what happened.
Peaches makes circles at our feet, looking for attention.
Kieran grows hard against me, reminding me what I do to him. Before he throws me down on our new bed, I grab his hand because I have another surprise.
Two, really.
“Hang on, husband. There’s another reason all that work took longer.” I ease him back into the hallway and into what was Kieran’s old bedroom.
He stiffens. “What’s this?”
“I think you’ll figure it out.” I open the door, and that same fresh-paint smell thrills me.
He steps slowly into his transformed old bedroom that now showcases a dark-wood crib and cornflower blue bedding with a stars and moon mobile overhead. “Are you pregnant?” he asks, tearing his eyes away from the crib to land right on me.
From my pocket, I show him the sonogram photos. “I wanted to be sure.” My voice chokes up. “I already lost—”
He shushes me with his lips. “It just wasn’t meant to be.” Tears cloud his eyes.
“Look closer in the crib.” I reach in and show him the double set of blankets and pillows. There’re no names inscribed yet because I want him to choose. No doubt, he’ll give his twin sons those authentic Irish names. Just as long as I can spell and pronounce them without looking like a git—a slang word I’ve taken a shine to.
“That’s a lot of stuff in the crib for one—” He stops. “Wait.”
“According to the doctor, this right here wasn’t a shadow. There’re two babies inside me.” And these sons in my belly were conceived out of love and not misplaced lust.
Kieran takes the photos in one hand and pulls me in by the waist with another. He won’t cry, and I don’t expect him to. But he nuzzles my neck and it’s wet. His eyes are red, and he’s sniffing.
“Are you happy?” I ask, hugging him.
“Aye, bella. So happy.” His heart hammers against my cheek, then he lowers his head. “Are you? You said you wanted to wait.”
“I know.” But I never took birth control again. Even though the doctor, who examined me in the hospital to make sure the miscarriage didn’t damage anything, prescribed me a fresh batch.
Every time I looked at that pink case, I felt sick. Those lies almost cost me everything. There’s one I kept to myself,whereI got those pills he found. Samantha worried enough about telling Uncle Dante where I went. I forgave her. The man manipulated my father, someone who could have him killed with the snap of his fingers. Samantha had no choice.
I miss her, being in Italy, but we text every day. When she comes home, she’ll find outshe’snow the Cosa Nostra princess, since I put her father’s name to the council. And by a slim margin, they crowned Salvatore Gallo as their new don.
“I can still build the foundation from here. I’ll still graduate.” I kiss my financier. He agreed to fund the initial stage of theMaria Caruso-Parisi Women’s Foundation.
