“My heart outside my body,” he says hoarsely. “How am I supposed to survive with two pieces of my soul wandering this world now? How, Dea?”
My fingers slip into his hair, combing through it gently.
“You’ll survive,” I whisper, “I told you maybe we should wait, but—”
His eyes lift to mine, and they’re shining now, stormy, stunned, and so full of love it takes my breath away.
“Wait?”he repeats, shaking his head, smile blooming so bright it reaches his eyes. “Never. No.”
“You’re giving me a child,” he breathes out, as if he still can’t believe it. “You. My light, my wife, my everything. You’re giving me a child.”
“You’re going to be unbearable,” I tease gently. “A tyrant. You’re never going to let me lift a finger again.”
“You’re goddamn right I’m not,” he growls, standing and lifting me into his arms. “You’re never walking again. Not while carrying my baby.”
“I love you,” I whisper, curling into him. “But you have to let me walk at leastsometimes.”
“I love you more,” he murmurs against my hair. “More than anything. And we can negotiate on the walking”
A laugh bursts out of me in his arms, feeling the glow from the inside out.
Chapter 7
Holiday Havoc
Iknew she was pregnant.
Okay, maybe I didn’tknow,but I had a feeling.
Something in the way she’d been glowing, in the nervous flutter of her smile, in the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.
Now I just need her doctor to confirm it.
But convincing my wife to let her doctor near her two days before Christmas Eve? That’s a hard sell. Vasilisa treats this holiday like a sacred ritual, her holiday paints are out, there’s garland lining the bathtub, and I’m pretty sure she’s making new ornaments for the tree by hand.
I’m waiting by the front door, trying to figure out how to casually bring up a “teeny tiny blood draw,” when Romeo pokes his head in.
“Boss, a package—”
“Santo?” Vasilisa’s voice drifts down from the stairs, warm and curious. My gaze lifts, and there she is, in one of my shirtsdraped over her frame, paint smudged on her hands and apron, a soft pink tint to her cheeks.
Ethereal.
Perfect.
She’s wiping her fingers with a rag as she comes down the stairs, brow furrowed in suspicion. “What are you doing, by the door?”
Romeo hesitates.
Vasilisa’s eyes land on him, her eyes lighting with interest. “Did you say package?”
Damn it.
Romeo opens the door fully and reveals a large, gift-wrapped box sitting on the stoop.
The very large rectangular box I overnighted from Le Petit MoonBeam the second Vasilisa blurted out‘I’m pregnant’on the bathroom counter last night.
My heart drops.
