“She’s ready for dessert,” I said.
Sighing, she nodded to a plate of small pieces of fruit on the counter, whipped cream on the side to add a bit of sweetness to it. Mia ate quietly, concentrating on her favorite part of dinner. Dessert. While she was occupied, I came to stand behind Scarlett.
Scarlett stiffened, but she didn’t try to pull away from me when I rested my hands on the insides of her elbows, sliding them down to hands full of dough.
“The part of me that belongs to you is much lower,” she whispered.
“Here,” I whispered in her ear, kissing her neck, while my hands roved lower, to her hips, and then over her stomach.
The soft fabric of the dress bunched in my hands, and I squeezed, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the layers. In nine months, she would be ready to have our next child. She had never showed this early with Mia, and though the small bulge was barely noticeable, I had noticed when she had changed into a skintight swimsuit.
She had taken a test before dinner, and the wordpositivehad appeared on the screen. Neither one of us needed it for confirmation, but seeing it made me swell with pride.
“Yes.” She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to rest her head against my chest. I could feel opposite emotions warring, hunger versus refusal.
“No,” I said, pulling her even closer to me, making her gasp. My breath came out warm against her skin, but my tone was cold. I was sick of the fucking games. “Not only this.” My hands continued to move, to feel the heart of my heart, the soul of my soul, my flesh and blood, until every part of her had been touched. “All of you belongsto me.”
I wrapped her in a total embrace, strong enough that she couldn’t move, so close that she could melt into my blood from my need of her alone. Inhaling her hair, the subtle rose scent that clung to her, our pillows and bedsheets, our daughter, even me, a faint reminder she was never far, I breathed her in like oxygen.
The sky finally succumbed to complete darkness, except for the burning lights illuminating the village and thousands of stars. We were both reflected in the glass with the scene, but all I could see was one. Us.
“Dimmi,” I breathed out.Tell me.
“Why?” she asked in Italian, her voice quiet. “Why do I need to tell you anything? My opinion doesn’t count.”
“I’ll die if I don’t hear the words,” I answered in Italian. “That’s how much they mean to me.”
A desperate sound came from her lips. She squeezed my forearms, her nails almost piercing my skin.“Sono tutto tuo.” I’m all yours.
“Tell me for how long.”
“For the rest of my life and beyond.”
“Mo?”
At the whispered word, Scarlett and I turned together.
Mia’s bowl of fruit was empty. She had whipped cream on her nose, and her eyes were drooping, her head bobbing.
“Mo?” she said again, her voice even softer. She was asking for more even though she was falling asleep on herself.
Scarlett and I started laughing, attempting to keep quiet, but Mia had heard it. Her eyes opened like a small drunk’s, glazed over with sleepiness and the peace of being full. She smiled, showing all her teeth, and then snorted. Her mamma had just done the same thing.
“Let me get my camera,” Scarlett whispered, running into the other room, as quiet as silence itself.
Mia dozed, her head tilting back, her sticky fingers on her new shirt.Big Sister.
Scarlett knew, probably since the night it happened, and she’d planned ahead.
“Scarlett,” I said.
She studied her camera, adjusting the settings or dials.
“Yes?”
“Thank you, my wife,” I said in Italian.
Pausing her fiddling, she looked me straight in the eye.
