And it was done.
Chapter 52
Stella
My lids felt heavy, but my eyes were starving to see. To see my baby. To see my husband looking at me and our baby. But the first thing I noticed when I fully opened my eyes, after the plain ceiling, was that I felt empty inside.
Too empty.
“My baby,” I croaked, tears slipping down my cheeks.
“Right here, baby.” The sound of my husband’s voice made me explode with tears.
“My baby?” I barely got out.
Matteo came to stand next to me, but it seemed like it took him forever to get to me. When he did, he took my hand and kissed it.
“He’s healthy, baby,” he said, and he helped me sit up.
I felt a wave of nausea but pushed it aside as Matteo held my hand and pulled me closer to him.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Right here, Signora Fausti,” said a nurse who I hadn’t even noticed was in the room.
“You haven’t seen him yet?” I asked Matteo.
“I was waiting for you to wake up.” He wiped a tear from my cheek. “We were wondering what took you so long.”
As the nurse set my son in my arms, it was a feeling like I’d never felt before. It made me laugh and cry at once, pulling him closer to my chest, breathing him in like he was my air. He was a weight that rooted me to this world.
“He looks just like you, Matteo,” I said, fixing his blue blanket and gazing at his face.
And then…
His eyes fluttered open.
“He has the color of your eyes,” Matteo said, running his hand through all his dark hair. “Or will. They’re dark blue.”
The nurse came over. “He waited for you both,” she said, smiling. “That’s the first time he’s really opened his eyes. He recognizes both of your voices.”
“I’m so in love,” I barely got out. “So in love.”
After I had my turn to love on him, I handed him to his father. Matteo took him, looked him in the eyes, and said softly, “My son.” Then he repeated the words in Italian, bringing him over to the window, where the stars were out. But I noticed…Matteo wasn’t moving as fast, or as naturally, as he usually did. I thought maybe it was because he wanted to take it slow with his son, absorb every second of him.
“His name?” I asked, watching the two loves of my life as they bonded over the stars. I knew it was only right for Matteo to name him. I knew he would look at him and give him the perfect one.
“Luca. Luca Piero Fausti.”
“Luca,” I said, trying it on for size. “That’s perfect. So perfect. Luca is our light.”
Matteo turned around and slow shuffled toward the bed. He set Luca in my arms, and all I could do was just gaze at this perfect human that my husband and I had created out of love. I wanted to call Luca little, but he was a chunky weight in my arms, and I couldn’t get enough of his cheeks. I wanted to keepkissing him, holding him close, kissing him again, running my hands through his jet-black hair, breathing him in. Matteo sat next to us, watching as I couldn’t get enough of our son.
Matteo stroked the side of my face. “You gave me this gift, at the peril of your own life. You bled for me. You gave me life through his life. Our love in physical form. Thank you, my wife. My life.” He took my hand and kissed my pulse. “My wife and my son are the greatest honors of my life.”
I started to cry again, blubbering to Matteo about how much I loved him, and would never lie to him again, how much I wanted to live forever just so I could love him. He shushed me, kissing me, until Luca squawked.
We both stared at him and smiled.
