And while I appreciate the space to breathe, it's time to talk.
I'm ready, and this feels like the one topic we need to put to rest in order to fully be on the same page.
"I still want one." I play with the hair on his neck, scared to look into his eyes. I don't really know if Saint wants a child anymore, or if his desperation was fueled by Antonio alone. All I know is how I feel. "I want a baby with you. I want to have a family. A big one." I swallow deeply.
"But?"
I sag. I've been hoping he'll say something else, but this is fine. This is a conversation I'm driving.
"Not yet." I meet his eyes, praying I don't see disappointment. "I need to finish school, and I need time. I don't want to jump from daughter, wife, to mother. I don't—" I let out a shaky breath. "I don't think I'd be able to do it properly that way."
He's quiet. Processing.
"How long?" he asks. "Until you're ready?"
"A few years," I touch his face tenderly, praying he understands. I'm not Sera. I need to get my head on straight before I become a mother. I've never had time to breathe, to learn about myself, and I'm desperate for that level of freedom.
There's a long, tense silence between us, and it's breaking me.
"Can you say something, please?" I beg. I look past his intense green eyes, to the view behind him.
His fingertips brush a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "Can I be honest?"
"Please." I grit my teeth trying to make sure that I'm calm.
"Part of me wants to say no. Wants to argue that we've waited long enough, and that we should start now." He pulls me closer. "But the bigger part—the part that loves you, really loves you—knows you're right. You need this time. This chance to be Gemma before you're someone's mother."
Relief floods through me. "You mean it?"
"Yes. Two years. Three. However long you need." He kisses my forehead. "Because when we do have a baby, I want you to be ready. Really ready. Not because it's expected or required or part of a contract, but because you want it. Choose it." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "I want a family with you," he admits. "I never thought I'd want to be a father, but weirdly enough..." He chuckles. "Who knew a psychopath could desire something so pure."
Tears prick my eyes. "I did," I kiss him, softly. I pull away. "After all, Adrian has a whole brood."
Saint laughs. "I think the twins did it for me," he squeezes me tightly. "They are pretty fucking cute."
My nieces, Bea and Lucy, are so perfect that I'm not surprised they have wrapped two the city's most dangerous men around their little fingers.
"I don't own your body, Gemma," Saint whispers. "We are partners in this. When you're ready. I will be too."
I kiss him. Deep. Grateful. Loving.
When we break apart, he's smiling. "Besides. Three years gives me time to get used to the idea of being a father. The twinsare cute, but Angelo scares the shit out of me. Sera told me he climbed the gate and got out onto the street."
I chuckle. Angelo is a wild child, and my favorite. I'm pretty sure he'll give my brother a run for his money though I keep those thoughts to myself.
"I'm serious, Gem. How the fuck does that happen? He's two."
"I'm sure you and Marcello did worse."
He looks at me with mischief in his eyes.
"Obviously." He grins. "Which is why I've decided we will only be having girls."
I laugh again. A full belly one. One full of joy. "I don't think you have too much say in that. What I can say is that either way, we'll never be bored."
"True." Saint nuzzles my neck, and I can feel him swelling against me, somehow harder than before. I stand up. "How about we practice?" I ask, untying the halter of my dress.
Saint has me in his arms in seconds.
