“How’s Mommy’s good boy?” I ask.
“Cazzo, moglie. Cosa ti ho detto di usare quelle parole?”Fuck, wife. What have I told you about saying those words?
I smile sweetly at my husband as I say, “Devo dirle solo a letto. Con te.”I must only say them in bed. With you.
It took me two years, but I am finally fluent in Italian. Turns out, being able to hold private conversations in another language has advantages when you have a toddler who repeats everything.
Nico narrows his eyes and crooks his finger at me. The smoldering look on his devastatingly handsome face is lethal to my panties. If I weren’t already five months pregnant, I’d mount that man and ask him to put another baby into me.
I lift Apollo into my arms and make my way to Nico as directed. He takes our son from me and places him on his hip as he wraps his free arm around my body and kisses me on the forehead.
“My mommy,” Apollo says, pushing his dad’s face away. Nico laughs as my sweet boy leans down and kisses me, just as his daddy did.
Wiping away the wetness left behind from Apollo’s soggy kisses, I chuckle. “So jealous, like your daddy.”
“My guy knows who the queen in this house is.” Nico threads his fingers with mine and leads me to the couch.
The three of us take a seat on the plush sectional in our den. Apollo climbs into my lap and rests his head on my chest as Nico lifts my legs and drapes them over his lap.
He places his big, inked hand over my bump. “How are my girls today?”
I’ve spent the last ten hours on my feet at the hospital, but all the stress and exhaustion evaporated when I walked through the door of our home to be with my loving husband and our boy.
“We are perfect,” I assure my protective man.
Nico winks at me. “You will be.”
I rest my head against the fluffy pillows along the back of the sofa and watch him sink his fingers into my aching calves, massaging the pain away. This has become our routine, even when I’m not pregnant.
A tear rolls down my cheek at the tender, loving care my husband lavishes on me.
People still assume the worst of my husband, but they couldn’t be more wrong. Nico really is a softy. By far the most loving and lovable man alive. He’s incredibly sweet and attentive to me and our son. He has the biggest heart, and when he loves, he loves with his whole being.
I still can’t believe he chose me. Even when I tried to push him away, he was steadfast in his determination to prove that we were meant to be together.
“Hey, what are the tears for,gattina?” Nico wipes the wetness off my cheek. “Is everything okay? Should I call the doctor?”
“I’m fine. Just incredibly happy.”
Nico chuckles. “Those pregnancy hormones are really kicking in, aren’t they?”
“They are.” I sniff. It’s easy to get emotional from overwhelming happiness when I’m married to the perfect man.
Apollo lifts his head off my chest. “Don’t cry, Mommy.”
“It’s okay to cry, my love. These are happy tears, because I love you and Daddy so much.” I pull Apollo into my chest and hug him tight, breathing in his sweet vanilla baby scent. “I’m so happy to be home. I missed you. Did you have fun with Daddy today?” A grin splits my son’s face as his little head bobs up and down, his hair flopping around his face. “What did you do?”
“We went to see Delly. Then…” He tilts his head to the side, collecting his thoughts. “Then we played at the park.”
“Was it equipment day?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm.” Apollo nods.
Nico never misses equipment day. He loves helping the kids get fitted with new cleats and gloves, or whatever else they need. Next to the first day of baseball season, it’s his favorite day of the year.
“That’s awesome, baby.” Apollo climbs off my lap and dashes off to play with his toys in the corner of the room.
I glance at Nico to find him rubbing his chin. He has something on his mind. I grab his hand and squeeze. “What’s wrong?”
