Later, lying tangled in sheets with Cesare's hand on my belly, I felt it again.
Peace.
Real, bone-deep peace.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too. Both of you."
"Say hi to the baby."
He shifted, pressed a kiss to my stomach. "Hi, sweetheart. It's your papa. We're building your room. Your mama and I can't wait to meet you."
The tenderness undid me. This man. This life. This unexpected, complicated, beautiful reality.
"We're going to be okay," I said. "The three of us. We're going to be happy."
"We already are."
He was right. Despite everything—despite the forced beginning, the violence, the betrayals—we'd found something real. Something worth fighting for.
And in seven months, we'd meet the person who'd made it all worthwhile.
Our baby.
Our light after so much darkness.
Our everything.
CHAPTER 24
Cesare
Eighteen weeks.
Four and a half months since that April morning when I'd married the wrong woman and somehow found the right one.
Paola stood at the kitchen counter, making tea, one hand absently rubbing her lower back. The bump was unmistakable now—round and firm, pressing against her soft sweater. Beautiful.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, coming up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist.
"Tired. Sore. The baby's been moving all day but you still can't feel it from the outside." She leaned back against me. "Dr. Lin says any day now you'll be able to feel kicks too."
I'd been waiting for weeks. Paola had felt the first flutters around sixteen weeks—butterflies, she'd called them. Small movements that made her gasp and reach for my hand. But every time I'd tried to feel them, Lucia had gone still. We’d found out we were having a daughter.
"She's playing favorites," I said.
"She's shy around her papa."
"Or she's already plotting against me."
Paola laughed, the sound warming the entire penthouse. "She's your daughter. Plotting is genetic."
I pressed a kiss to her neck, breathed in her scent. She'd started using different lotion—something about pregnancy making her skin sensitive—and now she smelled like vanilla and something uniquely her.
"Come sit," I said. "You've been on your feet all morning."
"I'm making tea. It takes two minutes."
