My chin wobbles. “You’re not… you’re not mad?”
“Mad?” He actually looks confused by the question. “Whywould I be mad?”
“Because of Bellandi. Because of this. Because it’s the worst possible timing and it puts a baby in danger and it’s complicated and—”
“And it’s ours,” he finishes. "Elsa,amore mio. If you're really pregnant, do you know what that means?"
"What?" I breathe.
"It means we're having a baby," he says, a slow smile spreading across his face. "A baby!"
He slides both arms around my waist and picks me up.
I let out a small, undignified yelp as he spins me in a circle right there in the middle of the living room.
“Antonio!” I laugh, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Put me down! You’re crazy.”
He stops spinning, but he doesn’t put me down. He just holds me close, my feet dangling an inch off the floor.
“I’m not crazy,” he says, his face buried in my hair. “I’m happy. I’m so fucking happy.”
I laugh again, but this one is wet, and I know I’m crying, but it’s not because I’m scared anymore.
It’s relief. Pure, blinding relief. And now that my terror is gone, joy.
I press my face into the warm skin of his neck and breathe him in, letting the solid feel of him anchor me. “Me too,” I whisper.
He finally lowers me to the floor, but he doesn’t let go. He presses his lips to mine again, but doesn't stay there. He kisses my chin, my cheek, my temple, my jaw. Running kisses all over my face, like an excited puppy.
I laugh and try to turn away, but he holds me tight. “Stop, that tickles.”
“Never,” he murmurs against my skin. "I'm never letting you go. You're stuck with me."
"Nowhere else I'd rather be," I say, emotion thick in my voice.
He pulls back and looks at me, his eyes shining. The joy in his face is so pure and so bright it’s almost too much to take in.
A real smile, the kind I haven't felt in days, spreads across my face. My heart feels light, buoyant.
“A baby,” he says again, like he can’t believe it. He slides a hand down to my stomach, his palm splaying wide over the fabric of my shirt.
My hand covers his.
“You know,” I say, my voice still a little shaky. “We don’t actually know for sure. It could just be stress.”
Antonio’s smile doesn’t falter. "I'm choosing to believe," he says, his thumb stroking gently over my stomach. "But we'll find out for sure. I'll take care of it."
I nod, trusting him completely. He'll figure it out.
Chapter Forty Three
Antonio
The SUV idles at the curb in the muted wash of a streetlamp, engine humming beneath us.
I’ve been in too many of these back seats lately.
Too many rides where Elsa is beside me, tense and quiet, while the world outside the windows is treated like hostile territory.
