“Don’t you change a damn thing. It’s perfect.”
He smiles down at me and grabs my hands again with a new, excited energy. I don’t take my eyes off him as he leads me over to the plush rocking chair in the corner, that’s complete with the ‘Never Grow Up’ pillow sitting in the seat. When he sits me down in it, I can’t help but instantly sink. The fabric is so soft, and it somehow swallows me, even though it’s firm enough that I can get up at any time.
“Oh, my God. This is so nice.” I let out a deep sigh and lean back into the chair. His smile widens, showing off his perfect, dangerous teeth.
“You like that, huh?”
I nod back lazily, already losing myself in the comfortability. As much as I don’t want to, I finally avert my gaze from him andsurvey the rest of the room. It looks complete to me. There’s a changing table and dresser that match the crib, as well as shelves that are mounted to the walls. He’s even went so far as to buy little stuffed animals and nick-nacks that match the theme—including a Peter Pan plush sitting on the changing station.
“What are you waiting on?” I ask, still completely baffled by how amazing this all is.
“A music box for the mobile,” he reveals bashfully. My eyes water even more when I look back over to him, and I quickly wipe the first tear away when it falls. “It’s going to play ‘The Second Star to the Right’ when it turns. And itisthe original, not that new-age bullshit.” A chuckle slips from my lips, when he gestures to the air, exaggerating his point. His hand falls after a moment, and then the corner of his lips turns upward in the most adorable, timid grin. “Do you like it?”
“Like it?” I huff out, completely taken aback by his doubt. “I love it. It’s more than perfect… It’s everything I could’ve ever wanted.” I stand back up, which is surprisingly easy to do from a fluffy chair like this, and step back over to him. My hands slide up his chest and cup his face, cradling his strong jaw in my palms. “Youare everything I could’ve ever wanted.”
I pull him down and lift up on my toes, kissing him as tenderly as I possibly can. My body is so warm and languid, and when he wraps his arm around me again, I feel even more weightless. I think I died this morning and this is heaven. It has to be. An end to all of the madness we’ve endured just didn’t seem possible for so long, and now it’s closer than ever.
He pulls away again with a sweet kiss to my nose, then his eyebrow lifts with his humorous smirk.
“You want to put her clothes away?”
“Oh, my God. Yes!” I kiss him again quickly and scurry back into the bedroom, embracing the excitement tingling throughmy limbs. My face actually starts to sting from how hard I’m smiling, but that’s definitely a pain I can get used to.
Chapter 33
Damien
Two Days Later
I never thought to visit Italy. It just always seemed like one of those cliché destinations that men took their women to as a cop-out. Plus, Ashia never seemed interested in going on a long trip, so I never looked into a place like this. That’s a mistake I’ll never make again.
It’s beautiful here this time of year. Back home, it’s maybe in the low forties and everything around us is dead, waiting for the snow to fall. It’s cold here, too, but not as low since we’ve arrived. Right now, even at sundown, it’s fifty-two degrees, cloudy, and rainy—just how Ashia likes it. The air coming in through the balcony door smells like the weather, but it’s also clean and fresh, lacking any contamination from city life.
This moment feels fictional, as if I’m staring at a movie screen and not my reality. It’s still hard to believe that the angel standing before me is real. Her perfect hair sways in the soft breeze, fanning over her warm, pale skin that barely shows underneath her oversized sweater. Orange and purple dance across the sky, bathing her in a light that only emphasizes her already bright glow. The hand that wears my rings ghosts over her big pregnant belly in the cutest, absent-minded way, and the sight is hypnotizing. I’m stuck. I’m frozen at this moment in time, willing to reside in limbo until reality collapses.
The weight of our true purpose here isn’t hanging over me right now. Everything else that surrounds us doesn’t exist. It’s not that I’m hiding anything from her, or that I’ve kept her in the dark, but there’s a comfortable separation. The peace bubble we’ve created for ourselves can’t be broken anymore, and we’ve worked hard to achieve it.
I realize that even more when she turns back to me. The moment Ashia’s eyes meet mine, and that genuine happiness sprouts a smile, my heart swells to a concerning size. It’s been building all day. Each time she’s laughed or sighed in awe has added another butterfly to my stomach. It wasn’t much, but fuck, was she happy. We walked around the gardens and took an Italian cooking class provided by the hotel—and by we, I also mean my father and Zeke.
During the class, Zeke, in all of his brotherly love, purposely made Ashia laugh so hard that she had to rush off to the bathroom—aftershe had mentioned needing to go. So, to retaliate, my father tripped him as we were passing around a bag of flour. He jerked forward, causing the powder to poof out of the bag and cover his entire face and shirt. The chef didn’t seem too impressed with our shenanigans, but Ashia’s cackling was all that mattered.
“See? Now,thisis what they should’ve taught us to make today.” She giggles and takes another bite of hersecondcrostata as she makes her way back inside. Ashia isn’t normally a sweets person, but I knew the moment she set her eyes on those little slices of tart, she would crave them. I mean, it’s barely a dessert. It’s just fruit mixed with a tiny amount of sugar, piled up on ricotta cheese and a flakey crust. So, I bought all eight slices, fully expecting her to eat them all before we leave tomorrow afternoon.
I’ve beendyingto see her big, round, and happy. So, if my daughter and wife demand something, they’re going to fucking get it.
“I’ll make sure we get the recipe before we check out,” I reply, attempting to keep my excitement on a lower level. She continues to walk over to me, strutting a cute little waddle that has me melting at her feet. These next eight weeks are going to be rough on her, considering she’s only going to get bigger. We knew her small figure would play a big part in her comfortability, and as much as I love seeing her like this, I hate how much pain she’s going to be in.
As soon as she makes it close enough, I pull her onto my lap and latch onto her tightly. One of her arms wraps around my shoulders, as if I’d ever let her slide off, and I keep one hand pressed against her belly as my arm around her keeps her secure.
“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Her tone is curious, but not suspicious. She knows exactly what we’re here for, and by our conversation earlier, I’d say she fully supports it.
“I’m going to walk right up to the front door and knock.” She giggles, missing that I’m completely serious. I smile back at her anyway, unable to help myself.
“Wait, you’re serious?” Her smile doesn’t fade, but her eyes crinkle in confusion.
“Damn right.”
“I’ve watched you kick doors down and raid large buildings, and now you’re just going to knock on the door?”
