Page 86 of His Assistant

“I love you, too,” I say when I can finally catch my breath. “So much.”

His breath catches and he collapses next to me, physically and emotionally spent. He pulls me against him and runs his fingers through my hair. It’s so gentle, so intimate. We only move to pull the comforter over us, and we lie there naked for what feels like hours.

Whatever is growing between us feels fresh and fragile. It feels like the beginning of something incredibly important. Something so precious, even words might shatter it.

Then I think, screw it. If we’re going to build something real, then we can’t be afraid to say the hard things. We can’t shy away from the things that scare us. We have to face them head on, together.

I rest my chin on his chest and run my fingers over his bare skin. “I think you’re my person,” I tell him.

He chuckles lowly. “I know you’re my person,” he says. “I hope that doesn’t scare you.”

I shake my head. “As long as I’m with you, I’m not afraid of anything,” I say, snuggling closer to him.

EPILOGUE

SOFIA

Six Months Later

It’s 2:17 in the morning when my water breaks. I know because I jolt awake at the feeling and grab my phone.

“Dominic,” I say, shaking him hard.

I’ve learned over the last few months that he sleeps like the dead. It probably doesn’t hurt that his room is as dark as a tomb. Just to help things along, I flip on the light. He groans, but when he sees me calmly watching him, his face shifts. He looks down at the wet spot on the bed.

“Did your…”

“Yep,” I answer. “We need to get to the hospital.”

“I told you that you were going into labor,” he says happily, getting up and coming around to my side of the bed. He takes my hands and helps me up. It’s necessary. These days, I can do little more than waddle.

As I rise, pain washes over me, and I grab him hard.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his face going pale. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m having a contraction,” I say through clenched teeth.

He freezes.

“How far apart are they?” he asks, panic in his voice.

I look up at him, glaring. “I don’t know. That was the first one.”

He nods, looking a little less terrified.

“I’m calling Dr. Greco,” he says. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

As he helps me to the elevator, Chiara’s door opens. She comes out wearing a silk robe, fuzzy slippers, and an eye mask perched on her head.

“Oh my God,” she shrieks. “Is it happening?”

“It’s happening,” Dominic answers for me. “If you want to come, you’d better be downstairs in the next three minutes.”

She shrugs off her robe to reveal she’s already dressed.

“I’ve been sleeping in regular clothes just in case.” She smiles.

Then she reaches behind the door to grab something. “And I’ve got your suitcase packed.”