Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I’m stunned by how beautiful my life has become.
It hits me all at once — the vineyard, the laughter, the man I love chasing our child like nothing else in the world matters. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I want to cry, not from sadness, but from a joy so profound it almost hurts. This is real. This is ours.
Our little boy spots me and lets out a delighted shriek, running straight toward me to slam against my legs.
“Careful,” I caution. “I spent a long time making this platter.”
His small hands clutch the fabric of my dress. He giggles, peeking out at his father with mischievous eyes.
Ricci slows down, his gaze finding mine across the grass. Something soft and hungry flashes across his face. He walks over with a leisurely gait. The late afternoon light catches the slight stubble along his jaw. When he reaches me, he doesn’t speak. He simply cups my face with both hands, thumbs brushing my cheeks, and kisses me. A deep and slow kiss that steals the breath from my lungs and makes my knees weak. His mouth moves against mine like he’s savoring every second.
“I have X-rated plans for you,” he whispers.
How naughty.
We settle on the blanket. The sun filters through the leaves above us, dappling the white cloth and our plates. Ricci compliments everything — the bread I baked, the cheeses bought from the farmers market, the way the olives taste with the sangria. His voice low and warm, his hand never far from mine. We eat slowly, feeding each other bites, stealing kisses between sips of juice, the laughter of our son playing nearby wrapping around us.
I look into his eyes across the table, those whiskey depths, and I can’t hold it in any longer. I wanted to wait until later tonight, to make it special, but now, with the sun on his face and our son’s laughter in the air, I simply can’t. I turn to our little boy first and call him to me. He comes and climbs into my lap, and I brush a curl from his forehead.
“What do you think about a little sister to play with?” I ask softly, my voice trembling just a little. “Or a brother? Which would you prefer?”
He thinks about it seriously for a second, then grins. “Boy. I want a boy,” he shouts decisively.
Ricci goes still.
I feel his gaze on me, heavy and searching, but I don’t turn yet. My heart is racing, like a wild flutter in my chest. He leans in close, his breath warm against my ear, voice low and teasing.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he whispers, the words tickling my skin. He laughs softly, that deep, rich sound I love so much, but I can hear the tremor underneath it.
I take his hand gently and place it on my stomach, right where our new secret is growing.
For a heartbeat, everything stops.
I almost hear his heart stop.
He’s in disbelief for a long moment, then he jumps up, happiness exploding across his face so bright it makes my own eyes gloss over. He lifts me straight off the ground, and swings me around in a wide, joyful circle, my laughter mixing with his as the world spins around us. When he sets me down, his hands frame my face, and he kisses me again, delirious with joy.
“Thank you,” he breathes against my lips, over and over. “Fuck, I love you. You changed my whole life. Thank you.”
I smile through the tears, my fingers threading into his hair. “And you changed mine as well.”
We kiss again, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that feels like coming home and starting over all at once. Our son watches us with wide, curious eyes before running off to chase a butterfly. The vineyard stretches out around us, endless and golden in the late afternoon light.
“Here we will live happily, forever,” he says.
“Yes,” I say simply.
And they lived happily ever after…