Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
As if sensing me, he looked up, standing and setting his book on the table. He walked down the steps, heading my way. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him stroll toward me. Tall, proud, his skin a dark honey from the sun, his hair lighter from the time outdoors, and his muscles rippling as he moved, he was sex on legs and, even after two years, I found it hard to believe he was mine.
He reached me, bending to press a lingering kiss to my mouth, his hands cradling my rounded stomach.
“How are my girls?”
I grinned. “Thirsty. Hungry, too.”
“What a shock.” He chuckled as he wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me toward the deck. “I have something to help with both of those.”
He settled me into my favorite chair and handed me a tall glass of the juice. I sipped it, watching with delight as he left, returning quickly with two bowls. The Alfredo and penne were studded with chicken and broccoli, smelling incredible, the garlic and cheese wafting up from the steam.
“You knew I was coming?”
He laughed. “Evie radioed you were on your way. She said you’d mentioned you were hungry—twice.”
“I ate there too. She gave me a grape jelly sandwich—well, two of them—and they were good, but our girl needs pasta.”
He chewed and swallowed. “Every pregnancy, her cravings were the same. Grape jelly sandwiches and milk. Matteo could barely keep it in the house.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Much the same way you keep me slaving away in the kitchen with your demand for fresh pasta and Alfredo.”
I snorted around a mouthful. “You love it in your kitchen.”
He leaned close and kissed me. “I do. I love you as well.”
I smiled at him. “I know. I love you right back.” I patted my stomach where the skin jumped. “We both do.”
Marcus
I glanced up from my book, unable to contain my smile. Missy was asleep in her chair, her head back on the pillow I had tucked behind her, her hands folded over our daughter, who appeared to be sleeping inside her momma, safe and, for the moment, sated with pasta and juice. It was rare not to see movement rippling under Missy’s skin, a hand or foot pushing, getting ready to join us, although we still had six weeks left until her due date.
I was quite convinced she wouldn’t wait that long. Even the doctor was prepared for this to be an early baby.
The breeze caught my wife’s hair, stirring it around her peaceful face. The honey had lightened with all the time she spent in the sun, yet the red hue had deepened, and it was a stunning combination. I loved her hair. She had let it grow, and it now hung halfway down her back, a thick ribbon of ever-changing sunrise. She had filled out, and her face and eyes had lost that haggard, frightened look she had carried for so long.
After we’d made our decision to live here, Matteo took charge, and plans for the house were quickly drawn up. As difficult as it was, I left Missy here under his care and returned to Canada to close out my life there. Julian hadn’t been happy, nor was he surprised by my resignation. He shook my hand and wished me well. None of my team stayed, scattering to the wind and other lives, except for Damien. He moved to Julian’s office and became his right-hand, concentrating on computers and systems, tracking down leads. Julian trusted him implicitly.
I worked as quickly as I could, anxious to return to Missy. The warehouse was emptied, and I gave it to Julian for whatever use he could find for it, my possessions mostly sold except for personal items, and I arranged for Missy’s few boxes to be shipped to me and closed out her apartment in the States.