"We really should get out of bed sometime," Giovanni hints, without a single shred of weight to accompany those words. His arms are locked around my body, his hands firmly in my hair. Still in his lap, still out of breath, I wrap my legs tighter around him, beaming from ear to ear against his mouth.

"I don't think so."

"It's noon."

My hands trace the outline of his face, as I bestow kisses to his mouth. He speaks between the breaks.

"And a weekday."

"Mhm."

"We both have a rather important event coming up." He chuckles when I shake my head. "It's in a week, Scarlett."

"Your line is complete. Your staff is on it. My staff is on it." I smile when he gazes up at me, his eyes alight with laughter. His hair is a messy mop, his skin still damp from our morning spent in bed. My nerves are still firing. I feel them in the tips of my fingers as my hands drift over his shoulders and around his neck. "For four months, you slaved over these designs. You worked, I promoted. This is going to be a hit. There's nothing to be worried about."

"It's my first work on display since the laundering scandal."

"The reactions to the previews should have rid you of doubt." My mouth twists. "In fact, the reassurance of your wife should have done it."

That word still sounds foreign, and delightful to say. Never would I have thought I'd refer to that word with contentment in my life. But, the past four months have changed that.

Giovanni's changed that. By being unabashedly himself, unable to reveal any other part of himself to me because I've already discovered what there is to know before the ring was on my finger. There was no demon lurking within, ready to pounce and show itself the second we were legally bound together.

Nothing's changed, and it's ridding me of my bitterness, day by day.

"Doubtful. You can't tell me if you hate it."

"As if I could hate anything you make."

"Exactly. You're proving my point here."

"Charmeuse silk gowns, Italian wool suits—handmade. Giovanni, your line is elegant, and nostalgic, and has pieces for both men and women, which is rarely heard of. The release is right before Christmas, which is dynamite for sales. You have nothing to worry about." I make him look at me. "And if a single person reports something negative, I'm coming for them. And you can be sure they will change their tune."

"You sound pretty confident about all of this," he observes, appearing glad for it.

"No one should mess with a pregnant woman. That was a myth that turned out to be fact."

His fingers massage into my back on their way down to my hips. His eyes lower between us to the belly that's suddenly popped in the last two weeks. It's a gigantic force between our bodies. He hums, and his dark irises flicker back to me. "And the one about sex? The one where I'm supposed to not find this attractive?"

My teeth scrape against my lip, my heart fluttering like wings as I remember my concerns spouted to him months ago. "You tell me."

He shakes his head, leaning in until his mouth settles over mine.

"Myth. Definite myth."

...

"I am pleased to announce that the furniture has finally been assembled by the decorator," Rebecca announces in her steady glide into the office, still looking down at her tablet. "She sent the final photos, which await your approval before she sends the bill."

"Good. It's about time."

She lays down the print-outs on the desk. "I bet Giovanni will be glad to hear this."

I tilt the images, studying them fleetingly. The woman I hired to furnish and design the new corporate office in California is the best, most sought after modern decorator in the West Coast. I have no real concerns on her ability. "Overjoyed is more alike it. He wants to leave New York right after Christmas. Start the New Year in California. To be honest, I'm kind of anxious for it too."

"Well, after the year you've had..." She shrugs her next words off, and clearly changes them. "It will be nice to have the baby in warmer weather."

"February? I doubt it will be warm."

"Warmer, I said. I'm sure Giovanni will take you to the fanciest hospital known to man, where only the rich and powerful go. And you'll have the baby quick and graciously and be completely blissful."

"Quick? Gracious?" I chuckle, traumatized by the books I've attempted to read on the woes of labor, and instantly set down. "Doubtful, Bec. Very doubtful."

I catch her roll her eyes at me. "One of these days, you're going to warm to the idea."

"I have warmed to it."

"No, you've accepted it," she says, with a laugh to soften the blow. "You put up the front around Giovanni, but I've never once heard you speak about the baby on your own."

She's saying this out of only love, and truthfulness, and I know it. However, naturally, her words sting, and send me straight into silence. She has every right to judge, and I wish I could change how I feel. I wish I could let go of his blanket of doubt, and uncertainty that is draped over the subject of the person inside of me. I want to be warm, and glowing, and anxious—I want to feel whatever Giovanni experiences when he thinks of our child, because it's apparent and beautiful...how impatient he is to meet this little person we've made together.

"I'm sorry. I...shouldn't—"

"No," I whisper, waving my hand. "You're right. Don't take it back."

I bend for my purse, feeling the pain at the base of my spine radiate. I grimace as I come back up with the bag.

"You should start thinking about taking leave, Scar—"

I chuckle, glancing up at her while I stand. "The doctors haven't told me I shouldn't work, so I won't be taking maternity leave. I have to be here."

"Yeah, yeah. We'd be fine if you worked from home, you know that, right? We wouldn't fold."

"I know that. You run this place better than I do," I mutter, slipping on my stubbornly small heels, which used to fit like a glove.

"I'd go crazy in your job. I like waking up to no text messages, thank you. I could do without the millions of complaints."

"What do you mean? You fix those complaints."

"But you make the decisions," she argues, with a smile. With a sigh, I round the desk, reminding her to call the valet, and have them outside by six instead of instead of seven.

"And our gift to Trevor?"

"I've already sent you the email. Order the watch and have it sent to his hotel room before he leaves for the party tonight."

"Will do. By the way, we still need to talk about the baby shower—"

"I told you."

"I refuse to accept you ditching this tradition!"

"How about you and I just go out for lunch? We could invite Carlos, Ed?"

"What about all of the games? The compliments? The gifts you'd get?"

"You know I'm weird about all of that, Bec," I murmur, and bring her in for a hug. She sighs when I change the subject, unsubtly. "Are you bringing your new guy tonight?"

"Leon will be there."

I pull back. "I can't wait to meet him."

Leaving the office with her still inside, I come upon Sam, who is by my side at all times publicly. Raymond follows Giovanni. The security became necessary when the news of our marriage leaked, and then the baby news within the same week. Both of our minds were occupied with Dixon, and what his reaction would be.

And even though we've heard only radio silence, the larger my stomach grew, the more we worried, particularly Giovanni. And we made the decision to keep on the security detail. Now months after, Sam has become less of a stranger, and we actually say more than hello and goodbye.

"Call the car?"

I nod, and we both start for the elevator. The office had a half day, because of the launch of Trevor Castro's new bestselling mystery series. He's one of the largest clients we have, so this party will naturally be large, and showy, and determined to keep our client—and the others who will also be in attendance—impressed by our grandeur. Everyone has been invited.

Jimmy pulls up the vehicle, and we both cross the sidewalk to the limo we'll be using tonight. Sam's eyes scan the area as he holds the door for me, reminding me why we have him, and that makes my skin crawl. Immediately, my eyes swivel around the crowded sidewalk, looking for traces of a cop uniform, or sandy blonde hair.

With relief at the lack of either of those, I slide into the backseat, smiling over at Jimmy in the front seat.

"Jimmy, you're bringing your daughter tonight, right?"

"She can hardly wait. Thank you for inviting us, again. It's not every day we're invited to a big, fancy soiree."

"Of course. Go crazy. It's a buffet. Lobster, steak, pasta."

"The works."

"Open bar too."

"Which I will definitely partake of," he says, as Sam closes himself in the passenger seat beside him. We merge into rush hour traffic, but due to Jimmy's expertise in bumper-to-bumper situations, we pull up outside of Giovanni's studio in only mere minutes. I climb out with Sam, but he stays by the vehicle. Through the windows, I see Sasha perk up at the sight of me, and hurry to the door to open it for me.

I smile, pulling my jacket in tighter. Snow follows me in, despite her haste to get the door closed.

"You make pregnancy look so elegant," she says, taking my purse. She kisses my cheek in her usual form of greeting and instantly zones in on my very large belly beneath my faux fur coat. I warm at her words, taking the compliment even if I don't believe her.

"How is he?"

"The usual. I still cannot believe you hired Lola to be a part of this show," she chuckles, when my smile widens.

"Keep your friends close, your enemies closer," I remind her, pointedly. "If we keep her employed with him, it not only keeps her contractually silent, but also close enough to watch too."

"And the publicity surrounding Giovanni hiring her?"

"Will only help him, and dull the backlash that came initially from her statements with Tony. It will make us look amiable."

"She's ditched him, right?"

"Like a bad habit. It was never about Tony. She never wanted Tony."

Sasha looks at me, cautiously, already aware that the person Lola's always wanted is definitely my husband. "And you're okay with her being around Gio?"

I can't help but smile, finding that her voice of concern hasn't even crossed my mind in a worry. I never thought I'd feel so secure.

"I trust him. We're the happiest we've ever been."

"Hey, I can see it. Never before have I ever seen this man leave his work before sunset ever, let alone every night."

We've stopped by the warehouse, where I already knew he'd be cooped up in.

"Have fun tonight," she says, kissing my cheek again.

"You're sure you can't come?"

"Big date. Looks pretty promising."

"Well, good luck."

When she heads back the way we came, I poke my head into the warehouse, and at the noise, Giovanni's head snaps up. He's seated at the steel table, laid out in expensive, creamy fabrics. Glad he's alone, I enter further, slipping through the heavy door. He glances at his watch, and blanches.

"I hadn't realized it had gotten so late."

"It's fine. We're not late." I shrug it off, stopping beside the table. Still seated, he wraps his arm around my waist, sighing as I appraise the last minute details he'll be adding to the line of suits before the end of the week.

"What do you think?"

"You're seriously asking me that? You know I can hardly pick out my own clothes."

He laughs. "Humor me."

Humming, hardly able to find a flaw, I say, "I think the stitching of the initials inside the sleeve should be white, instead of black."

He grabs one of the fabrics, and studies the color for a moment.

"You may be right."

I flip through a few pages, shaking my head. "Gio, there really isn't anything to criticize. They are all perfect. You've made sure they are all perfect."

He kisses my knuckles, and stands, reaching for his coat on the back of the seat. "I'll take your word for it then, as usual."

I laugh, stretching to wrap his scarf around his neck, but he takes it from me.

"No, you use it. Why aren't you wearing one, or gloves?"

I roll my eyes while he bundles me in his winter gear for the mere walk across the sidewalk we will make to the car.

"When do you ever take my word for it?" I question him, grinning slowly when he cups my frozen face between his warm hands and kisses me to distraction.

"Let's go."

...

"That's quite the arm candy you've got there," Connie Taylor says exuberantly to me over the noise, replacing her empty champagne glass with a fresh one. Even the man holding the tray knows she's thoroughly intoxicated. I glance at Giovanni, with an amused smile.

"He cooks too."

Garnering more attention than the man everyone's supposed to be here for, Giovanni stands like a monument beside me, keeping me close as we drift around the room, murmuring obligatory greetings to enough people to pass off being polite. Over the months, in the dozens of events we've attended together, the reactions to our coupling have become mostly curiosity. People gawk at him from top to bottom, drinking in the sight, until they see the wedding band, almost as if they can't believe it's there.

And then they look to me, like they can't believe I've actually managed to do it.

Land this icon. This un-gettable bachelor who looks like he's sculpted from clay.

The second their eyes land upon me, with that wonder, I find myself full of it too. It's only in those moments, moments like now, that bring me back down to reality, and reminds me how unbelievable it is that he's mine, that he chose me.

Carlos and Rebecca are joined at the hip, their dates seated on either side of them, taking advantage of the unlimited liquor. I can't, and I've noticed that Giovanni chooses not to either. In fact, this entire pregnancy I haven't seen him reach for liquor.

I'm not sure why. But my overactive imagination imagines many different things. Maybe it's because he's trying to show me he doesn't need it? Maybe he thinks that because I'm pregnant, I'd instantly associate liquor with my own childhood, and the man who raised me? Maybe I'd worry that one day there might be a day where he needs to more than he should?

The fact that I can even put those thoughts together makes me believe truly that he knows me better than I know myself.

"You've been up for a while," he whispers beside my ear, gently. "You should sit."

I don't argue on it. My feet are killing me. My back hurts, and I can't stop yawning.

When we sit, we both turn to each other, like we can't be bothered by anyone else. My legs are between his, and his hand is rubbing my knee over the dress I can hardly breathe in.

"Can I get you anything?"

I shake my head and lean in, pressing my face into his soft suit jacket. My eyes close, and I hum with contentment, wishing I could sleep.

"Connor is headed over here."

"Damn."

My eyes peel open, and search for the sight of our largest investor. I smile at the sight of him, but it widens when I see his daughter trailing along with him, and Valentina, to both of our surprise.

"Valentina?" Giovanni asks, shooting out of his chair with me. Connor chuckles as she skips into Giovanni's arms.

"Since we were already coming, your mother asked if we'd bring her. She wanted to come," Connor says, shaking Giovanni's hand when Valentina pulls back. Connor's daughter is bright red, wide eyed, locked on Giovanni as he speaks softly to Valentina. Connor tears my attention from them with a chaste peck on the cheek. "Wonderful party, dear."

"Thank you, Connor. I'm glad you could make it."

"Well, I'm just glad the trips won't be so far in a few months. When will the building be ready for use?"

"The furnishing was completed today. We should be able to leave in a few weeks, once I've gotten everything situated here with the transfers."

"California's not so bad. At least there isn't this dreadful snow."

I chuckle. "Well, I love snow."

"That baby might not though," he says, diverting the conversation to my belly. His smile widens, as almost everybody's does when they mention the baby. "Wow. How much longer?"

"Two months, two weeks," Giovanni answers for me.

"He's counting," Connor states, impressed. "Good. You'll need to be that sharp when the baby arrives."

"Gio, can I have some champagne? It's a special night. Mom isn't here—"

"Nice try, Val," he replies, laughing freely. I glance between them warmly, noting how rare it is that they are together as of late.

"Well, can I come stay with you tonight? Can we come stay with you? I've never even stayed in your apartment here."

"Um..."

Giovanni doesn't look at me, although by the uncertainty in his body language, he feels he has to, which is why I clear the air fast.

"Sure, you guys can," I hear myself say, warmly, looking to Connor when the girls squeal. "If it's alright with you. We can have them back in the morning."

"The flight is at ten. Is that good?"

I glance at Giovanni, who nods, regarding me closely. "Of course, we'll have them back early."

I gesture to the buffet line, which is lined with hungry guests. "Head on over. We can talk later. The lobster is great."

Connor nods, and tells the girls where to go. I sit back down again, shocked by how fatigued I feel. Giovanni clasps my face and I smile, tiredly.

"Thirty minutes?" he asks.

"Thirty minutes," I reply, instantly, with relief.

...

I'm startled awake, thrown from a nightmare I cannot remember, which has me up and out of bed, on my feet. I can hardly see my feet over my stomach. I rest a hand against the cotton covering the surface, exhaling deeply in effort to calm my weary heart. My eyes move to the clock, which reads one AM. I've only been asleep for two hours.

The space beside my side is empty, the covers turned out. I leave the room in search of Giovanni, and find him on the couch, watching a silent film with subtitles. The girls are gone, but the evidence of them is still on the coffee table in the form of junk food. I lean against the doorway, looking at him. In a long-sleeved sweatshirt and sweats, intently focused on the screen, his finger moving against his bottom lip in slow strokes.

I smile, despite any remaining discontentment I may feel from the abrupt nightmare, remembering a time when we weren't together like this. I give myself away when I feel a sudden nudge to stomach, and gasp at the shock of it. We were overdue to feel a kick, a bump soon, and Giovanni even brought it up in the last appointment.

Giovanni glances over his shoulder at me, as I bring my hand to my stomach in disbelief. And for some reason, I can't control how wide my mouth gets, how hard I beam over at him. A full face-splitting grin.

"Gio," I whisper, panicking on the inside as I hurry over to him. He sits to attention, setting down the remote.

"What? What is it?"

My knees sink into the couch, as I lean, grabbing hold of his hand and set it flat on my belly. "Here."

I move his fingers over the area our baby nudged, for once, feeling insane excitement. His smile is beautifully nervous as he waits to experience the monumental moment too. When it doesn't happen, I pick another spot, biting on my lip.

"Maybe you should speak," I whisper, crawling onto his lap. I hug his hips with my knees and lift my tank top to expose the skin, so my stomach is touching his shirt. He smiles, softly, looking down between us.

He covers his hands over the warm skin, inhaling deeply. After a few beats of silence, with only the instrumental score of the silent film behind, he swallows.

"I don't know what to say."

"Me either."

Both so unaccustomed to this, we stare at each other, waiting for the other to offer a solution. My stomach is dormant. When he knows I have nothing to say, his hands gently move over the area, and he redirects his attention back to the skin.

"This is your daddy," he utters, softly.

My eyes slowly drift from his hands up to his face, and I feel my face falling with quickness.

This is your daddy.

Those words unravel me, shake me to my core. I'm not upset, or fearful.

Just shocked. Giovanni is speaking to his child. The child he'll hold in a few months.

I swallow now, trying to gather myself together as he speaks again.

"We're both really excited to, um, meet you. Your mother tries to hide it, but she's kind of bad at it," he jokes, laughing when my mouth scrunches with disapproval. "She is great. You're going to like her."

I shake my head, affectionately.

"In the movies I've watched, this is the part where I say how we met, or something. But, that's, um, a story I hope you never, ever hear. In fact, your mother and I will have to come up with a complete lie. I'm sure of it."

I laugh, biting my lip deeply, enjoying this.

And my skin thumps against his flattened palm, causing him to immediately grin.

"Oh, shit," he breathes, clearly as overwhelmed as I am. I nod, feeling the kicks and wiggles everywhere. I feel completely unsure of every emotion going through my body right now. Giovanni's jaw tenses, and I catch his chest expand as he stares at my stomach. I watch his breath catch, and reach out, laying my hand against his chest.

"I can't believe I'm actually having a child with you." He clasps the back of my neck, pressing his face into my throat and my heart is lodged in the tunnel. I cradle his head with my own hands, holding him to me.

"What are you feeling?" I whisper.

"Grateful," he replies.

I smile, combing his hair back as he tilts his head up just enough to meet my eyes. The black and white movie reflects off of his sharp profile, but his eyes aren't distracted.

"You're my wife, and this is our baby. And my life is amazing," he whispers, stumbling over the words, his voice thick with his wonder. "I didn't know how all of this would turn out. And it's better than I imagined."

"I love being your wife," I confess, letting the words roll off my tongue in a hushed whisper, lacking any breath. He's stealing it all. This moment is stealing it all.

He kisses me, his mouth landing on mine without restraint. I feel the full force of his gratitude. And I welcome it all, holding his head between my hands as our mouths caress and drag over each other mindlessly.

Months ago, we were in mourning. Of our old lives, of dear people lost. We had no idea what the days would bring, and we dreaded it. There's still that same feeling now, but dread isn't what I feel. It's not what he feels either, I think.

We want to be happy. We are fighting blind to be happy.

I can only hope we won't be blindsided.

I push away that thought, refusing to give it any real weight in this particular moment, wanting to bask in our revelations.

Because for the first time in my life, and for the first time since the moment I received the news that I was pregnant, my heart thumps wildly at the thought of meeting this little baby. Our baby.

And for that gift, I embrace Giovanni tighter.