Epilogue
Two Years Later
Emilia
I’ve always loved the smell of books. When I was younger, I would sit on the floor, surrounded by books I’d pulled from the shelves and just flip through them for that book smell.
Twenty years later, I’ve traded the floor for a plush armchair in the quietest corner of the library, the scent of old paper surrounding me.
This room has always been magical, with sunlight streaming through the tall arched windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The sight that now mesmerizes this pregnant woman is the same one that it did for that little girl ages ago.
Today, however, this magical room doesn't offer its usual reprieve.
The truth is, I am exhausted. Exhausted of sitting, of reading, of doing anything that requires more effort than breathing.
I am so ready for the baby to finally come out.
I glance down at my swollen belly, pushing against the fabric of my floral dress, reaching down to run a hand over it.
“What are you waiting for, mia stella?" I whisper, rubbing the belly. "Don't you think it's time you came out to say hello to your mama and papa?"
A sigh escapes my lips when the baby kicks as if asking me to be patient, but for how much longer?
I shift in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.
My back aches, and my legs feel like lead.
The first couple of months were pure bliss with Antonio and me making love like animals.
The pregnancy hormones made me so horny that I jumped my husband every chance I could.
I also loved watching my little bump grow and loved showing it off at work.
And then the last two months happened, and I was too big and too tired to work.
Antonio temporarily moved us back into the Rossi household, so I had people around me.
And for the most part, I’ve had to hide to stop Leonardo and my mother from fussing over me too much.
Christ, between the two of them, I can’t tell who’s more excited to have their first grandchild.
“I knew I would find you in here.” My eyes shoot up, and I sigh when I see my husband leaning against one of the shelves, watching me. "Hiding?"
“God yes,” I say with a sigh, lifting my hand for him to help me up. “I slipped out while my mom and your dad were arguing about whether the nursery has too many stuffed animals. Apparently, Leonardo bought another dozen this morning.”
“Well now, that's a lot of teddy bears," he says, sliding his hand and pulling me against him before dipping his head to kiss my lips. “Are you sore?”
“A little,” I sigh against his lips.
"Well then, let's see what I can do to help," he says, and I gasp when he bends down and scoops me into his arms. I grab onto his shoulders and giggle as he carries me out of the library and to our bedroom, then into the ensuite.
He sets me down on the bench by the tub, and I watch him roll the sleeves of his shirt up his tattooed arms, feeling my desire stir as he does so.
I take him in as he prepares a bath. The way the muscles on his shoulders shift and the way those golden hazel eyes flash when he turns to look at me.
There’s heat and love in those eyes.
Not once in the nine months of this pregnancy has the man made me feel unwanted. Not even when I began feeling fat and undesirable. He doted on me until the thoughts faded. Kissed every stretchmark that formed and was as wicked with his desire as before.
And even now, I can see him hold back as he strips me out of my dress and helps me into the tub.
His desire is restrained as he bathes me and washes my hair, but it doesn’t stop me from getting turned on.
Those rough calloused hands leave a trail of fire burning in their wake as he washes me.
By the time we’re done, I’m so turned on I could cry.
“Let’s get you dried off,” Antonio says, helping me out of the tub. He bundles me into a towel and then carries me to the bed, where he starts applying lotion to my skin, massaging my body as he moves down.
“Antonio,” I whimper as heat floods my core when his fingers graze my hips. My breath grows unsteady as his hands slide between my thighs, massaging the spot gently. “Please…”
“Please what, mia stellina?”
"Touch me," I whimper, falling back against the pillows with a sigh. “Please.”
“Lie on your side, baby,” he murmurs, helping me turn so I'm facing away from him, my swollen belly supported by the soft mattress.
He slides in behind me, his warm chest pressing against my back, and I feel the hard length of him nestled against my ass.
His hand skims over my hip and down between my thighs from behind. “Let me take care of you.”
A shiver rolls down my body when I feel his fingers brush against my inner thigh, his lips pressing hot kisses to my shoulder.
“Goddamnit, I want you so bad,”" he growls, and I moan when he slides his finger between my folds and pushes it inside me.
“Fuck, you're so wet. So fucking ready for me, mia stellina.”
“Yes, want you so much,” I whimper, my walls clenching on his finger as he starts thrusting it in and out of me. “Oh God,” I cry out when he adds another finger, moving them faster inside of me and sending a rush of heat flooding my core.
“Need to be inside you,” he says gruffly, withdrawing his fingers. I whimper at the loss, but then I feel him shift behind me, lifting my top leg and draping it back over his hip. The position opens me to him, and when the thick head of his cock presses against my entrance, I moan in anticipation.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs against my ear, always checking, always careful with me in this state.
“More than okay,” I breathe. “Please, Antonio.”
He pushes inside me slowly, filling me inch by inch, and the angle is exquisite—deep and intimate in a way that makes my toes curl. His arm wraps around me from behind, his palm splaying protectively over my belly as he begins to move.
“Antonio!” I sob as pleasure rolls through me. He thrusts into me with slow, deep strokes, his mouth hot on my neck, and when his free hand slides down to circle my aching bud, I cry out. The dual sensation—his cock filling me, his fingers working my clit—has me trembling in minutes.
“That's it, baby,” he growls against my ear. “Let go for me.”
“Harder,” I whimper as I feel pleasure build in my core, fast and threatening to overwhelm me. “Please..oh God!”
My body arches back against him as he listens, his thrusts growing faster, deeper, each stroke sending waves of ecstasy through me. His fingers move faster on my clit, and I shatter with a scream, tightening around him as violent tremors rock through me.
He follows right behind, his muscles tensing against my back as he floods me with his release, groaning my name into my hair as his hips jerk against me. His arm tightens around my belly, holding me close as we ride out the aftershocks together.
His thrusts turn slow until he stills, both of us breathing hard. He presses a kiss to my shoulder, then my neck, then the spot behind my ear that always makes me shiver. “Better than a foot massage?”
“Way better,” I heave as he helps me sit up, fluffing the pillows behind me and setting them up so I’m more comfortable.
“I’ll go get you a robe,” he says, grabbing the towel on his way to the bathroom. I admire those muscles as he walks away, smiling at the blissful feeling our little workout left me feeling.
And then I feel something, and my smile drops.
Oh.
Oh God.
“Antonio!”
***
Antonio
I'm gone for all of twenty seconds when she calls me. I smile as her voice makes its way to me. Emilia has been a little clingy since we found out we’re going to have our first child, and I'm no different.
It's been a real struggle keeping my eyes off her.
I wasn't able to breathe until she took her leave, and we temporarily moved out of our penthouse and into the Rossi estate.
Here, she has a whole community around her ready to see to her every need.
And she has the library.
“Antonio!”
“Coming, mia stellina,” I call out, grabbing her robe. “Just a second.”
“Hurry, please!” My heart threatens to stop at her words as I rush back to the room and take in her flushed face. She's calmer than I expected, but there's an excitement in those blue eyes I adore. “My water just broke.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Okay, I’ve got you," I say, rushing to the bed. I help her sit up, ignoring the wet pool under her as I help her to her feet.
“Let me get dressed," she says, and despite every instinct screaming at me to rush, I help her into a comfortable dress she'd laid out for this exact moment. Only then do we head out of the room. I keep a steady arm around her as we make our way down the stairs, calling out for Silvia.
She comes running from the kitchen and meets us at the foot of the stairs. "Her water just broke," I tell my mother-in-law. “Can you grab her things and meet us in the car?”
She’s already moving before I am done talking.
I help my wife into the car I left parked at the front when I arrived earlier from work.
I help her into the passenger seat, and by the time I'm done strapping her in, Silvia, my father and his wife, Estella, are running down the steps, carrying two bags between them.
"We'll meet you at the hospital," my father says, passing Silvia's bag when she slips into the back of my car. "Go, we're right behind you."
I nod and climb into the driver’s seat. I take my wife’s hand when she starts groaning and whimpering in the passenger seat.
The contractions started in the car—mild at first, but by the time we're halfway to the hospital, she's gripping my hand hard enough to bruise. It seems our baby is anxious to make their appearance. I break a few traffic rules on the ride, but I find that I don’t care.
When we get to the hospital without getting pulled over, I take that as a good sign.
The rest happens in a blur as I get my wife admitted to the same hospital she's worked at for the past two years. Doctors and nurses she worked with attend to her as she tries to get comfortable in the bed.
Emilia is in labor for several hours, and I stay with her, helpless to do anything to help with the pain.
I feel powerless, watching her labor for so long, turning down the epidural and choosing to have a natural birth.
My thoughts filter back to my mother, who chose the same when she was pregnant with Gabriella.
I was in the waiting room with my brothers as we all waited eagerly to meet our sister.
But my father came out alone, his eyes red and cheeks wet with tears. He couldn’t get the words out, and it wasn’t until the doctor came out that we heard the news. We had a little sister, but my mother hadn’t made it.
Watching my wife in pain tugs at the memory, and I feel panic that I try not to show.
I hold her hand tightly as she makes the last push, and our daughter is born, screaming her little lungs out.
A beautiful baby with a full head of dark hair.
I can’t take my eyes off her even as I cut the umbilical cord and the nurses whisk her away to clean her.
I turn to my wife and stroke her wet hair from her face. “Thank you,” I say, kissing Emilia’s forehead and fighting against the moisture stinging my eyes. “Thank you for staying, mia stellina. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
Emilia lifts her weak hand to mine and squeezes it. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers, her voice tired. “I love you.”
We’re still locked together when the nurses bring the baby back and place the little bundle in my arms. I fall instantly in love with her, vowing to keep my girls safe for as long as I have breath in my lungs.
I turn to Emilia and gently lay our precious daughter in her arms, kissing her forehead as she stares down at the little gift we both made.
I don't look away until the doors open, and my father, Silvia, and Estella rush in, surrounding Emilia.
“Ah, bella bambina,” my father says to our daughter. He turns to me. “She’s beautiful,” and I see the tears he tries to blink away.
“You did great, Emilia,” he chokes out, reaching out to pat her arm.
There’s a smile on my wife’s face as she turns to my father. “Do you want to know what we named your first grandchild, Leonardo?”
His eyes shift from the baby, darting between Emilia and me. “What?”
“Antonia Maria Rossi.”
~The End
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