Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Seven Months Later
They say good things in life can change bad men.
I was raised in a world of violence and destruction.
My career was the same.
I believed I’d never have a real relationship and my life would always be wrapped around my job.
Then, I met Pippa.
With our baby girl on the way soon, I vowed to be a better man.
But sometimes, it’s pretty fucking hard.
And sorry, baby girl, but sometimes, Dad has to kill idiots.
I pistol-whip the man tied up in the chair before me. Blood drops from his lip and onto the floor. His eye is swollen, and he already has a gunshot wound—compliments of my Glock—on his shoulder.
“You shattered the window of my wife’s dance studio and stole from her,” I grind out.
He cries out in pain when I slam the handle of the gun to the top of his head. “I’m sorry, man! I didn’t know it was your wife’s!”
This asshole threw a brick through The Ballet Studio’s window, ran inside, and stole what he could. He didn’t get much since the alarm spooked him, and no one was inside. Still though, you don’t get away with hurting my wife, and that hurt my goddamn wife.
“I’m sorry,” Jack—yeah, I think his name is Jack—continues to ramble like I give a shit.
He could tell me he’s sorry a hundred times and tattoo that on his skin, and I wouldn’t give two shits. I’ve been good since Pippa doesn’t exactly like when I come home bloody and bruised, but technically, Jack will be the only one bloody.
“I just thought it was some random place,” Jack wails, and I hit him upside the head again because his voice grates on my nerves.
Just as I’m about to ram the gun into his skull again, my phone rings. I roll my eyes at Jack’s cries while fishing my phone from my pocket.
Pippa.
“Hey, babe,” I answer. “I’m kind?—”
“The baby is coming!” she screams. “Get your ass home!”
“On my way.” I end the call, shoot Jack in the head, and tell Julian to clean up the mess because his niece is about to be born.
“And this is your nursery that Mama decorated for you,” I coo while cradling my daughter in my arms, showing her the nursery for her first time.
Pippa was in labor for ten hours. I lost count of the number of times she said she was kicking my ass for knocking her up. I laughed it off, which only pissed her off more. I held her hand, assuring her everything would be okay, as she gave birth to our beautiful baby girl, Alessia Lake Bellini.
Now, three days later, we’re home.
Lanie is covering all of Pippa’s classes at the studio. For the next four weeks, we’ll be adjusting to life with a newborn.
I take Alessia on a tour of the ballerina-themed nursery. The furniture is pink, the wallpaper a ballet-slipper print, and stuffed ballerina dolls are set up around the room. Pippa oversaw the decor, and I was in charge of building everything. I’ll never forget the memories of the hours we spent in this room, getting everything perfect for Alessia’s arrival.
After the wedding, we decided to keep the news of the pregnancy between us. Pippa wanted time to process it and us to enjoy knowing it was our secret. We went on a second honeymoon to Paris for two weeks and then shared the surprise with everyone when we got home.
Since then, Alessia became spoiled.
Not only by us but also by our friends and family.
“I love you,” Pippa whispers before softly kissing Alessia’s head.
“So does your daddy,” I say, holding her tiny hand in mine.
I finish my tour, showing her the closet and her tutu onesie that says, My First Tutu . When we’re finished, we spend another thirty minutes picking apart which feature Alessia got from us.
She has Pippa’s nose.
My eyes.
Pippa’s cuteness.
I can’t wait to meet more of my daughter every day.
To be a father.
I gulp, shutting my eyes, wishing my family were here to meet her. But I know they’re looking down, smiling, and loving the new baby Bellini. I’ll make sure to share stories of them with Alessia as she grows up.
By the end of the day, we’re yawning and exhausted. Pippa carefully lays Alessia down to sleep, and we make ourselves comfortable in bed.
“I think I could sleep for a hundred nights,” Pippa says, blowing out a breath.
I turn to her, wrapping her in my arms, and hold her.
“Pippa,” I whisper.
She peers up at me with sleepy eyes. “Yes?”
I run my hand along her arm. “Thank you for making the sacrifice of loving me.”