Epilogue Emma #3
I’m as big as a house. My belly is impossible to ignore. My breasts are bigger. And hips are wider. I’m all swollen ankles and stretch marks and—
“You’re so beautiful,” Leo says, his voice full of awe.
“I’m a whale,” I counter.
“You’re carrying my daughter,” he says firmly, his hands sliding over my belly. “You’ve never looked more beautiful to me.”
He guides me to the bed and helps me lie down on my side, the position we’ve discovered works best now that my belly is so big. He strips off his own clothes then climbs onto the bed behind me, pulling me back against his chest.
His hands roam over my body, and he cups my breasts, which are definitely more sensitive. He strokes down my sides to my hips and slides over my belly, feeling our baby move and kick under his palm.
“She’s really active tonight,” he murmurs, his lips against my shoulder.
“She knows it’s a special day,” I say breathlessly as his hand continues its exploration, moving lower.
When his fingers slide between my legs, I’m already soaking wet. Pregnancy has done something to my sex drive, making everything more intense and sensitive.
Or maybe that’s just Leo. Maybe it’s always been like this with him.
He works me slowly with his fingers, building me up gradually, watching my face in the mirror across from the bed. I can see us reflected there—his body curved around mine, his hand moving between my legs, my face flushed and wanting.
“Leo,” I breathe. “Please.”
“Not yet,” he murmurs, his fingers curling inside me that makes me gasp. “I want to make this last.”
He takes his time, bringing me right to the edge and then backing off. Again and again until I’m writhing against him and ready to murder him.
“Leo, I swear to god if you don’t finish what you’ve started, I’ll be a widow,” I snarl.
He chuckles against my neck and finally, finally positions himself behind me. He places one hand on my hip, and the other slides under my belly to support it. Then he’s pushing inside me. The stretch of him filling me makes me gasp and my back arch.
“Okay?” he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.
“More than okay,” I moan. “Move. Please.”
He does, setting a slow, steady rhythm that’s gentle but deep. His hand stays on my belly the entire time and his other hand finds mine and our fingers intertwine, holding tight.
“I love you,” he says against my shoulder, his breath hot on my skin. “I love you both so much. My wife. My daughter. My family.”
The words push me over the edge. I cry out his name, pleasure rolling through. He follows shortly after, groaning against my neck, his hand tightening on mine.
Afterward, we stay tangled together, his hand still on my belly, both of us feeling our daughter move. She’s really active now, kicking and rolling and making her presence known.
“I think she’s celebrating too,” Leo says softly, his thumb stroking across my stomach where we feel her moving.
“Or protesting the disturbance,” I point out. “We probably interrupted her nap.”
He laughs quietly. “Poor kid. She’s going to have to get used to that.”
I roll over carefully and face him. His hand immediately goes to my belly again, like a magnet drawn to it.
“I can’t believe we’re married,” I murmur, reaching up to touch his face. “I can’t believe you’re my husband.”
“Believe it,” Leo says, catching my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. “You’re mine now. Officially. Forever.”
“Yours,” I agree then smirk slightly. “And you’re mine. No take-backs.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says seriously, his gaze locked on mine. “I’ve always been yours, Emma. From the moment I saw you.”
I want to make a joke about how the moment he saw me was at my wedding to another man and that’s kind of a fucked up meet-cute.
But I don’t because looking at him now—at the love in his eyes, at the way his hand rests so protectively on our daughter—it feels like from that first moment, this was inevitable.
Like we were always going to end up here.
Our daughter kicks hard. I wince and Leo laughs, his hand pressing gently where we feel her moving.
“She’s strong,” he says proudly. “Like her mother.”
“God help us both,” I mutter. “A mini-me with your stubbornness? We’re doomed.”
“We’re blessed,” he corrects, kissing me softly.
I snuggle into him and marvel at how the worst day of my life became the beginning of everything. The day Leo took me should have ruined me and been the end of everything good.
Instead, it was the start.
The start of us. The start of this family. The start of a life I never could have imagined but wouldn’t trade for anything.
I’m Emma Santoro now. Wife. Soon-to-be mother. Former captive turned willing partner in this beautiful, complicated, impossible love story.
And I wouldn’t change a single thing.
Well maybe I’d change the morning sickness and the swollen ankles and the fact that our daughter seems to think 2 a.m. is the perfect time for dance parties.
But the rest of it? Love, family, our future?
That’s perfect.
That’s everything.
That’s home.