Epilogue
Ifinish dicing celery and add it to the saucepan where onion, carrot and garlic are already sautéeing away nicely.
I give it a gentle stir and throw in a decent pinch of salt, then turn back to the bench, sweeping my gaze past the island bench and over the vast dining and living space of Zayn’s penthouse.
Or should I say, our penthouse. After spending every night here for a month after Daniel’s attack, Zayn, with my permission, had my stuff moved from my apartment, which is now on the market.
Not that I brought much with me beside my clothes and shoes, a small amount of personal items and my Harry Potter books, which now take pride of place on Zayn’s custom-made bookcase that doesn’t look like it was designed to actually display books at all.
Not that Zayn cares. He’s the one who put them there.
I crack open the bottle of passata sauce, then tap the pocket of my silk robe for about the fiftieth time, feeling for the little stick that I put in there earlier.
Just the thought of those two little lines sends my head into a spin. My stomach fizzles and I envision little bubbles floating, popping and bursting around the teeny tiny miracle I now know is growing inside there.
I still can’t believe it. As I pour the sauce into the pan and add a little more salt, I think back to this morning and the pure shock that took over me in the bathroom when I saw those two lines appear.
I didn’t think I was capable of getting pregnant.
I only took the test because my period is two weeks late, and my breasts felt extra sensitive during Zayn’s thorough assault of them this morning with his tongue.
A blush spreads across my cheeks at the mere memory of it.
Daniel and I tried to conceive for over a year with no luck. Although, looking back now, I feel like luck definitely was on my side then, just as it is now.
I place the heavy lid of the saucepan on carefully and set the stove to low as nerves send a slight tremble through my hands.
How is Zayn going to react to my news?
We discussed children a few months ago, one morning after Zayn had made love to me so many times anyone would think he was going for a world record.
“We aren’t on any kind of protection,” he’d said dryly after rolling off me, both of us completely spent. “Are you sure we don’t need to be?”
“I told you,” I’d replied, unable to keep the sadness from my voice. “I’m infertile.”
He propped himself up on a forearm and drew me closer with his other arm.
“Hey,” he said gently, picking up on my change of mood instantly.
“This isn’t a deal breaker for me. If we are lucky enough to have a baby, then I’ll be thrilled.
If not, and we spent the rest of our lives just us two, I’ll also be thrilled.
” He’d kissed me then between my breasts before starting a slow trail up my neck.
“I’m more than happy to have you all to myself. ”
“I want to have our baby, Zayn.” In fact, my heart yearned painfully with want for a child of our own. “I just don’t think I can.”
“We’ll cross that bridge together if and when you’re ready.” His lips had met mine, and he gave me a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you no matter what, always and forever.”
With an ungodly amount of energy, he then proceeded to show me how much with his tongue between my legs.
And every single day since then, he’d continued to show me in a million different ways. He finally kept the promise he made to me all those years ago.
He always comes home to me.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.
I jump back, nerves causing my stomach to flip-flop wildly and in all directions.
Taking a deep breath, I run my hand over the black lace corset and matching boy shorts that are visible between the open folds of my robe before checking one last time that there’s still two lines on the stick.
I just can’t believe it.
I feel Zayn’s presence at my back before his hands wrap around my hips and glide forward to cradle my stomach, almost like he knows a little part of him is growing inside there.
He spent the day at Hope House today, providing legal council to one of the new residents. Monday’s are the only day I’m not at Hope House, now that Sam has employed me part-time as his chief of marketing and fundraising.
“Hello, my love. Coming home to you is the best part of my day,” Zayn drawls into the crook of my neck, sending shockwaves down my spine. I lift my hands over my head and run my fingers blindly through his thick, silky strands.
“Coming for you is the best part of mine.”
He chuckles into the tender spot behind my ear. “Let’s combine the two, shall we?”
I turn so I’m facing Zayn, pinned now between his hips and the island bench. My palms find his chest and I glide them down the smooth expanse of his wool suit jacket. Vanilla and sandalwood envelopes me and I instinctively breathe in my favourite scent.
“I’d love to, but I’m a bit busy at the moment.”
“So I see,” his eyes flash mischievously, but he takes a small step back and runs his hand down the black lapel of his jacket. “Smells incredible in here. I thought we were going out for dinner with Anna and Percy?”
We were supposed to be meeting the happy couple at a new French restaurant downtown, but I called Anna and feigned sickness when my plans changed abruptly this morning.
“I figured we could stay in instead,” I say, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “Just wanted to spend time with you alone.”
He flashes me a smile, showing off all his perfect white teeth.
“No complaints from me. I think I would die if you had to go put clothes on right now,” he says, his gaze raking down my body hungrily.
My skin tingles, heat pooling in my stomach as my hands twitch with the urge to reach out and touch him.
No, we need to keep our hands off until I can share my news.
“You saying I couldn’t wear this to dinner?” I tease, reaching around him for the spoon and moving to the stove.
“Over my dead body. This is for no one’s eyes but mine.”
Some girls get hot and bothered over dirty talk, but me? I love when Zayn gets all possessive.
“So you don’t mind that we aren’t going out for dinner?” I throw a look over my shoulder to find Zayn leaning back against the bench, watching me. “You like my cooking, don’t you?”
He spanks me lightly on the ass and I yelp. “You know I do. I would chain you to the stove if I could.”
I laugh with a mix of nerves and excitement. This is my moment.
“No need. You’ve already got me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”
As soon as the words are out, it feels like a weight drops between us.
Zayn’s face goes completely blank as I wait for him to say something, anything.
It takes a moment for my words to sink in before Zayn’s jaw goes slack.
I’ve never been able to completely floor Zayn before. The man is unflappable.
Until now, that is.
“You’re… pregnant?” he asks, the shock on his face morphing slowly but surely into something resembling dark satisfaction. He steps forward and cups my chin with a slight shake of his hand. “Are you sure?”
Of course tears fill my eyes as I reach into my pocket and pull out the stick, presenting it to him.
“I’m sure.”
He takes the stick from me, coasting over it quickly. “Gianna.” His voice is coarse. “We’re having a baby?”
I can only nod as a watery smile bursts from my lips. “Are you happy?”
“You have no idea.” He lifts me into his arms and kisses me softly, yet sweet enough that it reaches in and wraps around my heart.
Then he carefully places me down, and I swear I see a tear in his eye. “I had bought this to celebrate,” he says, moving away and reaching for a bottle of Cristal I hadn’t noticed him carry into the kitchen. “But I guess we’ll save it for the delivery room.”
I swipe at my cheeks, pure happiness radiating off the walls of my chest. “What were we celebrating?”
“These.” He pulls a file out of his bag and hands it to me. With shaky hands, I open it and read the first line of the document inside.
“My divorce papers came though?”
He nods.
As if I couldn’t feel any happier in this moment, relief envelopes me in a tight embrace.
“Wait.” I cast my mind back to an article Anna sent to me from the newspaper this morning.
The one I completely forgot about once I peed on that stick.
“Does this have anything to do with Daniel being slammed in the news today? Looks like someone leaked that he’s up on sexual assault charges. ”
I look up at Zayn, whose face, of course, gives nothing away.
“Don’t know what you’re taking about,” he says as he empties his pockets, but I swear I detect the slightest ghost of a smile play on his lips before it disappears without a trace.
“Sure.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Just completely coincidental that news is slipped to a reporter the same day I’m legally free of him.”
Zayn continues to remain silent. A lawyer tactic, I’m sure.
“You’re acquainted with the owner of Melbourne Daily, are you not?”
He folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes back at me. “Harvey West? Sure, he’s a past client.”
I pull on the string that was holding my robe closed and hop back onto the bench, making sure that my ample cleavage is on full display. Then I gather my hair and pull it over my shoulder so that it cascades down my front. Zayn’s eyes narrow further.
“Did you perhaps have an on-the-record chat with your pal, Harvey?”
I don’t care if Zayn dropped Daniel in the shit.
I’d heard he was suspended from his football club after he was arrested that night, anyway, but I know the club would be wanting to keep this all under wraps.
Bad publicity is bad publicity when it comes to football. I just want Zayn to be honest with me.
Besides, Daniel deserves whatever he has coming to him.
“You play dirty,” Zayn drawls, stepping toward me.
“I learnt from the best.”
He stops in front of me and runs his hands up my bare thighs, stopping just before he reaches my lace panties.
His gaze coasts slowly over my body. “Fine. I may have tipped off the press, but I told Daniel that day in my office if he hurt you I would end him in every way possible. That wasn’t retrospective.
He had already hurt you, so he was always going to pay the price for that, Gianna. ”
Daniel’s looking at up to twenty years’ jail time for all his charges against me and the young girls he took advantage of. Knowing Zayn, he won’t let Daniel get sentenced to a second less. I don’t think that’s justice enough for what he took from us, but it’s something I’ve come to terms with.
Zayn wraps my hair around his fist and rubs the strands between his fingers. “No one fucks with my wife.”
“I’m not your wife,” I remind him, gliding my hands up his chest and tipping my head back to look into his eyes.
“Semantics. You’ve been mine since we were sixteen.”
He kisses me then, sweet and slow. I still can’t believe this man is mine, and now I’m growing a tiny little human that will be half of me and half of him. He’s all I’ve wanted since I was sixteen years old, and now we finally get to live the life we dreamed of.
“But I guess it’s time we make it official,” he murmurs against my lips.
I pull away and look down between us where Zayn is holding open a black velvet box. The diamond inside is so huge it catches every single beam from the overhead downlights as my hands fly to my face.
“Oh my God, Zayn!” I scream, my hands shaking with all the overwhelming emotions of the day coming to a peak. I genuinely don’t think I can handle any more.
“Gianna Morello. It’s taken me nearly twelve years but I have wanted to do this from the very first moment I met you.” He tilts my chin up and looks into my eyes. In his, I see depthless love, and I know he sees the same in mine.
“Complete our little family,” he continues, placing a hand over the small of my stomach, “and marry me?”
I burst into tears and throw my arms around his neck. “Yes.”