Chapter Twenty Three
Mia
“Do you think this is the one?”
Sighing miserably, I stare at my reflection. All the right pieces and parts are there—I’m wearing a gorgeous white dress fit for a princess, it’s prettier than anything I ever imagined wearing, but I can’t quite pull the trigger. “I don’t know. Honestly, I still love all five of them.”
“Why don’t you get a ceremony gown and a reception gown?” Meg suggests, pushing out of her seat and walking over to the platform I’m standing on. Running her fingers down the huge, embellished skirt of the ball gown, she adds, “Like, this would be amazing for the ceremony. But it’s a little heavy for the reception.”
“That’s so greedy,” I say.
“Who cares?” she replies. “That trumpet one you like would be really great for the reception. It makes your body look ridiculous. Like, whoa.”
Covering my face with my hands, I say, “I just don’t know. I have to make this decision today. The dress should’ve been ordered already.”
Francesca stands now, approaching the consultant and lightly touching her elbow. “Get her a veil.”
The consultant nods and heads off to do her bidding. Francesca approaches, looking at me and smiling softly.
“You’re overthinking it, Mia,” she tells me.
“Mateo likes things to be perfect,” I reply.
“My brother thinks the woman in the dress is perfect, and that’s all that matters. He’s going to think you look absolutely stunning in any of these. You do look stunning in all of these.”
Meg nods her agreement. “You are annoyingly pretty.”
“Want me to send pictures to Sal and see which one he likes best?” Francesca offers.
I glance over to see if she’s kidding. “No.”
Pointing back toward the door, Meg asks, “Want me to go out and drag Adrian in here? Maybe a male perspective will help sell you.”
“Adrian doesn’t have opinions about dresses,” I tell her. “I’ve tried to show them off for him before; the best I get is a grunt or a gruff nod.”
“Do you want us to hold them all up around you and you can close your eyes, spin around in a circle, and point to one at random?” Meg suggests.
Thankfully, before she can talk me into that, the consultant comes over with a long veil. There’s a big, optimistic smile on her face. She turns me away from the mirror to put the veil on and Francesca helps her arrange it around my back. It’s really long. I haven’t even looked at veils yet, and the idea of having another task exhausts me. But then Francesca smiles at me, holding onto my shoulders and rotating me until I’m facing the mirror.
And there it is.
It is my dress.
It’s exactly what I want to look like when I walk down the aisle and see Mateo waiting for me at the other end. Somehow the veil turned a pretty white dress into my wedding gown, and now I look like a bride. Mateo’s bride. I didn’t expect to turn emotional, but all of a sudden I’m hit by the sting of tears, staring at my reflection, imagining the day I marry Mateo. The unattainable man of my dreams is mine to have and to hold for the rest of my life. I may not be his first love, I may not even be his first fiancée, but I’m the only woman he’s ever given the honor of becoming his wife.
Mrs. Mateo Morelli.
“She’s crying,” Meg states.
Francesca grins. “That’s a good thing, in this setting.”
“I’m so happy,” I blubber.
“Aw.” Francesca laughs a little, leaning her head on my shoulder and giving me a hug. “I told you we’d find the dress today.”
I sniffle, dabbing at my eyes to keep from ruining my make-up. Suddenly the weight of this wedding doesn’t feel so immense. I don’t care if we booked the wrong venue. I don’t care if I pick the wrong dress and wear the wrong shoes. I got it right with the only thing that matters—the groom.
---
Sighing contentedly, I let my hand travel along the muscular plane of Mateo’s back as he rests on top of me. He’s still inside me, and I absolutely love when he’s inside me. I don’t even care if he’s done fucking me; he can just live there.
I wrinkle up my nose as he lifts off of me and pulls out of my body.
Smiling faintly, he says, “What’s that look for?”
“I wanted you to stay.”
“I promise I’ll visit again soon.”
I watch him scoot to the edge of the bed and climb off, walking into the bathroom. I love the sight of his bare ass. I love the sight of his whole body. Regretfully, I pull myself out of bed and take a quick turn in the bathroom myself, but I’m feeling extra needy tonight and I just want to be back in his arms.
He doesn’t mind. He likes that I need him. I used to think maybe I was too soft for him, especially once he met Meg and she seemed so much better equipped to handle him. Turns out, no. He returns to my softness, no matter how many times he tries not to.
Wrapped up in his strong arms, I tilt my head back to look at him. “I found my dress today.”
“Good,” he says, dropping a kiss on my lips and lingering, kissing the corner of my mouth, moving along my jawline. I let my eyes drift closed as I smile, enjoying his affection.
“Did you pick out your tux?”
“I did. It’s a lot easier for men.”
“You mean it didn’t take you 5,000 shopping trips and an emotional outburst?”
Chuckling against my jawline, he lowers his kisses, moving his lips to my neck now. “Strange, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never seen you cry,” I realize. “Do you cry?”
Mateo pulls back long enough to roll his eyes at me. “Not over clothing.”
“I can’t even picture what that would look like,” I say, still on the crying thing.
“There’s no reason you should ever know.”
“Have you ever cried before? You can tell me. You can even do it in front of me. I promise I’ll always think you’re a total badass, no matter what.”
Now he brings his index finger to my mouth, indicating I should be quiet. In case I still don’t get it, he adds, “Shh.”
Since it’s right there and I’m feeling a little ornery, I open my mouth wide enough to move over his finger and lower my head, closing my lips around his finger and sucking on it.
Mateo groans. “You’re not going to let me get any sleep tonight, are you?”
I slide my mouth down the length of his finger, then release it. “By all means, if you’d rather sleep than fuck me, we can cuddle.”
“There’s nothing I’d rather do than fuck you. I’d rather fuck you than breathe,” he informs me, tugging me close. “Holding you is a close second.”
My arms are already around him, so I give him a little squeeze, then I peer up at him. “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to choose? We have at least 50 more years of this in store for us.”
“You might, I probably don’t,” he says lightly.
I scowl. “Don’t joke about that. You have to live forever.”
“That’s right. I just remembered I am immortal; it shouldn’t be an issue.”
“I knew it,” I murmur, brushing my lips against his pectoral muscle.
“Wait ‘til I show you my sea of souls. We’ll ride through in a gondola.”
“Is that our secret honeymoon? You’re going to show me your digs in the underworld?”
“Obviously.”
“As long as you can make me immortal with you, I’m game.”
Dropping a kiss on the crown of my head, he says, “You’re probably too good to get in.”
I shake my head, because he’s crazy. He’s so corrupt that he still thinks I’m good, and it’s absolutely adorable. “I’m pretty sure I can just drop your name and they’ll make an exception.”
He pulls back to look down at me, catching my hand in his and twining our fingers together. “Do you want to know where the honeymoon is, or do you want it to be a surprise?”
I pause, considering. “Hm. You can surprise me. I’m betting there’s a beach involved.”
His lips curve upward. “Possibly.”
I smile, snuggling up to him again. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
Lightly mocking, he asks, “Because it will be so different from our relationship now?”
“My name will,” I offer. “I’ve felt like a Morelli for so long. It’s about damn time you make an honest woman out of me.”
His grin gets lost in my neck as he gives me more kisses, then rolls on top of me, nudging my legs apart. “Does that mean you’re finally making an honest man out of me?”
I laugh, burying my face in the pillow. “I think you might need the Pope for a job like that. I may be good by your standards, but I’m not that good.”
He laughs lowly and grabs my hips, lifting them and positioning himself between my legs. “That’s okay. You’re perfect, as far as I’m concerned.”
The only perfect I care about being is perfect for him. As he pushes inside me, he’s home, right where he belongs, and when he fists his hand in my hair and replaces his tenderness with brutality, I welcome it. Because I’m perfect for him.
---
Peas.
I push them around my dinner plate, helplessly grimacing. I don’t know why they’re so disgusting tonight. I don’t know why the thought of them turns my stomach. I don’t know why I suddenly feel ill.
I can’t spit them out, can I? That would be rude. Oh, my god, they’re so… they’re not even terrible, just the feel of them squishing around in my mouth, the flavor of them on my tongue—I’m going to be sick.
I shove back from the table, covering my mouth, and run for the bathroom.
After that awful, gross couple of minutes, I push the bathroom door open and find both Mateo and Meg waiting outside for me. Mateo’s hands are shoved into his pockets and he’s appraising me, a mild look of concern on his face. Meg looks more like she wishes she would’ve brought popcorn.
Since being sick isn’t terribly glamorous, I duck my head. “Sorry about that.”
“Are you okay?” Mateo asks.
I nod my head. “Yeah, I feel totally fine now. Maybe I’m catching that stomach bug that was going around Bella’s school.”
“The one that reacts poorly to random dinner foods and causes your breasts to be sore?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“You didn’t want me to touch them last night in bed.”
I blink again, sliding my gaze over to Meg. She rubs her protruding stomach pointedly and my heart drops.
“Oh, my god.” First it makes me feel like I just dropped ten stories, but excitement is right on its heels, because she’s right. I haven’t had a period in… I don’t know. Why don’t I keep better track of this stuff? “Oh, my god.” I look to Mateo now, but he doesn’t look as excited as I want him to.
He’s right; I need to bring it down a notch. I need to take a pregnancy test first. If I get myself all worked up and convinced I’m pregnant, I’ll be a sobbing mess if I’m not.
I feel a little like sobbing now, which is weird.
I can’t keep from hugging him anyway, just in case. It takes a few seconds longer than I expect for his arms to move around my waist. My head is spinning with the possibilities. An image of my very own little Morelli baby kicking at me with a toothless grin and a white onesie pops up in my mind, and I nearly melt.
I want to take a pregnancy test right now. Meg said a long time ago you’re supposed to take them in the morning, but I don’t want to wait.
Pulling back to look at Mateo, I ask, “Can you send someone for a pregnancy test?”
“No need,” Meg says brightly. “I have a spare in the medicine cabinet.” Pointing to her tummy again, she says, “I bought the two-pack. Made more economical sense.” Then, glancing at Mateo’s face, still lacking any excitement, she points down the hall. “I’m gonna go get that right now and give you two a minute alone.”
His arms are still around me, but the hold isn’t tight. I pull back just a bit, looking at his tie instead of his face and running my hands down his lapels. “Why aren’t you excited? Don’t you want to have a baby with me?”
His response sounds measured. “I do want to have a baby with you.”
“You were a lot happier than this when Meg got pregnant,” I state, still avoiding his gaze. “Both times.”
One of his hands drops from around my waist and he catches one of the hands playing with his suit, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss on my knuckles. He doesn’t say anything though, so the tender gesture only serves to further unsettle me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly.
“When was your last period?”
I shake my head, trying to think. I don’t know dates. I don’t keep track of that, but I try to remember the last time in terms of what was happening. “Before the Bahamas,” I finally say.
His gaze sharpens. “Right before, a week or so before, long before?”
“I can’t remember. I remember being relieved that it would be over before our trip. Honestly, I’m surprised you don’t keep track of this stuff,” I say lightly, poking him in the chest.
“Well, I would’ve, but I wasn’t supposed to get you pregnant.” That’s reasonable, I guess. He’s not looking at me, he’s lost in own thoughts, his eyes sharp. There’s no point talking to him when he’s like this, so I just wait.
Maybe he got me pregnant in the Bahamas. While he was not supposed to get me pregnant prior to his break-up with Meg, periodically he gave me chances anyway. Usually just one night here or there where he would skip a condom, but since the Bahamas was my birthday trip, he brought no condoms. And we were in a tropical paradise with hardly any clothes ever on our bodies; we had lots of sex.
We also had unprotected sex the night we came home and he was supposed to go to Meg, but he wanted more of me.
I do a little figuring of my own. Man, that would mean I’m already two months pregnant. Holy shit. My hand leaves his chest, moving down to rest on my still-flat belly. I can’t help smiling.
I’m going to be a mommy.
“Man, I wish Meg would hurry up with that pregnancy test. I’m afraid to get too excited. Maybe I’m not pregnant and I’m just dying or something.”
Oh, shit. The wedding!
I gasp when the realization hits me. Mateo meets my gaze, almost expectant. He must’ve thought of it, too. “I’m not going to fit into my dress.”
He frowns. Then it clears and he sighs, but wraps his arm around me and pulls me close, dropping a kiss on top of my head.
Meg comes back with the test. I grab it and run back into the bathroom. I fiddle with the directions, but I’m so full of nervous excitement that I can’t focus on anything. I probably don’t need to read them. You pee on the stick and wait however long—not terribly complex.
So I do. And I wait. But I barely have to wait any time at all, because in less than a minute, the second line starts to show up.
Oh my god.
I grin helplessly. My heart taps out a celebratory drumbeat in my chest. Should I keep waiting until the two minutes are up? Could the line disappear? It probably isn’t going to disappear. I’m tossing my cookies at dinner, and Mateo is totally right, my breasts have been sore. Last night’s the first time I told him, because they were just so tender and I couldn’t pretend otherwise, but I’d felt it before. I just didn’t know that was a symptom, seeing as how I’ve never been pregnant before.
But I am.
Life could not get any better than it is right now.
I, the future Mrs. Mateo Morelli, am pregnant.