“Ravello, on the Amalfi Coast.”
Rachel drew a quick, shallow breath, feeling far too many emotions, not the least being regret. “Were we going to take Michael?”
“No. Not on our honeymoon. I wanted time alone with you, my bride, my wife, my heart.” He reached for her and drew her toward him, little by little, step by step, ignoring her resistance.
Or maybe it was because she didn’t resist very much.
Rachel was exhausted. It had been a roller coaster of a day, up and down, and down and down, and even though she didn’t want to care for him, she did. Her love wasn’t a flimsy thing, but strong and deep and true.
“You have hurt me so much today,” she whispered as he pulled her against him. She rested her cheek on his chest, his arm tight around her.
“I am sorry. I didn’t want to bring those letters to you before the wedding, but how could I share them with you after?” He stroked her hair, and then down her back. “That would have been even worse. And so even though the timing was awful, I did what I thought was right. Shared with you everything I knew.”
“Even though it meant ruining our day.”
“I’d rather we ruin a day than start our marriage with a lie.”
Rachel closed her eyes and breathed him in, needing his arms right now, and his warmth. She needed him and loved him, for better or worse. “And what would you do with me on our honeymoon?”
“I would make love to you three or four times a day. I would love you until you felt secure and understood that you’re the only woman I have ever wanted to marry. I did not marry you out of obligation or to satisfy the international stock market.”
She tipped her head back to look up at him. His bright blue eyes glinted with tenderness and humor.
“It’s true,” he added, his expression changing, the laughter giving way to a focused intensity. “I married you, bella, because I love you. And just in case you need to hear it again, Rachel, bella, ti amo. I love you. I love you. Do you understand?”
Her heart was beating a mile a minute. “I think so.”
“You’re not convinced?”
“Not entirely. Not yet.”
“What else can I do?”
She touched her tongue to her upper lip, dampening it. “Take me on that honeymoon?”
He grinned, and then his grin faded and he kissed her, a long, searing, bone-melting kiss. “We leave tomorrow,” he said. “And we’d better sort out our birth control, or you’ll be pregnant before you know it.”
EPILOGUE
One year later
IT WAS LATE March and their first anniversary was just a week away. They were scheduled to leave for Ravello in two days to celebrate their first anniversary in style and enjoy a second honeymoon, something both Rachel and Gio were very much looking forward to.
But nothing was going to plan.
Again.
Instead of packing for their seaside villa in Ravello and anticipating their luxurious getaway in the glorious Italian sun, they were zipping along in the Marcello speedboat, heading to the hospital with Rachel tightly, frantically gripping Gio’s hand.
She hurt. And she was scared. “He’s coming too early,” she gasped, as another swift, hard contraction hit.
Gio just held her hand until the contraction subsided. “We’re almost to the hospital,” he said quietly, leaning over to kiss her. “It won’t be long now.”
“But what is his hurry?” she cried, looking up into Gio’s blue eyes. “He had another month to just hang out and relax. That was all he had to do, too.”
Gio’s lips quirked, and yet his touch was gentle and calming as he stroked her hair back from her damp brow. “I think he’s eager to meet everybody and begin playing with his big brother.”
“Well, he should have consulted me about his plans, because I’m not ready.” Rachel gulped in another breath of air. “But just like a Marcello, he does what he wants an