“He doesn’t know,” Adrian says, shaking his head. “He didn’t have that kind of dad, Mia. You know what his dad was like. If Mateo was sick, either he cleaned it up himself or called a maid. I know it seems like common sense, but he wasn’t raised that way. If his mother ever came to his aid when he was sick, he was probably too young to even remember.”
Goddammit, there goes my attitude, melting into a puddle of love.
We are all such enablers.
Sighing heavily, I nod. “Fine, I won’t hold it against him that he has four children and one on the way and somehow still doesn’t think it’s his job to clean up after them when they’re sick.”
He pats me on the shoulder. “There you go.”
I head back to my logic-monster. He must be able to tell I’m done helping because this time he stands.
Draping an arm across my shoulder as he falls into step beside me, he says, “I take it Scrabble has been rescheduled for another night?”
“It has. And I don’t think we can survive a whole weekend here without Adrian. Now that I know how high the stakes are, we should practice a lot on our own to make sure we beat them.”
Rocking his head slightly left, then right, he appears unconvinced. “I have a lot of better things to do with my time than play Scrabble.”
“Name one.”
“You,” he says, easily.
“Maybe three months ago,” I state, placing a hand on my belly. I’ve never experienced this level of hugeness before; I am not a fan.
At least here he knows what to do. His arm drops from my shoulder and he grabs my ass. “Sexiest pregnant woman ever.”
I flash him a smile, blushing with pleasure. “You’re a lying liar, but I love you for that one.”
“You love me for lots of them,” he reminds me, smiling faintly as he wraps his arm around my non-existent waist. “When we get back to the bedroom, I’ll give you hard evidence this one is a truth, though.”
I lean into him. “Oh, hard evidence, huh? I wonder what that will be.”
He leans close and stage whispers, “My cock.”
Elbowing him in the side, I bite back a grin. “I know. You couldn’t tell I was joking?”
His eyebrows rise and fall. “Look, I don’t want to insult you, but you did put your cell phone in the refrigerator the other day.”
My eyes widen in self-defense. “Pregnancy brain is real! The little Morelli logic-monster in my womb is sucking all the brain cells out of my head. We’re lucky I remember how to walk at this point.”
“That one probably won’t be a logic-monster,” he says dismissively. “It’s half you and half Vince; neither of you are excessively logical. He’ll be hot-blooded through and through.”
“For the millionth time, genes are not everything. Nature is important, sure, but so is nurture. For example, since apparently Morelli men are not born understanding that they are responsible for taking care of their sick kids, if we raise them that way, guess what? Our sons will know that regardless of how many maids live under the roof, regardless of how big and bad they are, when their baby throws up? They help the mom take care of business.”
Mateo sighs. “We’re back to this, huh?”
“It’s part of being parents. This is the sort of stuff that makes us Dominic’s parents—not his genes, not the stupid biological contributions—this stuff. Us being there for him and taking care of him and loving him. These are the things that make us his parents. You should have had all this stuff and it makes me want to spit on your dad’s grave that you didn’t, but that doesn’t mean our children shouldn’t. We can do better for them than anyone did for you.”
“If it is this important to you, I will help you clean up baby vomit.”
I beam and give his torso a squeeze. “Thank you.”
“I won’t be excited about it,” he warns me.
“I will be excessively grateful for the sacrifice,” I assure him. “So many sexual favors will be coming your way.”
“That’s every day.”
“True,” I acknowledge. “I need to start fucking you less so I have something to bargain with.”
“Now that is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” he informs me.
“I don’t think I could stick to my guns,” I admit.
He smirks. “I’d never allow it.”
“We’ll have to come up with something else.”
“How about you just ask?” he suggests.
That does seem to work. I don’t say so, but going over the list in my head, there isn’t a whole lot Mateo has denied me. That’s good. I want to teach him to be a better parent—not that he’s bad or anything, but there is some room for improvement. He’ll catch on. It’s going to be different this time, becoming a parent. The first go-round he had Beth, who by all accounts was incredibly self-centered. The second go was with Meg, and in addition to being accustomed to parenting on her own, he also had a relationship with me, so he wasn’t fully invested.