Page 76 of There Are No Words

I brought a finger to my lips, trailing the area where his arousal had just been. “Yes, actually, but we’ll call that dessert.”

He squirted shampoo in his hand. “Have I told you how perfect you are? I’m pretty sure you were made for me.”

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of hearing him say that. I smiled and turned on my heel, not wanting to ruin the moment. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

* * *

Brady

Breakfast with Allegra.This was the first breakfast we were having since I’d claimed her as mine. So screw what I’d just saidand erase it from your mind because I was having breakfast withmy girl. After she’d just licked my fingers clean in the bathroom, I’d say she was my good girl.

I rolled up my shirtsleeves as I made my way down the hallway and into the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks, though, when I heard Allegra talking. At first, I thought she was on the phone, but her voice was low, almost whisper-like, and she spoke with such joy and happiness. “If you’re anything like your mommy, you’re going to love carbs. Mmm,” she moaned before continuing. “And I’ll introduce you to all the best ones. Like French baguettes. There’s nothing in this whole world like them.

“Actually, my mom, your nonna. . .” She paused again before explaining, “That’s grandma, by the way. I’ll teach you some Italian so you know the basics and can understand your nonno when he curses in Italian under his breath. Which he does a lot, by the way. Usually when your Aunt Bibi does something naughty. You won’t do anything naughty, though. Well, you might, but let’s try to keep it to a minimum, okay?

“Anyway, I was saying, my mom loved carbs, too. She worked out like a warrior because of it, but she loved them just the same.”

And she went on. . . .

I didn’t want to interrupt her, though, so I just stayed there, listening to Allegra as she spoke to our daughter. My heart swelled every time I thought about her actually being here, after we brought her home from the hospital. It was true, I hadn’t been sure I was cut out to be a father. Seriously, where the hell was the guidebook? But lately, I’d been beginning to think that as long as I had Allegra and our daughter, it didn’t matter. They’d teach me everything I needed to know. I just needed to pay attention.

When Allegra finally stopped talking, I cleared my throat to announce myself, then walked the rest of the way into thekitchen. I was grinning like a goddamn fool. I didn’t think it was possible to care about two people more than I cared about Allegra and our unborn child.

She looked up and took a bite of her roll, peeling it from her mouth when she saw me, her eyes widening. “Okay, I know we were technically supposed to eat together, but—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I would’ve done the same. Fresh ham is a serious temptation.”

She smiled. “No. You’re a serious temptation.”

“You’re as hungry for my cock as I am for those tits of yours.” I pointed to her chest, loving the way her cheeks grew pink from my openness. “Which are getting bigger, by the way.”

She looked down and smiled. “It’s because I’m having a girl. They say you carry more baby weight when you’re pregnant with a girl. I don’t know why that is, but I read it somewhere.”

I shook my head and took the seat opposite her. “I don’t care why it is. All I care about is that I get to hold them in my hands the way I did last night.”

Pushing the plate of rolls toward me, she cleared her throat and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I think we should talk.”

She wanted to talk? We talked all the time, but when someone said they wanted to talk, now that was when you went on high alert. Which was exactly the case with me. My back went rigid and my jaw twitched. Why did she want to talk? What was so important that she needed to preface with that?

But I didn’t get to respond because she opened her mouth to start talking again and I didn’t want to cut her off before she even got a word out. It was probably a good thing, though, because I wasn’t sure what to say other thanwhat the hell do we have to talk about?

Then, she said, “I think we should get charted.”

Charted?

Racking my brain. . . .

Still thinking. . . .

Yeah, no. I came up empty-handed. I didn’t have the slightest clue what she was talking about.

I rested my elbow on the table and clasped my hands together. “Come again,” I finally said.

She giggled. Clearly she found my lack of knowledge on “getting charted” (whatever that meant) funny.Noted.“It’s a synastry chart that couples get done to show their compatibility and gain insights. An astrologer does it.”

“And you want us to get one?” I furrowed my brows. I didn’t hate the idea. Honestly, I didn’t care one way or another. If she wanted some chart to tell us what I already knew, then I’d get it done. “I already know we’re compatible, but if you want some piece of paper to tell you what the planets say about us, then I’m game.”

She perked up, her brows practically shooting up to her hairline. “Really?”

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