Page 95 of Whatever You Need

My husband strolledacross the sand, balancing a platter of hot dogs and hamburgers in his hand. I rubbed my growing belly with my free hand while my one-year-old daughter played with her shovel and pail next to me.

Marco and I married in Italy a year after he proposed. We spent two weeks in a villa along the Amalfi Coast. It was a last-minute decision, one where it just felt right. I wanted the day to be focused on us and not everyone else. I didn’t want a big traditional wedding, or the stress of planning it all. I just wanted him to be my husband.

Our wedding consisted of just the two of us and the priest who performed the ceremony. I wore a white satin gown, and he wore a sharp, Italian gray suit, which I peeled off of him the second we said I do.

His family hadn’t been thrilled that we excluded them. Sophia gave us the cold shoulder for months. She didn’t start talking to us again until she found out she was going to be abisnonna. Marietta was just happy to see Marco happy.

My grandfather offered to throw a huge reception for us at his estate, but we chose a backyard barbecue in our own yard. Marco had a huge family and I didn’t want anyone to feel out of place.

“Dad, I’m hungry,” Gia, our four-year-old, wailed at his side.

“Here, baby.” I extended a bag of goldfish crackers out for her to snack on.

“Remember to save room for dinner,” he told her gently and set the platter down on the table.

Camilla reached her little arms out for her dad. He tucked her tightly against his side as she laced her hands around his neck. Whenever Marco was in the room, he was the only one she paid attention to.

“Daddy, I’ve got to pee.” Gia started hopping around. No matter how many times we’ve told her not to wait until the last minute, she never learned.

“Well, you still have your bathing suit on, and the water is still warm, just stay along the shore and do your business. The waves will do the rest,” he said, pointing out into the Atlantic.

We bought this ocean front property in Rehoboth Beach last year. It was the best decision we ever made. While our house in Philadelphia was perfect, we wanted a place to relax and spend time away from the city. I was thankful that we splurged on this property because our house in Philly was under construction again. We kept adding extra bedrooms because my husband kept knocking me up. Pretty soon we were going to run out of space to add on to. Our yard was only so big to build off of. Not to mention, I’m not sure our marriage would survive another construction project.

“I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch.

My eyes narrowed. “No.” I shook my head when I realized what it was. “I don’t want it. Take it back.”

He lifted my chin and kissed my temple. “Please, you promised me a boy, remember?”

“Do you want me to be fat forever?” I asked, looking down at my stomach. I was already four months pregnant with our third daughter.

He laughed. “You’re not fat.”

“Says the man who has to help me put my stockings on every morning before work.”

He set Camilla down and placed his hands on my hips. “I promise if this next one isn’t a boy, we can stop trying.”

“I’m not falling for that line. You say that after every child.”

Honestly, if I never felt another contraction again, I would be a happy woman.

“C’mon, all you have to do is give me another baby and let me handle the rest.”

When Gianna was born, Marco quit the force. The love for his job faded after he got shot. Besides from being sick of all the politics and drama, the demands of working overtime and being called out of bed in the middle of the night were wearing thin. We didn’t need the extra income and as long as that’s what he truly wanted, I supported his decision. Quinn offered him a part-time consulting job at his security firm. It allowed him the flexibility to work around my schedule. It’s been great having him home most of the time, and Marietta loved watching the girls when Marco got called out on a job.

“You do realize that we will already have three kids all under the age of five, right?”

“So, what’s one more? Besides, then we’ll be an even number. No one will feel like the odd man out.”

I held out my palm. “It depends, let me see the charm first.” Whenever he wanted another baby, I would get a charm for my bracelet. Marco started this little game when we found out I was pregnant with Gia. He didn’t even wait for me to pop her out of my belly before asking for another child. He always picked something he knew I wouldn’t say no to.

The first charm he gave me was a little miniature Chewbacca, which represented a trip to Disney that year with his family. I was impressed that he remembered that was my favorite Star Wars character. After Camilla was born, my second charm was a set of handcuffs. I laughed when I pulled that one out of the pouch. He arranged to have his mother watch the girls so we could take off to Aspen for a week. That was when baby number three was conceived.

He placed the little black pouch in my hands. I turned it upside down and a little puppy charm spilled into my palm. “You didn’t?”

He hoisted Camilla up on his hip and whistled to Gia, who was squatting along the shore, finishing up her business. “Come on,” he said as soon as our daughter reached us. We walked through the dunes, along the side of the house to the attached garage.

He pushed the door open slowly and the cutest little German shepherd came bounding toward us. Gia dropped to the ground and started squealing. Camilla clung to her dad’s shoulders, not sure what to make of the little guy.

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