Page 138 of Nine Months to Love
I laugh through my tears. “You’re an idiot.”
“Your idiot now.”
He kisses me again. Around us, the candles flicker. The garden glows. And for this one perfect moment, there’s nothing else in the world but us.
41
STEFAN
I wake before Olivia. The weight of the ring is no longer an anchor in my pocket, but after days of touching it constantly and feeling it around the clock, the ghost of it is still there.
So is the edge of it, actually. It’s digging into my shirtless torso just slightly, since Olivia has her hand tucked between us where she’s curled up at my side. Through the shutters, a teasing beam of Tuscan sun is lighting up the diamond. I watch it sparkle for a long while, this tangible proof that she said yes.
That she chose me.
It’d be easy to let the fear of what this means consume me. Her yes is my newest vulnerability. A soft spot outside of me that any enemy could plunge a knife into. I do feel that fear; I’d be a fool to say I didn’t. But when I look down at her and smile, I feel none of it.
All I feel is certainty.
She must hear my thoughts, because she stirs awake. Her lashes flutter against her cheeks before her eyes open. Amber withflecks of gold. The first thing I see every morning now, the first thing I’ll see every morning for the rest of my life. And somehow, it never gets old.
“Morning,” she murmurs.
“Morning, Mrs. Safonov.”
Her smile is sleepy and radiant. “Not yet, Mr. Impatient.”
“Soon, though.”
“Mmmm.” She stretches, arching her back like a cat. The sheet slips down and I’m treated to the sight of her bare skin, the curve of her breast, the gentle swell of her stomach.
My hand finds that swell, fingers spreading across it possessively. “We should talk about the wedding,” I say.
She props herself up on one elbow. “Now?”
“Why not now?”
“Because I’m still half-asleep and you’re looking at me like you want to skip the talking part entirely.”
She’s not wrong. But this is important.
“I want to get married before the baby comes,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen. “That’s only a few months away.”
“I know.”
“Stefan, planning a wedding takes time. There’s the venue, the flowers, the dress, the guests?—”
“We don’t need a big wedding. Just us. Our closest people. Something simple.”
She sits up fully now, pulling the sheet with her. “You want a small wedding? You? Of all people?”
“I want you to be my wife. Everything else is details.”
A laugh bubbles out of her. “You make it sound so easy.”
“That’s because it is easy. We pick a date. We say our vows. Boom, we’re married.”
