Page 145 of Nine Months to Love
I shake my head, but I’m smiling. “Only you would spin my life’s biggest disaster into a compliment.”
“I’m just saying, you’re not some delicate flower who’s going to wilt next to Stefan’s big, scary presence. You’re a badass who built a clinic from scratch, fought off investors who wanted to exploit your patients, and told a literal mob boss to go fuck himself. Multiple times.”
“I never actually said those exact words. Well, at least, I don’t think I did.”
“Well, fine, but the sentiment was there.”
Signora Bellini returns with another plate, this time loaded with tiny pastries. “For you,bella. You must keep your strength.”
“Thank you, but I’m going to gain ten pounds just from this appointment.”
“Nonsense. You are eating for two now, yes?”
Camille grins. “See? Even the Italian dress lady says you should eat more chocolate.”
I grab a pastry just to make her happy. It’s filled with cream and dusted with powdered sugar, and it melts on my tongue.
“Okay, that’s amazing,” I admit.
“Everything in Italy is amazing. The food, the wine—well, not for you right now—the architecture, the men...”
I raise an eyebrow. “The men?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t notice Taras.”
Heat floods my face. “Taras is Stefan’s best friend. Also, he’s not Italian.”
“That doesn’t stop him from being incredibly hot. That accent, those shoulders... I nearly passed out.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m observant. And horny. There’s a difference.”
I laugh and take another sip of sparkling water. Around us, the boutique is quiet. Soft classical music plays from hidden speakers. The late afternoon sun streams through the windows, making the silk dresses on display shimmer.
“I can’t believe I’m getting married in four weeks,” I mumble.
“I can’t believe Stefan convinced you to do it that fast.”
“He’s very persuasive.”
Camille leans forward. “But seriously, Liv. Are you okay with the timeline? Because if you’re not, you can tell him no. He’ll listen. If you won’t, I will.”
“I know he will. But I don’t want to wait, either. I want to be his wife. I want us to be a family before the baby comes.”
She nods like that settles it. “Then I’m happy for you. Even if your fiancé terrifies me.”
“He’s not that scary.”
“He literally had armed guards escort us to a dress shop, Liv.”
“That’s just practical security.”
“‘Practical security.’ Listen to yourself. You’re already talking like a mob wife.”
I throw a piece of marzipan at her. She catches it and pops it in her mouth, grinning.
Signora Bellini clears her throat. “So,signorina, this dress? You will take it, yes?”
