Page 28 of Franco
I'm pregnant with Franco Salvatore's child.
It wasn't planned. Especially since we both agreed that our unusual family structure was working well as it was. Franco stepped into the role of Tommy's father figure with a dedication that still amazes me, but we've never discussed having a child of our own.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway makes my heart race. Franco's home. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. In three years together, I've learned that Franco values directness. No point in dancing around the subject or trying to create some elaborate reveal. Just tell him straight.
The front door opens, and I hear Tommy's excited greeting, followed by Franco's deeper voice responding. Their ritual of Tommy recounting his day's adventures while Franco listens with complete focus is something I never tire of witnessing.
I step into the hallway, and my breath catches the way it still does whenever I see him. At forty-three, Franco has only grown more handsome. The gray at his temples has spread slightly, giving him a distinguished look that suits him. He's still imposingly fit, his body maintaining the hard-earned strength of a man who can never afford to be physically vulnerable. But hiseyes, those dark, intense eyes that once revealed nothing, now soften visibly when they land on me.
"Sarah," he says, just my name, but in that voice that makes me want to rub my thighs together.
"Hi," I reply, aware of how inadequate the greeting is given what I need to tell him. "How was your day?"
Franco tilts his head slightly, a gesture I've come to recognize means he's assessing, analyzing. He can read me too well now; he knows something's up.
"Routine," he answers, which could mean anything from actual paperwork to something I'm better off not knowing about.
Franco has kept his promise to keep his work life separate from our family, though I know he still serves as Dante's right hand. The Veneziano organization has grown more legitimate in recent years, with Dante's wife Elena steering many operations toward legal businesses, but I'm not naive enough to believe it's all above board.
"Tommy, why don't you go finish that homework?" Franco suggests, his eyes never leaving my face. "I need to talk to your mom for a minute."
Tommy, perceptive as always, looks between us before nodding. "Okay. But we're still going to the game, right?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Franco assures him. "I want to see that fastball in action."
Once Tommy's upstairs, Franco moves closer, his expression concerned. "What's wrong?"
I take a deep breath. Direct. Simple. "I'm pregnant."
Franco goes completely still, the way he does when processing unexpected information. His face reveals nothing, which mighthave frightened me three years ago but now I recognize it as his default response to surprise.
"You're pregnant," he repeats.
"Yes. About six weeks, I think. I've taken three tests." I pull the last one from my pocket, holding it out as evidence. "All positive."
Franco takes the test from me, looking down at the two pink lines as if they might contain encoded messages. When he looks back up, I still can't read his expression.
"This wasn't planned," I continue, words spilling out to fill his silence. "I know we never talked about having more children. I know Tommy is enough for you, and our life is good as it is. I'm not even sure how it happened. I mean, I know… But..." I trail off, uncertain what else to say.
Franco sets the test on the hallway table. Then he does something I don't expect. He kneels before me, one knee on the ground, his large hands coming to rest gently on my still-flat stomach.
"A baby," he says, and finally there's emotion in his voice—wonder, amazement, a hint of vulnerability I rarely hear.
"Yes," I whisper, hope beginning to bloom in my chest. "Our baby."
He looks up at me, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes my breath away. "I never thought..." he begins, then stops, seeming to struggle with words. "I never expected to have a family at all. Tommy was already a miracle I didn't deserve. And now..." His hands press gently against my abdomen. "Another child."
Relief floods through me, making my knees weak. I drop down to his level, taking his face between my hands. "You're happy about this?"
"Happy doesn't begin to cover it," he says, and there's a roughness to his voice that tells me he's fighting powerful emotions. "Terrified. Amazed. Grateful." His hands move to cup my face. "Are you? Happy?"
I nod, tears filling my eyes. "Yes. I was just worried you wouldn't want—"
"Everything," he interrupts. "I want everything with you. Everything you're willing to give me." He presses his forehead to mine. "A family. My family. Something I never thought I'd have."
I kiss him then, pouring all my relief and joy into it. When we part, he helps me to my feet with the same care he's shown me since we met.
"Does Tommy know?" he asks.
