Page 73 of Wrong Place Perfect Time

“I just don’t want our baby born without a Mama and a Papa,” I reason, maybe overdoing my own version of the Italian accent a little.

Something I know Rocco dislikes but puts up with for my benefit.

Hey, if I don’t try and sound Italian, I’m never gonna pull off acting Italian, right?

But what I mistake is Rocco’s reaction to my accent is actually him thinking a little deeper.

He sits up suddenly, asking if he can use my phone. And before I know it, he’s dialed his father directly.

Not something most people could do. Especially these days.

Don Martinelli’s retirement has been put on hold, and with his wife Catriona, they’ve both returned to the business of making the family business legitimate again.

“Papa?” Rocco asks, then launches into an animated conversation in Italian with his father.

So much so that after fifteen minutes of listening to him, I can’t decide whether he’s mad, sad, or glad at the outcome of his call.

But when he hangs up, his smile tells me everything.

“Papa said he’s surprised it took us so long. They’ve all been waiting for the wedding. Especially Uncle Tony!” Rocco says in disbelief.

“He says you can wear Mama’s wedding dress. And there’s the jewelry too… There’s a ton of stuff like that from all the family. So you’ll just have to….”

He says but trails off.

Losing his steam as he watches my expression change.

“I don’t want any of that,” I tell him. “I just want it to be us and this little one, of course,” I add, looking up at him.

Suddenly feeling ill at the thought of his family, the one we were supposed to be escaping from, suddenly taking over our whole wedding.

Being honest with Rocco, I explain that it feels like they’ve already taken over our life anyway.

“Since they found out about you wanting to leave the life, I mean,” I murmur. “…It just feels like everything with your family now is about them pulling you back in with them,” I sniff, losing my cool.

I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional if the topic came up.

He goes quiet again, and I can’t read his expression.

His serious, no-bullshit face is impossible, but damn, it is sexy as hell.

“I wanted to leave the life, and I have,” he says finally, taking my hand in his, running his huge thumb over the equally huge diamond on my engagement ring.

“But family is family, and they’re all a bit like that, I’m afraid,” he shrugs. “We’ll be our own family, Jasmine. We already are. But mine will always be just the way they are, like it or not.”

“How about we have a little ceremony, just us? Just Mama and Papa,” he says, compromising already.

I roll my eyes at myself for letting my emotions get the best of me. I find myself nodding my head as I start to list more and more members of his family that we just couldn’t leave out.

“But I do want my own dress,” I caution him once we’ve made an exhausting list of guests for the wedding that’s already looking like it’ll be bigger than anything Rocco’s family could plan on their own.

“Us,” he promises me, putting his hand on my belly again.

“Us,” I repeat back to him, sniffing a little tear as he tells me the only thing that’ll ever matter.

“I love you, Jasmine. Love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you too, Rocco….”

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