Page 66 of Irreplaceable

I swallowed hard, feeling as if I’d been caught. But before I could answer, a waiter joined us. He introduced himself and told us about the specials. Enzo started speaking in Italian to ask questions and give him our order.

“Mi scusi,” I interrupted. “Per cortesia, potresti rimuovere la gorgonzola dall’insalata?”

The waiter seemed surprised to hear me speaking Italian but quickly recovered himself. “Sì, naturalmente.”

“Grazie.”

Enzo finished ordering, and then we were alone once more.

“I thought you liked gorgonzola,” he said.

“I do, but I’m supposed to avoid soft cheeses while I’m pregnant.”

He nodded. “Anything else you can’t have?”

I sipped my water. “Sushi. Uncooked or raw meats, alcohol. And a few other things.”

“Anything you’ve been craving?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “For a few weeks, I was desperate for cinnamon rolls. And not just any cinnamon roll, but one I was picturing in my head.”

He frowned. “You should avoid sugar. It’s not good for the body, and I’m sure it’s not good for the baby.”

My blood simmered. What did he think gave him the right to tell me what to do? “Since when are you a doctor?”

“Studies on processed sugar have shown the harmful effects on the body.”

“Enzo,” I said, not caring if it were true. Which, in all likelihood, it was. But that wasn’t the point. “This isn’t up for discussion. I’m not giving up sugar.”

“Okay. Okay.” He held up his hands and said nothing more.

The waiter returned with some bread, and I immediately dug in. Yum. It was as delicious as I’d hoped. Buttery and rich and fluffy, and… I slowed down, realizing Enzo was staring at me as if I were a rabid animal.

“I’m sorry if I bit your head off,” I said as the waiter returned with our first course. I was feeling less stabby now. “I’m super hungry.”

Enzo leaned in, his breath grazing my ear as he said, “At least it wasn’t my other head. Though I do love it when you graze my skin with your teeth.”

I nearly choked on my water.

“How does everything look?” the waiter asked.

“Delicious,” Enzo replied, but he was still staring at me when he said it. And I felt like he was a wolf eyeing its dinner. It was secretly thrilling.

“Do you know if we’re having a boy or a girl?” he asked when we were alone once more.

The way he’d phrased it gave me pause—we’re. It was something so simple, but he was already showing me that he saw this baby as ours. Not just my child or my responsibility, but ours.

I shook my head and cut into my food, my mouth watering at the sight. “I won’t find out until my sixteen-week appointment.”

“When is that?” he asked.

“In about two weeks.”

“I was asking more about the actual date and time of the appointment. I’d like to go with you.” He paused. “If that’s okay.”

“I—yeah.” I returned my attention to the meal. “Of course. It’s on my calendar, so I’ll let you know.”

He cut into one of the dishes and took a bite. “This is phenomenal. Here—” He held a piece to my lips. “You have to taste this.”

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