Page 135 of Last Comes Fate

“Of course not,” I said as I combed out my hair in front of the full-length mirror set up next to our shared closet.

The room was small for the two of us. A guestroom we were using while our primary suite downstairs was being finished. I didn’t mind. I was used to cozy enclaves, and considering I had been sleeping at the top of a staircase until about nine months ago, this was still pretty damn luxurious to me.

Plus, I sort of liked cuddling up together every night. I had no plans to stop once we were back in a king-size bed.

“She disappeared about an hour before we left. You didn’t notice?”

Xavi looked down his long nose at me in a way that said both “you ridiculous woman” and “I love you to pieces” at the same time. It was one of my favorite expressions.

“Considering I spent most of my evening eating far too much of your grandmother’s pasta and trying to stop your brother from making jokes about punching me again, I can’t say I noticed when one of your four sisters left a crowd of two hundred.”

“Fifty-five, maybe, but I see your point,” I said as I turned back to the mirror. “And I don’t think my siblings will ever get over that joke, so you’d better get used to it.”

“They’d better get used to me,” Xavier mumbled as he went back to his menus. “Bloody prat.”

I smiled to myself. While I doubted that Matthew and Xavier were ever going to be best friends, a grudging respect had grown between the two after the story of our last months in London had gotten around. The fact that Xavier had essentially given up an entire dukedom to raise his kids near my family definitely earned him a bunch of points. Likewise, the insults that Xavier accorded my brother had been downgrading steadily. Calling Matthew a “bloody prat” was practically asking him out for beers in Xavier-speak.

So maybe they weren’t bosom buddies yet. But I had faith.

A pair of arms wrapped around my waist as Xavier’s chin appeared over my shoulder in the mirror’s reflection. His hands curved over my stomach, which was roughly the size of a basketball pressing through the fabric of my nightie.

“Sometimes I think you willneverbe as beautiful as you look right now,” Xavier murmured before nipping lightly at my ear. “But the next day, you blow me away all over again.”

I purred like a kitten as his big hands rubbed over my bump, then slid up to cup my breasts, which were full and increasingly tender. Every inch of my skin was set alight when Xavier touched me.

He said the same thing nearly every day as my pregnancy progressed, and miraculously, it seemed like he meant it. As I’d started to show, I’d worried that Xavier might be repelled by my changing body—a true hardship given the fact that my increased libido showed no signs of letting up. But every day, this beautiful man found ways to show me how desired I was, how treasured in his eyes. We took the concept of choice seriously in our house—and every day, we both chose each other.

I drifted my hands over his forearms, wrapping my ribcage, reveling in the muscles that somehow managed to be powerful and graceful at the same time. I trailed a finger over the whirling designs over his left wrist, then threaded my fingers with his and leaned back into his chest, content to rest there for a moment, looking at the two of us—no,threeof us here together.

We had circled around and around for weeks when it came to names, especially now that we knew we had to be prepared with two options.

“What about Masumi or Henry?” I’d offered at first, but that was quickly batted away.

“Let sleeping dogs lie,” Xavier had said. “My parents made enough trouble in their own lives. I’d rather let them rest now.”

There was one person he wanted to honor, however—the only other person who had ever loved Xavier for exactly who he was, no questions asked, no expectations, no other requirements.

In the end, Lucia or Luciano had meant the same thing as their namesake, Lucy: light. That was what she had been to Xavier. And that was what we were to each other now.

At first, I’d been sad when the radiologist told us he thought the first 3D ultrasounds had been read incorrectly. I’d really believed I was having a little boy. I’d imagined the way he’d look—button-nosed and blue-eyed like his sister and father, but maybe with slightly darker skin and a bow-shaped mouth like mine. Sofia was a tiny thing, but I thought maybe her brother would be tall like their dad. And loved by both of us for anything he wanted to be. So, so loved.

But standing there, I realized it didn’t matter whether the baby was a boy or a girl, what features they might have from either of us. The last part of my dreams were never going to change. This treasure would be adored just like their sister. We’d worship this little creature with everything we had. Give them everything we could.

I imagined myself their parent, holding the baby, cooing to their face, kissing their dimples. And I smiled because it was going to happen, no matter what. It really felt like ourfamilywas going to happen no matter what. We were meant to meet that night in the bar. I was meant to have Xavier’s baby, just like he was meant to run into me years later. No matter how many times we tried to stay apart, fate kept throwing us back together.

Just like it had again with this little one inside me.

“Babe.Babe.” Xavier’s fingers guided my face back up to meet his, those blue eyes sparking with curiosity and love. “I know that look, Ces. What book are you living in now?”

My smile widened. My husband knew me well. But he didn’t know this.

“Just me.”

I pulled him down for a kiss. Then another. And another and another until Xavier’s grin lit up the room and his growl stirred my deepest desires.

“Just Francesca Zola Parker,” I said against his lips, sighing with more contentment than I ever thought possible. “My story has such a happy ending, it’s the only one I need.”

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THE END

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