Page 59 of The Baby His Secretary Carries

“You know that I’m at a higher risk to have the same complication with a future pregnancy?” Her brow angled into worry.

“Is that what you took from what I just said?Bella, we can find our own surrogate. We can adopt. That is a discussion for a year from now, when you’re fully recovered and want to think about children. I was asking if you still love me. I want to say it to you, but—” He closed his eyes, hardly able to breathe, he stood on such a high precipice.

He knew he had to step off and trust that she would catch him. He knew that’s how it was done. He knew shewouldcatch him, but,mio Dio, it was hard.

“Gio,” she whispered. Her hand came to his cheek.

“No. Shh. Let me do this,” he urged her softly. “I can.”

He opened his eyes and saw such a glow in her expression, it brought tears to his eyes and a swelling elation into his chest.

“I love you, Molly. I don’t want you to go home with your mother. I want you to come home with me. I want you to be my wife and make a family with me however we can. I want you to be beside me for as long as we both shall live.”

Her mouth trembled and tears flooded into her eyes. “I want that, too,” she choked. “I love you so much.”

How could something so hard be so easy in the end? He brought her hand back to his chest and gently, gently brought them into full contact so he could feel every curve and muscle and twitch and sigh. He covered her mouth with a hungry kiss and dragged her an inch closer, being careful, so very careful, because she was infinitely precious to him.

She was his heart. He understood that, now. But that was okay, because he was hers.

Two hours later, Molly woke cotton-headed from her nap. Gio was still holding her.

“Did you sleep?” she asked as she stretched and winced.

“No. But I didn’t want to disturb you. It was nice to hold you again. I missed you.” He rolled onto his back, moving with enviable lack of discomfort.

“I missed you, too.” She was touched that he was so unabashed in saying it. Even so, she experienced a stab of shyness and asked, “Did I dream that we’re in love and getting married or...?”

His mouth kicked sideways. “If it was a dream, I would like to make it real.” He fished into his trouser pocket and brought out Nonna’s ring. “Let’s hope three times is the charm. Will you marry me, Molly?”

“Yes!” Here came the tears again, but they were happy ones.

After a dab of hand cream, the ring went on and they went out to tell her mother and Libby.

Patricia gave her a heartfelt hug, but Libby, being on the verge of twelve and still stung by all the secrets that had been kept from her, asked skeptically, “Do you mean it this time?”

“We do,” Molly insisted, and tucked her hand into Gio’s.

“All right, then.” Libby hugged her, then hugged Gio. “You don’t mind if I come live with you guys, right?”

“I’m sure your mother would mind, but I would not,” Gio said with good humor, then he winked at Patricia. “Why don’t we visit my grandfather before you fly home, so you’ll know where to find her if she runs away?”

They married at Nonno’s villa that December, when Libby was off school for Christmas holidays.

It was a beautiful, intimate ceremony with only Otto, her mother and sister, Sasha and Rafael, and the sweet and mighty Atticus. He had been out of hospital more than a month and Molly saw him as frequently as she could. He was still small, but he ate nonstop and had a terrifically demanding cry, one that cut off with comical abruptness when Libby gathered him into her arms.

“Do you remember me?” Libby asked him with quiet joy. “I’m your sister.” She leaned close and whispered, “I’m also kind of your aunt.”

They had confided the surrogacy arrangement to Otto, so he knew Molly was only a few months postpartum, but he still gently chided Molly. “When will you give me one of those?”

Her doctor had pronounced her fully healed from the surgery, but suggested she wait a little longer before attempting pregnancy, to give any potential baby its best chance for success.

She didn’t mind waiting. She had a passionate husband who tumbled her to the bed in his jet when they left the villa for their honeymoon in Australia.

“We have twenty-something hours in the air,” he informed her. “I intend to take advantage of you for every one of those hours.”

“Show me.”

He did, stripping her without ceremony. They knew each other very well now and flagrantly ran their hands over each other, enticing and caressing, trying to see who would break first.

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