Ren had told her to drink another melon soda, and promised she’d feel better in an hour. An incredulous laugh bubbled from her as she shook her head. “You—begging Ren? That must have hurt.”
Antonio snorted. “You have no idea.” His grin faded. “But not nearly as badly as it hurt to think of losing you.” His dark eyes seared hers. “I love you, Hana.”
Her heart was pounding. They were still standing in the middle of the crossing. They had to move. She knew they had to move. But she couldn’t. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake.
They heard loud honks from the approaching cars.
“Hey, that’s my pregnant wife you’re honking at!” Antonio yelled at the cars, who really did have the right of way. Taking her hand, he gently pulled her to the sidewalk on the other side.
His hand tightened on hers as he faced her on the crowded sidewalk. His gaze searched hers beneath the moving lights of the electronic billboards. “I love you,” he repeated. He leaned his forehead against hers as he murmured, “Am I too late?”
Shaking her head, Hana drew back, smiling. “It’s never too late.” Lifting her hand, she placed it on his scratchy cheek. “Because I’ll never stop loving you.”
She heard his intake of breath. Pulling her into his arms, Antonio lowered his head to hers. His kiss was passionate, gentle and hot at once, promising forever.
Then Hana felt it again. The strange, sharp pain around her abdomen. Just like she’d read about. This wasn’t Braxton-Hicks. She wrenched away.
“Antonio—” she panted.
“I can hardly wait to get you to my hotel,” he said seductively, cupping her cheek. “Tonight, I’ll show you how much I love you. Now and forever...”
Looking down, she gasped, “All that’s going to have to wait.”
He pulled back with a frown. “Why?”
Hana looked up, her expression in shock. “Because my water just broke!”
* * *
The cherry trees were newly in bloom when they returned to Tokyo in late March for Ren and Emika’s wedding.
It had been a joyful day, full of love and laughter, tradition and cake. As they left the reception, Antonio held his wife’s hand as he pushed their baby daughter’s stroller. His heart was full of joy. Everywhere he looked, cherry flowers were popping like popcorn on trees, pink-and-white petals trailing in the soft spring breeze like confetti.
“Where are you taking me?” Hana asked him for the tenth time.
“It’s a surprise,” he told her, also for the tenth.
“Back to the plane, to take us home to Madrid?”
“No.”
She blinked, then tilted her head. “To New York, then,” she guessed. “So I can help you get a better deal this time.”
She never let him forget how he’d gotten hosed in the union deal he’d made without her. A mistake he’d never been stupid enough to make again. From now on, they were partners all the way. At work. And at home. Smiling, he shook his head.
“Where?” she begged.
He grinned. “Come with me.”
As he led her down the Tokyo street, Antonio’s shoulders became a little straighter. He was filled with pride to have his wife on his arm, and pushing his baby daughter in the stroller. At five months old, Josie was already grabbing her own feet, and clearly a prodigy.
Her birth hadn’t been easy. After twenty hours of labor, she’d been born finally by cesarean section in a Tokyo hospital. Every time Antonio remembered that night, he was awed by his wife’s power and strength. Afterward, he’d wanted to shower her with jewels, but she’d told him his love was the only gift she ever wanted. “It’s yours forever,” he’d breathed, his eyes suspiciously wet.
A week later, they’d taken their baby, named Josie after his mother, back to the nursery waiting at their palacio in Madrid. Soon afterward, his mother had gotten a chance to meet her namesake. They had photos of their baby being held tenderly in her grandmother’s lap, which would always be among their most precious possessions.
Antonio had wanted his mother to come live in the palacio, where he could oversee her care. But Josune had refused. “Etxetarri is my home,” she’d told him in her softly wheezing voice. “I never want to leave it.” But her hand had reached helplessly toward her son.
And so, with Hana’s blessing, the Delacruz family had set up housekeeping in the seaside village. They’d rented a cottage just down the cliff from the hospice, and spent time with his mother every day, reading stories aloud, playing cards, just sitting quietly. Antonio had been with her when she’d peacefully died a few weeks later, surrounded by her family, and with a loving smile on her lips.