He sighed into the phone. “I’m never having a kid, so we don’t need to worry about that.”
“Whatever. I need to do this. I know you can handle it.” I hung up before he could rip into me again.
We sat in the back seat of the car and headed to Florence where we would do our shopping. We were buying everything we might possibly need, and we had a separate car that would hold all our things.
I wore my black leather jacket with a green shirt underneath. Spring had arrived, but it was still cold as winter overshadowed the new season.
Siena was cozy in her jeans, an olive jacket with a fur hood, and a blue scarf. Tan boots were on her feet. Her distended belly was enormous now, and she constantly rubbed it like she could feel Martina move deep inside. She sighed every so often, like she was breathing through the distress.
There was nothing I could do for her at this point. No amount of back rubs or foot rubs would take away the discomfort she felt every single moment. She peed several times during the night and had morning sickness when she first woke up. Sex had become less appealing to her.
Which sucked for me.
I grabbed her hand and held it on my thigh, doing the only thing I possibly could in that moment. Affection was all I had to offer.
She rested her head against the back of the seat and sighed. “I loved being pregnant through most of this. But now I just can’t wait for her to come out.”
“You’ve done a great job, baby. You made it look easy.”
“Liar.” She smiled at me. “But thanks for saying it anyway.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I reached for it to check the message. I grabbed my pack of cigars by mistake and put them back before I retrieved my phone. It was a message from Bates, a quick question about the numbers. He should be in the meeting right now, so he probably hoped for a fast response. I typed back my answer right away.
Siena lifted her head and stared at my pocket. “Cato, do you smoke a lot?”
“No, not a lot.”
“When do you smoke?”
“Mainly at work. Sometimes in my office.”
“Well, you can’t do that anymore.”
No one ever told me what to do, so I gave her an incredulous look. “I don’t smoke around you, and I always give my suit to Giovanni the second I get home. I’m not exposing you to it.”
“That’s not why, and you know it.” She shot me that fierce expression, a warning of a bloody war. “Martina needs you to live as long as possible. Smoking cuts down your life expectancy by ten years. I understand why that wasn’t important to you a year ago, but things are different now.”
“I don’t smoke cigarettes. I only smoke cigars for—”
“A cigar is the equivalent of seven cigarettes. Don’t try to fool me, Cato. You aren’t as smart as you think you are.”
We hadn’t had a fight like this in a long time. The last few months had been spent in comfort. Like most couples, we had a routine. I went to work, came home, we had dinner, and then we went to bed and had sex. It sounded boring, but it was actually very comfortable. It was a lot more fulfilling then heading to the bars and clubs like I used to.
“Promise me you’ll never smoke again.”
“For the rest of my life?” I asked incredulously.
“Yep.”
“I only smoke once a week—”
“If you smoke so little, then it should be no problem to stop altogether.” Blood lust was in her eyes, the same expression I wore when I manipulated my clients into agreeing to my outrageous terms. She wouldn’t settle or negotiate. She made her demands, and I could meet them—or face the consequences.
“Baby, I appreciate what you’re trying to do—”
“Cigars or sex. Pick.”
Did she just give me an ultimatum? “You’re being—”
“I’m serious, Cato. I love you too much to watch you slowly kill yourself. Smoking is the number one cause of premature death in the world.”
When she tossed her love for me into the mix, I was blindsided. She hadn’t mentioned her feelings for me in several months, and then she dropped them when I least expected it. It always made me lose my footing. It made me feel good and terrible at the exact same time.
“No more.” She snatched the cigars out of my pocket and threw them on the floor. “Promise me.” She stared into my face until she heard the words she desired. She knew I wasn’t the kind of man to make a promise I couldn’t keep, so my word was good enough.
If she were someone else, I wouldn’t comply out of principle. If we weren’t having a daughter in a month, I probably wouldn’t care about giving her what she wanted. But I wanted to be around as long as possible so I could always take care of Martina—and Siena. So, for the first time in my life, I folded. “I promise.”