Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

I shake my head even as he finally exerts the slightest effort, pushing against me. I’m using all my strength here, and he’s clearly not, but he easily frees his own arms.

“I’m happy to overpower you, if that’s what you’re looking for,” he informs me easily, holding onto my wrists, as if to see what I’ll do next.

“No, I’m gonna show you what a badass I am.”

“But you’re not.”

I go to dive at him again, but he keeps his hold on my arms, finally getting up. He rolls me over on my stomach and easily pins me down, crossing both hands behind my back, securing them with one of his. I try to pull them free, giving him a dirty look over my shoulder. “I watched YouTube videos! This isn’t how that was supposed to go.”

He rolls his eyes, effortlessly restraining my hands. “Adrian’s a good trainer, but he’s not a magician. Just find a new protector if I die. Please.”

“Our son can be my protector. I’m sure he’ll grow up to be a badass. It seems to be the Morelli way.”

“I’m still hoping this is a girl,” he informs me, releasing my hands and reclaiming his more comfortable position beside me on the bed. “I don’t like Cherie, but I’d take her over Vince any day.”

I roll out of my belly-down position and snuggle back up against his side. “Our babies will be their own people, not their genes. Rosalie isn’t a little Meg.”

Smirking, he says, “Yes, she is. She’s got Meg’s attitude.”

“Well, she’s three.”

“I want you to bond with Meg’s son, too. With me and Meg providing his genes, there may be a little too much calculation in him, and he’s my heir. Make sure he loves you.”

Recalling Meg’s bathroom confession, I nod soberly. “That’s a good point, actually. God, your family is so weird.”

“Our family,” he corrects me, dropping a kiss on the crown of my head. “And yes. Yes, they are.”

Chapter Thirty

Mia

Bella can’t stop grinning.

I had to go to the bridal shop to put a rush on all of our dresses. Since it’s a Saturday (and she’s a junior bridesmaid) Bella wanted to come with me.

After the dress shop I thought we’d grab some lunch. Well, my morning sickness decided to strike. When I emerged from the bathroom, wondering why I’ve always wanted to be pregnant when vomiting is so horrible, Bella stood there grinning.

We haven’t told the kids I’m pregnant yet. I don’t know what we’re waiting for—and in my more paranoid moments, I feel like I’d be more comfortable if we did tell them. Just for further verification that Mateo isn’t tricking me. I know he doesn’t want to make me stop loving him, but I also know he doesn’t want to risk me having a son by Vince. Normally in these circumstances, he finds an alternate path to getting his way. Not telling the girls (who would understandably get excited) about my pregnancy just gives more credibility to my paranoid fears.

Absurd, since I’ve spent my whole day adjusting wedding plans. I’m still going to marry the maniac, even half-expecting he’s plotting against me.

“I think you’re pregnant.”

I attempt a severe look. “I’m not at liberty to discuss this.”

“Is it a girl or a boy?”

“We don’t kno—oh, jeeze.”

Bella flashes me a look of victory, ripping her remaining breadstick in half. “Ha!”

“Your dad hasn’t given me the okay to announce this yet. No telling anyone else.”

“That’s why you moved up the wedding, huh?” she asks, smugly. “Dad doesn’t want anyone to know you’re pregnant before you got married.”

That is the logical reason—the reason people likely will assume. Of course he already has children with women he never married, but since I’m the one he’s obviously serious about, his more traditional relatives will probably think that’s why we’re rushing the wedding. Instead of a six month engagement, we are getting married in one month. It’s the only way my dress is still going to fit, and the only way I won’t be showing on the off chance Vince sees any of our wedding photos.

I didn’t think we’d be able to pull together a nice wedding in one month, but wouldn’t you know, all of our vendors are being incredibly cooperative. Mateo was still able to negotiate the theater he wanted for the ceremony, but since it’ll be a summer wedding now, he decided to just set up the reception in our own enormous back yard. I can’t imagine he’s happy about all those people coming to the house to set up, but I like the idea. I’m comfortable at home. It’s where every bit of our history has unfolded—what better place to marry him?

“No, we moved up the wedding because we really, really want to get married,” I inform her.

“My dress is going to be so pretty. You’re going to look like a princess in yours,” she informs me.