Deep (Pagano Family #4)(93)

He was only gone a minute or two, and when he was back, he had a small box in his hand. He came into the kitchen and led her out to sit on her sofa. She loved this white sofa. Without it, she might not have been sitting here with Nick Pagano on his knee in front of her.

“I’ll say it in Italian, since you like it so much when I do. Bella, con te voglio passare la mia vita. Sei tutto ciò che voglio. Il mio cuore è solo tua. Sei il mio sole. Sposami.”

Italian was so pretty. She didn’t know most of the words—though she heard the one about being his sunshine many times and loved that above all—but she knew what he’d said was beautiful.

He opened the box. Inside were two rings. The band of the engagement ring was delicately ornate, slender twists of rose gold rather than a solid band. Tiny diamonds were scattered around it. A large diamond solitaire in a tall setting dominated the center, and around it, in a separate setting, a ring of small diamonds. Like a halo around a bright sun. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The wedding band seated next to it was a similarly delicate band of diamonds.

She looked up and met his eyes. “Si is yes, right?”

He grinned. “Si.”

“Then I won’t say yes. I’ll say si. Si, si, si. Ti amo.”



oOo



Much later, they lay naked and sweaty in her bed. With her head pillowed on his broad chest, Bev listened to the steadying thrum of his heart and let herself drift. He was playing with her new ring, his fingers caressing hers around it.

“I want kids with you, bella. But if you do, there’s something you should know.”

She stopped drifting. She thought she’d even stopped breathing.

“I’m not an only child. Not really. I had an older sister and a younger brother. They both died on the days they were born. From the same thing. Anencephaly.”

Bev rose up onto her elbow. “Oh my God, your poor parents. Your poor mother! Anencephaly…that means—”

“Their brains didn’t develop. It nearly destroyed my mother, especially after my little brother died. It f*cked my parents’ marriage up for a long time. I knew more about that than a kid should, because my father told me once when he was weepy and drunk that my mother wouldn’t sleep with him anymore. Ma is devout, and they didn’t use birth control. She knew she wouldn’t survive it happening a third time, so she turned him out of her bed. He kept a comare for the rest of his life.”

“Are you saying it’s genetic? That could happen to us, too? But you’re okay.”

“I am. I’ve done some research. It’s not supposed to be genetic. Everything I read says that it’s very rare that it happens at all. That it happened a second time to my mother is unheard of. But I don’t know. Maybe it is genetic, and they just don’t have a test for it yet. You should know that before we decide to have kids.”

Bev lay back down on his chest, and he began to caress her arm, making long sweeps up and down with his big hand. “Whatever you decide, bella.”

She thought. He wanted children. They could make a family. But what would she do if she lost a child in such a way?

That was borrowed trouble, though. What she knew was that he was a strong, smart, big, gorgeous, physically perfect man who loved her. They would be married. And the odds were bright that they would make a perfect family. If she was wrong, then that was a trouble for then.

“I want children. A house full. And I want a house. I want a garden. What do you want?”

“To make you happy.”

She rose back up on her elbow. “No—stop that. What do you want?”

He grinned and rolled over, putting her on her back beneath him. “I want as many children as you can pop out. I want to watch you be a mother, and I want to lift children I made with you onto my shoulder and show them the world. I honestly don’t care where we live, as long as it’s in or near the Cove and I’m not surrounded by pink walls and lacy cushions. I’d like a style compromise. If you want a garden, that’s great. I want a cellar with a screening room and a pool table. I like pool. Actually—I do care where we live. I want to be close to the beach. I like to watch the water.”

“Oh. Wow.” He was describing a perfect life. “What about religion?”

“Catholic. Baptized. Not negotiable.”

She knew that one, and it didn’t matter to her. From her point of view, Catholicism seemed as cultural as it was spiritual, and asking Nick to let his children not be Catholic would be tantamount to asking him to let them not be Italian. She wasn’t deeply invested in any particular way of expressing her own faith, so she wouldn’t mind if their children expressed his.

There was one cultural marker that did scare her and might be a deal-breaker on the parenting front. It seemed strange to bring it up now, when he was lying on top of her and she could feel his erection pressing into her skin, but he’d started the conversation.

She was going to make him angry, though. There was a good chance.

“I don’t…I wouldn’t…” She sighed and started over. “I’d have trouble if our sons…” She couldn’t say it, so she gave up. Closing her eyes, she ducked her head against his shoulder.

But he knew where she’d been going. “I would never have married an Italian woman. Do you know why? This is a question you can ask about my business.”