Without seeming to think about it, he turned sideways, dropping his feet over the arm of the couch and-shockingly-his head into her lap. He tugged at his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons in an effort to get more comfortable and then turned to face the TV.
“What are we watching?”
The “we” undid her, and she allowed the tension to leave her body at this unexpected turn of events. Her hands, which had been hovering in midair as she tried to figure out where to place them, dropped-one to his hair and the other to his shoulder.
“Uh . . .” She stared blankly at the screen as the high-resolution space marines argued among themselves. “Aliens.”
“Oh, I know that one,” he muttered, his voice sounding slurred. “What was that thing she said? ‘Stay away from her, bitch’?”
“Philistine,” she said with a long-suffering sigh, her hand starting to run soothingly through his hair. “You got that quote all wrong.”
He twisted his head to meet her eyes with his smiling gaze.
“S?? What is it then?”
“You’ll see. Now be quiet and watch.”
Half an hour later, after pilfering half of her popcorn, criticizing a few of the choices some of the characters had made, and wondering why they didn’t just leave someone on the “big ship” to wait for everybody, his big body went completely limp. A quick glance down confirmed that he’d fallen asleep. Cleo smiled, feeling an overwhelming surge of affection for him. She had never expected to like Dante Damaso, and yet she did. He had wormed his way into her good graces, and she wasn’t exactly sure how.
The logical part of her brain told her to keep him at a distance, that feeling anything more than fondness for him would lead to pain and possible heartbreak. He wasn’t the type of man one could play house with. He was like a wild animal who seemed to do better without any sentimental emotion bogging him down. Cleo and this baby were momentary blips in his lifestyle, and maybe it was the novelty of the situation that drew him. She couldn’t allow herself to depend on him. Not in any emotional sense. He would keep his word when it came to supporting the child, but if she thought he could feel anything deeper than what he’d promised already, she would be fooling only herself.
But it was so hard to remember all of that when he was sprawled out on her lap like this.
She continued to run her hand through his thick, soft hair. He had a dense growth of stubble on his jaw, and she tentatively ran her palm over it, loving the burn of it on her skin. She was so riveted by the feel of him under her hand that at first the fluttering in her abdomen went unnoticed. But when it came again, she recognized that it wasn’t just a tummy rumble or the popcorn unsettling her stomach. A third, faint movement had her gasping and sitting up straighter.
Her movement woke Dante, who looked at her in alarm.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly alert. “Are you okay?”
“I think the baby’s moving,” she whispered, keeping her voice low as if she were afraid a loud noise would scare the baby and stop the movement.
“He is? You’re sure?”
“Yes! Oh God, there he goes again.” Dante sat up and stared at the small bump fixedly. Cleo blindly reached for his hand and placed it where she’d felt the movement. His hand was so large that it just about covered the entire expanse of her stomach. “Oh. Did you feel that?”
“No.” He shook his head, looking frustrated.
“It’s very faint. Maybe you can’t feel it yet.”
“Is he still moving?”
She paused for a moment before shaking her head.
“No, I think he’s stopped.” He looked so disappointed that she covered the hand he still had on her stomach with her own.
“I’ll let you know the moment he starts up again,” she promised, and he nodded briskly. She moved her hand, and he was just about to remove his when the gentle flutter returned. This time he felt it, and his eyes shot up to meet hers.
“Christ!” he gasped.
“Language, Dante,” she warned, tears in her eyes and excitement in her voice. “There’s a kid in the room.”
“Sorry,” he whispered, before leaning down until his mouth was within an inch of her stomach. “Sorry, peque?o, don’t you listen to your daddy’s bad language, okay?”
Almost simultaneously, they both comprehended that he’d used the word daddy, and Dante froze, his eyes leaping up to meet hers. Cleo wasn’t sure how to respond. What did it mean, him naming himself father to the child? How active did he now expect his role in this child’s life to be?
“How does it feel?” he asked, changing the subject but keeping his hand firmly anchored on her stomach. “To have him move around like that? Does it hurt?”
“It feels strange. A little bit like indigestion. Not painful or anything, just like a tiny tummy rumble. I wasn’t even sure what it was at first.”
“It’s amazing,” he said, his tone brimming with awe and discovery. He stared down at her stomach again, obviously hoping the baby would move some more.
“I think he’s done for the night,” she said gently, and his eyes shadowed with disappointment.
“Thank you for sharing this with me, dulzura,” he said as he reluctantly lifted his hand from her abdomen. She smiled and refocused on the movie that had been running unheeded while they had marveled over the miraculous life they’d created together.
He once again lifted his feet to the coffee table and folded his arms over his chest, keeping contact between them limited to occasional accidental brushes.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.