“Okay,” I say finally. “Open your eyes.”
Her eyelids flutter open. I watch her look down at the crib as her jaw falls open.
“What’s this?” she asks with a gentle smile.
“Our baby’s crib. I built it.” I walk over to it and run a hand down the top railing. “It’s something my grandpa did for me. I wanted to do it for my baby. Our baby.”
I glance over my shoulder. Eva has a tear running down her cheek, a subtle but obvious display of emotion.
“You built this,” she whispers, “for our baby.”
Her hand touches her stomach. My own feelings get caught in my throat as I watch the protective gesture. I swallow them down and nod my head.
“I did.”
“Roman …” She takes two steps toward me, craning her neck up as she watches me intently. “This”—she looks back at the crib— “is … I don’t even have words for it. It’s … perfect. I can’t believe you did this already. When did you start? I’m only ten weeks pregnant.”
I shrug my shoulders, realizing I acted slightly irrationally by building it so soon. It’s just a gesture I thought would show her just how much I wanted our family.
“I started the day after you got home from the hospital. When you were napping.”
She throws her head back in an uninhibited laugh. “Roman Bertini. You are insane! You upped and decided to hand-build a crib only days after you found out about the baby?”
My smile fades as I close the distance between us. I reach out and run my fingers through her hair softly, moving some of it out of her face.
The teasing fades, replaced by a charge that hums in the silence. I can feel the anticipation radiating off her. I know she wants me to do more. I feel it.
I should say something. Tell her I love her. I want her and the baby to live here with me. To get married. To be a real family. But the fear keeps me from risking it all again.
“I’m hungry,” I say, and the disappointment is written all over her face. “What do you want to eat for dinner?”
She takes a step back, and I miss the warmth her presence creates.
“Oh, um, I’m not picky. What are you in the mood for?”
“You’re the one who needs the carbs and energy.” I lead her out of the room, angry at myself for not being able to speak the words that she needs to hear. “Speaking of, how are you feeling now? Poker again before dinner gets here, or do you just want to rest?”
She sighs. “If we don’t play, I won’t make it to dinner.”
I chuckle at how she exaggerates her body movements, like she’s about to power down right here in the kitchen. “Poker it is.”
I’ve come to love our nights together. We play card games, mainly poker, where she has proven to me that she’s not one to underestimate in anything.
“Go sit at the table. I’ll order some food. You’ll be tucked into bed in no time.”
“First,” she declares, “pajamas.”
She marches into my bedroom, where I have made room in my drawers and closet for some of her clothes.
That’s it. I’m going to tell her. Not tonight. Soon. I need to figure out a good way to say it. I need to know I’m saying it right so she doesn’t doubt me.
She’s been my obsession since the moment I laid eyes on her. Now, I need to make her mine forever.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Eva
It’s the weekend which gives me a much-needed break from the craziness of work. I’m back to putting concepts together for Paris. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, yet none of it compares to what I have when I get home.