Page 77 of Giorgio

“Excellent.” He drew her into his arms, his hands splayed over her distended stomach. The feel of his son moving against his hand always had an emotional effect on him and it was no different now.

They had decided on the name: Matteo – the middle names – Jack Alfredo after both their dad’s, much to the delight of both Julian and Alfredo. “I adore you.” He told her hoarsely. “In case I neglected to tell you this morning.”

“You didn’t.” She leaned into him, inhaling his subtly expensive cologne. “You never do.”

“And I never will.” He cradled her against his chest and felt the thickness in his throat. Living with her as her husband was something he could never get tired of. It had felt strange that he had someone in his personal space at first, but he loved the scent of her perfume, the sight of her clothes hanging inside his closet.

She was conscientious about putting away her things and no matter how he teased her and remind her that they had a full household of staff to cater to them, she still did it out of habit.

The staff loved her, and she did not try and interrupt the running of the household. They consulted her about every little thing, and she knew their names.

His father did not think of her as his daughter-in-law, but rather as a daughter and they would have dinner around the informal dining table, with laughter wafting through the room. She had brought joy and light to the household and made such a difference in the short time she was here that it astounded them.

But most of all, she had changed his life for the better. He no longer had the urge to seek for pleasure in endless rounds of parties or in the arms of various women. His joy was found in one woman, and he was satisfied.

She appealed to him on so many levels, he could scarcely comprehend it. Now he realized what his father had been trying to communicate to him over the years. He would rather spend a year with his wife than fifty years with someone else. She completed him. Later that night, he showed her how much.

*****

Their son was born on a brilliantly sunny day in June, without much fuss and a surprisingly short labor. Her brother had flown in for the birth and was staying a few weeks. He had been a constant visitor to the country. His romance with Charlene had blossomed and they were talking about marriage.

Juliana and her son were discharged after a few days and hovered around by the proud dad, grandfather, and uncle.

“You must be exhausted.” Her husband murmured as he came into the light airy nursery. Stepping behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist as he stared at his son.

The baby was sleeping, fingers closed in tight fists and resting on either side of his ink black head of hair. He showed early signs of favoring his handsome papa and was a stunningly adorable baby. Juliana could scarcely believe he was hers.

“Not really.” She leaned into him and closed her eyes briefly. “I am a mother and a wife.”

Her husband turned her to face him, cradling her face between his palms. “And I am a husband and a father. You made that happen. And there is nothing – barring none, that I wouldn’t do for you.” Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to their bedroom and held her against him, until they both drifted off.

The end… but wait: