22. Aria

Chapter 22

Aria

The last month has been a heady one for me and Franco. We didn't get to go on a honeymoon, but in a lot of ways, the past few have made up for all that, and we've made the most of it. We've been creating our dream home and life together, and it's been magical.

Although there are painters and builders around, it's relatively stress-free. The house is coming together and already reflects Franco's solid, warm, and outdoorsy nature with soft feminine touches that welcome people while remaining a safe and sacred place for us.

"I think I finally have the life that I've always dreamed of," I tell Franco as we lay on the chaise lounge in the solarium on one particularly beautiful fall day. The leaves on the trees outside are vibrating with red, gold and brown leaves. We watch as some fall from the branches and float to the ground. There's something so meditative about watching this cycle of life ending while knowing that it's just a prelude to a time of deep rest and then renewal. I hope our child has the same reverence for the beauty that surrounds us—the simple things.

"How do you think we raise good kids, do you suppose?" I ask Franco absentmindedly. He stirs, and I sense that he's thinking about the question. I am curled up next to him. My head is on his chest, and my fingers draw circles on his stomach. When I first started doing it, he said it felt like I was rubbing a dog's tummy, but now he gets mad when I don't do it.

"I don't know. I guess you take a little of your own upbringing and how your parents raised you and learn a little from others where you can, books, that kinda thing." He pauses. "My parents are great, but there are things that I wish had been different now that I'm going to be a dad."

"Like what?" I look up at him, and a slow smile crosses my face.

"What!?" He asks.

"It's the first time I've heard you refer to yourself as a dad," I say.

"Is that weird?"

"No. It's lovely and a little sexy," I reply and go back to staring out the window.

"Oh no, you don't!" he says and turns my head back up towards him. I know what he wants, and I am happy to oblige. He kisses me warmly and tenderly for a few minutes. His tongue probes my mouth, and his hungry mouth makes every cell in my body stand at attention. He finishes with a few slow, easy pecks to my top and bottom lips and then the top of my head.

We lay like that for a while, in the aftermath of a kiss that feels like the first.

"So, what is it that you wish had been different?" I remember the unanswered question.

"Don't get me wrong, I love my family and wouldn't trade them or this for anything..." He lingers.

"But..." I nudge.

"But... I can't help wondering what a life away from the business would have been like. What kind of man I would have been without all the death and violence that constantly lapped onto our doorstep. My parents tried their best to shield us from it, but once you've seen your favorite uncle gunned down while taking you for an ice cream, there's not much more that a kid can be protected from." My heart bleeds for him in that moment and fears for our child. Until this moment, my concern about raising them in this world was limited to fearing for their safety or that of Franco and me. I had forgotten the harsh truths about this world. The hushed conversations and continual low-humming anxiety that children pick up on so easily. The raised voices and threats that get casually thrown about in the belief that it's beyond their understanding. How they notice the subtlest change in staff or friends.

"What are you thinking?" he asks as he kisses the top of my head.

"Nothing and everything," I say by way of reply. "It's a lot to process, isn't it? A whole human life is going to be completely our responsibility, and no matter how hard we try or how much work we put in, we're never going to be able to foresee every hurt, pain or tragedy. Even the ones we will invariably inflict."

"Like?" he prods.

"We're going to try our best, but they'll still fall, scrape knees, be exposed to things that we never wanted them to be exposed to, get their heart broken." I sigh. "I guess that's why parents are the way they are. No matter how old their kids get, they're still parents." We both keep quiet. "I have a sudden need to call my folks," I say, and he laughs.

"Me too."

"I just hope our kid is nothing like me," I say.

"I love you. I hope our kid is exactly like you," he replies.

"Trust me, you don't!" I say, sitting up and pulling my legs underneath me to look at him. "I was a nightmare as a teenager," I say, smiling at the memory. "My parents say I made them old. I was a strong-willed, mouth kid who refused to be told, and I grew into a strong-willed, obstinate, headstrong teen who refused to be told."

He pulls me down toward him and whispers, "Yes, but you grew into a strong-willed, capable and headstrong woman who was just what this wild and untamable man needed."

"Awww babe..." I say as I move to kiss that sweet mouth.

A cleared throat behind us startles us both. It's Marco.

"Marco. Hi," I say, suddenly flustered and wondering how long he's been standing there.

"Hi, Aria." He comes toward me and kisses me on both cheeks. It's the first time he's been here and the first time that he seems almost kind and happy.

Franco is still stand-offish, and I have to nudge him to get up and greet his brother. He does, but not before pulling a face at me and making a show of having to get up.

I start to leave the room.

"I'll let you two talk," I say.

"No. Aria, please stay. I want to talk to both of you," he says, looking uncomfortable suddenly.

"Ok. Please sit down," I say, and we move towards the small mosaic table and chairs that sit in the corner. "Can I get you something to eat or drink? We have some wonderful crumb cake and apple pie from De Lucci's."

"That would be great with some coffee, Aria."

"Great, I'll be right back."

"Babe, let Louis bring it in," Franco says, but I nip out as fast as my bump will allow, which isn't very fast. So much for trying to make leaving the two of them alone together seem fated.

When I get back, Louis helps me carry in the pastries and coffee and sets the plates and cutlery down before swiftly leaving the room. It's clear after a few moments that neither of them has said a word. Morelli men! Please, Lord, don't let the baby have this pigheadedness!

"Thank you," Marco says to Louis's departing figure and then to me. I just smile. "I wanted to tell you two that I want us to start on a clean slate. I miss my family, my kid brother." He looks at Franco.

I elbow my husband in the side, but it's like a canary's wing slapping an elephant. He doesn't even wince, and I know enough not to push it.

"I'd love that too, Marco," I volunteer.

"I know I don't have the right to make demands on either of you given how I've behaved, but when I saw the two of you a few moments ago -what Franco's been telling me for all these months finally became clear- you two were made for each other. There's something that happens between the two of you when you're together, and no amount of ego, hurt, pride, or need to control can make me ignore it."

Franco shifts and finally looks at his brother but doesn't speak.

"What's the demand or request?" he asks. From his tone, I know that he's softening.

"I want you two to have a proper wedding. On me. Your dream wedding. If you're going to do this, do it the right way. Before God and all the world." He looks down. "It's a request but also an apology."

I am stunned, and I look at Franco. I know that he needs to take the lead on this and not do it for me or his brother but for himself and his family - the one he comes from and the one he's creating with me.

He sits back and folds his arms across his chest. Marco rolls his eyes and Franco smiles just a little.

"What?" I ask .

"He used to do this when we were kids, and I pissed him off but then needed his help or forgiveness." Marco huffs and leans back, squeezing the tip of his nose and smiling. "Go on. Let me have it!"

Franco furrows his brow.

"On one condition?" he finally says.

"What? Anything! You name it," Marco answers.

"I'm going to need a best man. You available?" I love Franco so much in that moment.

Marco sits back and nods, trying not to let the tears that are making his eyes glisten fall.

"Yeah. I'm available."

***

The next few months pass in a haze of finishing the decorating and planning the wedding. Marco has been amazing and sent a wedding planner to help me. Giulia's been a gem, and we've grown close over the last few months. She's an astute businesswoman and always willing to help or jump in when she thinks someone's trying to gouge me on prices.

She isn't overbearing, nor does she try to impose her taste on me, but because this is way out of my comfort zone, she will offer advice when prompted. She's always right. Franco would love to get married in Italy. Tuscany is his favorite city, and as a surprise, I've arranged for the wedding to be there and for his nonna to come over from Sicily to attend. He hasn't seen her since he was a teenager. He is her favorite, and she was an absolute delight when I called to ask her in my rusty Italian.

My only condition was that I have the baby first and have a few months to, hopefully, get a bride body. I rub my hand across my belly protectively. I'm huge, and I love it. I get tired a lot more often and can't work as hard as I'm used to, but I am so happy. I love it. Well, mostly!

I find myself wanting to be with Franco more and more. It's almost a compulsion. It seems to calm the baby and me when he's close by, but that might just be my imagination.

He comes up behind me as I survey the dimensions of the nursery.

"Are you ready?" he asks. We have a doctor's appointment.

"Yes. Look at this!" I tell him, pointing to the antique crib his mom had sent over.

"It's beautiful, but is it safe?"

"It's fine," I say, dragging him by the hand.

***

The obstetrician, Dr Lowenstein, moves the sonar across my gel-covered belly. Pushing gently at certain places and furrows his brow.

"Is something wrong, doctor?" Franco asks.

"Well, no." He starts to laugh. "This happens sometimes."

"What?" I ask.

"Well, it seems you two are going to have twins." He smiles.

"Twins!" Franco and I ask in unison.

"And you're just seeing this now!?" Franco asks.

"Well, it seems the second baby was hiding behind the first." He's delighted. "Like I said, it's rare, but it happens. Thankfully, both of them are healthy and developing nicely. However, this does complicate matters slightly."

"Complicate how?" Franco is instantly on high alert.

"Well, multiple births tend not to go to term. So you might go into labor sooner than your due date. You just need to pay attention to your body. Remember everything I've told you, and don't take any chances." He pauses. "Other than that, everything is wonderful. I'm happy."

"Thank you, doctor," I say. The news is still fresh, and I'm struggling with joy and panic. Two babies!

"This is wonderful news! Thank you, doctor." Franco is delirious with happiness. "Twins! Woohoo!" He lets out an excited whoop that startles me and makes the babies kick in agreement. I laugh as my panic dissipates in the face of his excitement. We'll be ok. He leans down and kisses me. "Thank you. Thank you. My love! Twins are a good omen. They bring luck and prosperity!"

Dr. Lowenstein laughs and closes his file.

"One last thing...would you like to know the sex?" he asks.

"You know?" I ask.

"Yes. I can make you a 3D video of the sonogram and print a few pictures if you want to start your babies' book. I only ask because it will be pretty obvious once you watch the tape." He grins, and I blush.

"Like father like sons." Franco blurts out proudly. My face reddens even more.

"You guessed it. Two healthy and blessed baby boys." Dr. Lowenstein grins. "I'll leave you to get dressed, and you can come through to my office if you have any follow-up questions?"

"No. I think we're fine, doctor. Thank you," I say, not wanting the moment to end.

"Two boys. The Morelli name will live on. My dad and brother will be so happy," Franco says. He doesn't miss the moment of sadness that his comment evokes as I think about my loser brother and my dad, who so badly wanted the Dilio name to survive him. Franco comes to sit beside me as I wipe the gel off my belly. He puts his arm around me.

"I've been thinking. What would you say to a double barrel surname?" He looks at me, and I stop as I register what he's saying.

"You mean, Dilio-Morelli?" He nods. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course."

I'm not able to contain my happiness, and the tears flow freely. He knows better than to try and stop it at this point. It's hormones and joy and he's learned to just ride with it.

***

Back home, he leads me up to our room, even though it's the middle of the day. I want him, and he wants me, but there's nothing we can or want to do to stop it.

He kisses me, and we slowly undress each other. The hunger and need for each other are still strong, and it's all either of us can do to keep our hands off each other. The bump makes it impossible for him to be on top of me, but we've been having a ball of a time finding wonderful new positions to satisfy our craving for each other. I lie on my side as he kneels behind me, creating a T with our bodies. His cock slides in and out of me in a slow but insistent rhythm until I'm practically screaming with the need to be pounded. He grinds into me and stays still, the entire length of him inside me, consuming me. He begins to slowly move his hips in circles, sending my body into orgasmic overdrive. He reaches for me as my final explosion and his first intersect, and he falls beside me, spent.

He kisses me tenderly and without ceasing and traces the outline of my face and upper body with his strong fingers. His eyes never leave mine, and we don't say a word.