But I just shake my head, burying my face against his chest, wrapping my fists in the fabric of his shirt and trying to find the words, trying to figure it out – how to tell him this – how to break it to him – how not to ruin everything –“Bambi, please,” he begs, his voice breaking as he folds his
“Well, what’s really different?” he asks, looking at me seriously as he heaves a simple shrug.I gape at him, suddenly worried that he…misunderstood.But something about this just makes him laugh. “Seriously, Iris, I thought you were running out here to let me know they’d…found us or something.”Dre
The rest of my pregnancy passes happily, with about as much trouble as the first two months gave me. Which is to say…not very much at all.“I get the feeling I’m being rude,” I murmur, drifting my hand over my very-pregnant stomach and glancing out over the vineyard, which has come so far in the pas
“Come on,” he says, tugging me in towards the house. “Let’s feed you, get you off your feet.” I smile up at him and nod, letting him lead me inside, but I take a last glance out over the gorgeous vineyard that has become our home in the past few months, my heart filling with joy to see it.As soon a
Frankie sighs, betraying his inner anxiety even beyond his jokes. “I don’t like that,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Seriously, Bambs, I wish you’d reconsider and let me take you to the city to wait it out – have little Franquette in a hospital, where you’ll be safe.”“This child,” I say, putting d
Seven hours later, I’m all exhausted and sweaty, leaning up against the headboard of the bed and reaching for my little baby boy as the midwife wraps him up and leans down to place him in my arms.“Seven hours from start to finish,” she says, shaking her head at me and then up at Frankie, who stands
“Seriously, Frank,” I say, my voice insistent, not letting him make a joke to get out of it. “Are you…how are you feeling?”“I feel,” he says, smiling a little and raising his eyes to me. “Proud of my son, and desperately in love with you.” He lifts a hand then, cupping the back of my head as he lea
“Oh!” Leo says, breaking into a grin and rushing back to me, his rifle bouncing on his back. “Sorry!”“Don’t be sorry, babes,” I murmur, handing my son his water bottle and then snatching him close to me for another hug. “Just stay hydrated and make sure your dad has some too.”“Come on, Leo!” Frank