76|Epilogue 1

~Zia~

“Xavier!” I pressed my hand on my lower back, the other set under my huge belly, breathing in and out. The cramps were different. Dr. Shiovan told me I would know when it was time. And it’s damn time.

Still in his pajamas, Xavier came rushing into our room with flour decorating the black apron around his neck. He was making a ravioli for me, my request last night, and he promised me he’d make his pasta for the dish, which became my go-to food in the third trimester of my pregnancy.

“It’s time?” he asked, helping me up from the reading nook where I spent my entire morning.

“Fuck,” I hissed, feeling another contraction. “He’s coming out.”

Xavier’s face paled, his skin mirroring the flour color on his apron as he stared wide-eyed over me. “A-already?” He stuttered, panic written all over his face. It looks as though he’d pass out before I even got out of this room.

Who would have thought that the feared Italian mafia don would be afraid of his wife getting a fucking contraction? “Get a fucking grip, Xavier,” I hissed. “I’m the one who’s gonna give birth and not you!” my last words came out as a scream when another wave of pain hit me.

Xavier licked his lips, removing his apron, wounding his arms under mine, looping around my hips, keeping me steady as he pulled out his phone.

“Ah, good lord!”

“Wait, don’t panic,” he said, tapping on his phone as he guided me out of the room.

He’s the one panicking, not me, for crying out loud!

“Erik, Zia’s in pain. Prepare the car,” his voice was shaking a bit, still panicking, but at least he’s keeping it together.

Pellets of sweat formed on my forehead as I took each step, cussing and hissing out in pain. I’ve had a few false alarms before. The few utterly painful cramps that came by these last two weeks have been nothing but a preparation for the pain I’m feeling right now.

As I walked with him, Xavier, undecided on how to help me, scooped me in his arms, carrying my weight that had doubled in the last five months. He walked us to the private elevator; he made sure we had our own in case I’d go into labor. I fought him about it before, thinking that it was quite absurd to have our private lift, but I’m freaking grateful that he forced on the idea.

“Hang on, love,” Xavier cooed as he pressed the button to the basement parking lot.

I groaned, unable to form any coherent words through the pain. It makes me want to pull my hair out of the roots and curse my husband for being a man and nature for letting a woman have a womb. Why do women have to get pregnant and not men? I had these crazy thoughts through my pain for one moment, but I sure as hell would go through all this pain again just to see our baby healthy and well.

Xavier kept mumbling encouraging words. I think he has already recovered from the shock of seeing my distressed face.

~~

Five hours and a long line of profanities and cursing later, Dr. Shiovan smiled down at me as she placed a healthy, crying baby boy above my chest with utter gentleness. I don’t mind the blood that stained the white dress I have on; I don’t care one bit if I look like a disaster gone wrong with the sweat and all the push I’ve done. When I laid eyes on our baby and felt that first gaze of his innocent eyes on me, tears welled from my eyes.

It was overwhelming, satisfying, and fucking worth it to bring this baby to the world. Beside me, Xavier was running his fingers through my hair as he stared down at our baby boy.

Our eyes locked, both of us crying like fools while chuckling.

I might have cursed him too much while I was in labor, but seeing the look on his face tells me he doesn’t mind that his arms bare my nail scratches on them.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

All I could do was lean on him, drained with any strength to mumble a word. My eyes were drooping, yet I memorized the face of this little bundle of joy and hope.

~~

“What will we name him?” Xavier asked when I woke up the next day.

We’re still in Luciano Hospital, which was funded fully by Xavier. It has been one of our many projects to help as many people as we can. Yes, we’re still in the mafia, but a lot has changed since we took over.

There are still those underground businesses, but we make it to the point that no innocent lives would be in danger because of us. We’ve cleared the streets off of prohibited drugs and provided employment to as many individuals as possible through our legal companies. We also funded foundations, not to clear our conscience with our sins, but to prove to other mafia families that organized crime doesn’t have to be brutal all the time. Living harmoniously with everyone is possible, and this baby is one of the many reasons we wanted to make this world a better place to live in.

I was still in bed, my entire body was still aching, but the sight of my husband looking down at our son in his arms with nothing but fondness had my heart melting in puddles.

We’ve never talked about baby names, but I sure had a lot of time to think about it.

I reached for Xavier’s arms, giving it a light squeeze. He lifted his gaze from the baby sleeping in his arms. “What about Franco Gabriel?”

He halted for a moment, staring at me with his beautiful green eyes. Francine’s middle name was Gabriella, and I knew she would be very proud of what her son had become and what kind of father he would be to Franco.

Xavier scooted closer to me, planting a kiss on my forehead. “That’s a beautiful name, Zia.”

Before we could go deeper into our dramatic scene, the door to my room burst open, revealing Mom, Dad, Lu, Bo, Penny, Diego, and Erik with broad smiles on their faces.

Xavier reprimanded them for being too loud, throwing me many questions about the labor and how I felt because Franco was deep asleep.

See? Good dad indeed. Overprotective for this matter.