by Bethany-Kris
Nobody loved her like he did.
Nobody could ever possibly be him to her.
“One more,” she heard him say, his words mumbled into her hair. “Give me one more, babe.”
“I can’t—I can’t.”
She didn’t think she could come again.
John had a different opinion. “You sure fucking can.”
It took longer for the fourth orgasm to come. It took her fingers toying between her thighs, while he fucked her hard enough to make her bones ache in the best way. It took two of his fingers stuffed into her ass while he yanked her hair back, and whispered the dirtiest things in her ear.
God.
She loved all of it.
She didn’t hurt a bit.
She really was just fine.
“Fuck, yeah.”
She heard John’s grunt through her mindless, pleased haze a second before his warm cum painted her back. His hand pressed hard against her shoulders, and she could feel the tremor working its way through his body just from the pressure alone as he tried to keep himself upright.
Siena laughed.
John chuckled, too.
“I still said what I said,” she said, tasting sex and love on her tongue. “And I meant it—I am fine, John.”
“Don’t push me, Siena.”
“Who else will?”
TWENTY
Two months later …
John laughed as the men crowded him into a hotel room. His father followed in behind his uncles, cousin, and grandfather with baby Tiffany on his hip.
“Come on,” John said, “I am sure I can fucking dress myself, now.”
“We have to make sure you don’t run,” Giovanni joked.
“And we have to have at least one drink before you head down,” Andino added.
He gave his cousin a look. “I’m not drinking.”
Dante gave John a light slap to his cheek as he passed. “One drink will not hurt you—we’ll make it a beer.”
Fine.
A beer he could do.
“Here,” Andino said, throwing the garment bag at John.
“Christ, that’s a four-thousand dollar Armani suit. Be easy, Andi.”
Andino pointed a finger at his cousin. “Get your ass dressed.”
Lucian gestured at the attached bathroom. “Get ready in there. We’ll be waiting when you’re done.”
The rest of them were already done up, and waiting on him. Frankly, they had kept him running and on his feet from the moment he woke up to a splash of cold water being dumped on his face that morning.
Fucking Andino.
“I hope you all did this to Andi on his wedding day, too,” John threw over his shoulder.
“Nope,” someone called back.
“Assholes.”
He shut their laughter out by closing the bathroom door. Finally, he had some kind of silence for the first time all day.
John stood there and soaked it in.
Soon, nothing would be quiet.
A room full of guests.
A dinner.
A party after.
It was a lot of stimulation, and probably the only thing about this whole day that had really concerned John. Still, anticipation curled heavily in his gut, mixing with the lingering longing that hadn’t left him since he knew he loved Siena.
He was getting married to the love of his life today.
Nothing else mattered.
“All right, I’m fucking dressed,” John said as he left the bathroom.
Surprisingly, only his father and Andino were left in the room. Well, and little baby Tiffany sleeping over her grandfather’s shoulder.
“Where did everybody go?” John asked.
“To get the drinks,” Andino said, flashing him a grin. Coming close to John, his cousin pulled him in for a one-armed hug. “You look good, man.”
“I better.”
Andino laughed. “Don’t pump that ego up too big, huh?”
“Too late.”
“It’s a Marcello thing.”
That was the excuse they all used.
Nothing ever changed.
“I have to go grab something from Haven, but I’ll be back,” Andino told him.
John nodded. “Sure, man.”
Once Andino was gone from the room, John took a seat beside his father. Lucian gave him a small smile all the while patting his granddaughter’s bottom in a rhythmic fashion to keep her asleep.
Things with Cella weren’t necessarily better, but they weren’t horrible, either. At least, his sister could stand to be in the same room with him, and didn’t make it her second job to glare at him. She was still grieving, though, and so John opted to keep his distance.
Time would heal wounds.
After all, time had healed his wounds.
Well, time and Siena.
“You know I’m proud of you, don’t you?” Lucian asked quietly.
John nodded. “I know, Dad.”
He reached over and stroked the sleeping baby’s cheek.
“She’s precious,” Lucian said. “I thought very little would compare to when my children were born, but let me say, grandchildren are something else entirely. I look forward to having more, and soon.”
His father gave him a pointed look.
John rolled his eyes. “Not even trying to be sly.”
“I have moved beyond that stage in my life. It doesn’t get me what I want.”
“Children are not on the table for a while.”
Lucian frowned. “Why not?”
John shrugged, but didn’t offer any information as to how much the thought of children terrified him to his core. He still struggled with the idea of passing on a life that sometimes felt like a punishment, rather than simply a difference.
“Ah,” Lucian said like he could read John’s mind.
John cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
“You still think about that genetics test we did years ago, don’t you?”
“And the information you found about Lina.”
Lina being his father’s biological mother.
Lucian cleared his throat. “And yet, despite the fact she was bipolar, all I remember about my mother is how beautiful, loving, and wonderful she was, John.”
“Perhaps your perspective is colored by the fact she died when you were like seven, or something.”
“Perhaps, but I don’t think it matters, either.” Lucian smiled faintly again. “You should never—ever—be afraid to have a child just like you, son. You were an amazing boy who grew into an incredible man. You were perfect—more like me than your mother, but with just enough of Jordyn to color you up. You made your mother and I better people, John. You made us better parents. We learned to stop and take account of ourselves, and of others. We learned not to be ignorant in our thoughts and feelings about things people suffer with, and often suffer in silence.”
Lucian shrugged, adding, “You were, and still are, one of our greatest gifts. And if anything I have ever done makes you afraid to be a father, then I am sorry.”
“You are the best father.”
“Who still makes mistakes sometimes,” Lucian said.
“That’s what humans do.”
It had just taken him a long time to realize that.
“Please don’t be afraid to have a child like you, John. Don’t ever be afraid to become a better man because of it, either.”
John stood at the end of the makeshift aisle. Silk and tulle and bushels of white and pink flowers covered the place in light colors, and floral scents. Guests had already filled the fifty or so white chairs set up—their ceremony was small, but their party would be massive.
Siena liked the harp, so a woman dressed in purple played one in the corner. An ordained minister waited behind John and Andino, ready to begin whenever those doors at the back opened.
They could have had this ceremony in a church, as would have been better for la famiglia, but John refused to wait. He would not spend time on useless
couple’s counseling when he already knew what he wanted for the rest of his life.
He didn’t need a priest to confirm it.
Siena was his.
And he was hers.
Andino’s hand clapped John on the shoulder. “You ready?”
John nodded.
Sweet Jesus.
He had been ready for his whole life. It just took three decades to finally meet her. Because that’s what Siena was to him—his life.
“Yeah,” John said.
Andino nodded to someone in the back, and the waiting man stepped up to the doors. He swung them open, and took a step back to get out of the way.
There, waiting, was Siena.
In her A-line, ivory lace wedding dress that swept the floor, and trailed behind her with a four foot train. Her veil kept her face hidden, but not quite enough. He could still see the way her painted red lips curved with love when his gaze landed on hers.
She was beautiful.
So perfect.
He was going to spend the rest of his life loving this woman, and making sure she knew it every second of every single fucking day of their lives.
She had been his catalyst.
She had been his saving grace.
She was his everything.
Loving her forever was the least he could do.
“Your turn,” Andino said.
Yeah, it was his turn.
He promised, after all.
She wouldn’t walk alone.
John made his way down the aisle in a quick stroll. Siena stayed still at the very end, waiting for him.
He probably should have waited until the end of the ceremony to do what he did.
It was the custom.
Tradition.
John didn’t care about any of those things. The second he met her at the end, he bunched her veil up, flipped it back, and kissed her hard.
Laughter lit up the room.
Siena’s smile curved against his.
“I love you,” he told her.
“I love you, John.”
“Are you ready?”
Siena nodded. “I have been ready.”
They turned to face the now-standing guests.
A future was waiting.
Finally.
EPILOGUE
Three years later …
If there was one thing—above all things—about her marriage and John that Siena thought was most important to remember, it was that surprises were not welcomed. Especially if said surprise meant a huge change in their lives, or something that could cause a massive emotional upheaval.
For other people, a change could be a good thing. A little stress, and a bit nerve-wracking, sure. They would, however, roll with the punches and accept the change.
For John, though, a change that could and would impact his entire life often led him to overthinking, panicking, and more. It almost guaranteed a hypomanic episode would be on the horizon, and once that was controlled, a short bout of depression to battle.
Siena never blamed him for these things.
She never wished for anything different.
Oh, she loved John.
Every part of him was hers to love.
So as she sat on the edge of the tub in their master bathroom, and stared at the little strip of plastic in her hand … she couldn’t help but think of what this would mean, and what would come of it.
The pregnancy test flashed with the word pregnant.
Over and over.
It had been flashing that for thirty minutes now. Her heart was so full—happiness, trepidation, and joy. A love so fierce, she could hardly breathe. Already, she loved this baby. A child she didn’t know, and would not see or hold for months. A child whose gender was still unknown, and whose name was yet to be picked.
And yet …
God, she loved this baby.
Still, the hesitance she felt was also very real.
Long ago, she and John had decided that children would be a very carefully planned event for them. When both of them were ready, and when everything was handled, then they would move forward together on having children.
This had not been planned at all.
Certainly not carefully.
A bout of a terrible chest cold that left Siena with a nasty infection, and led into pneumonia that she couldn’t shake caused her to miss an appointment for her shot. She had been stuck in bed, and then in the hospital for two weeks when the pneumonia got really bad.
John had barely left her side, of course.
Once she was better, her doctor recommended she wait until her cycle started at least once—as she hadn’t had a period in years since starting the shot—before they started the birth control again. They had been advised to use condoms as a backup method.
Yeah, well …
Her cycle never started. She and John didn’t know what a fucking condom was considering they hadn’t used them since the start of their relationship years ago.
They both knew better.
She knew better.
This was bound to happen.
Siena had promptly vomited every bit of the eggs and bacon mess John had left for her in the oven before he left for his morning jog. She had been keeping a pregnancy test hidden in her purse … just in case.
A part of her already knew.
Siena tapped the test against her palm again.
Pregnant, it flashed.
She was still trying to figure out a way to tell John and not surprise him, so to speak. She knew it was going to be practically fucking impossible. There could be no cute reveal that she secretly recorded, and then posted for the world to see. There could be no baby shoes in a gift box for him to open and be surprised.
None of that could happen.
She had to take away that element of shock so that this did not feel as though something John was not ready for in the first place.
Easier said than done.
Children had been his one sore topic for years. Not because he didn’t want to be a father, but because she knew he worried that he was going to pass on the same genetics that had been given to him. Whatever it was in his DNA that left him with a disorder that clouded and colored his life, thoughts, and emotional processing a little bit differently than everyone else.
It didn’t matter.
Children had always been non-negotiable for her. And she knew without a doubt that John would be the best father.
There was nothing wrong with him. There had never been anything wrong with him. Just like their children—nothing would ever be wrong with them, either. Regardless, they would be perfectly them. Little babies made by people who loved each other, and would love them.
They would have kids.
It was simply when.
Siena figured that time was now.
“John?”
“Hmm?”
He leaned over the top of her, and kissed the top of her head. In the vanity, her smile grew the longer his kiss lingered against the top of her head.
John’s fingers tangled into the waves of her hair, and held firm. “Love you.”
Siena reached up and patted his cheek—three day scruff tickled her fingertips. “I love you.”
“What did you want, babe?”
“I was thinking …”
“Keep going.”
He straightened a bit, and she kept an eye on him in the vanity mirror. In sleep pants that hung low on his waist, and his chest bare, it was a little distracting.
Siena forced herself to pay attention to the topic at hand. “I was thinking about the bedroom across the hall.”
“The empty one.”
“We kept it empty for a reason.”
John’s fingertips drifted over her bare shoulder. “For the someday nursery, you said.”
“Yeah, for that.”
“What, did you want to turn it into a private office or something?”
She usually worked out of the house, and if she did work inside, she used his office. Joh
n never minded, or if he did, he never said anything about it.
“Or something,” she replied.
John met her gaze in the mirror, and amusement stared back. “Okay, what, then?”
“What do you think about pastel green?”
“For a color?”
“Like paint,” she said. “It’s neutral.”
“So is beige.”
“But beige doesn’t really fit for a nursery, John.”
Momentarily, she saw him stiffen. Just as quick, though, he relaxed.
“No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“I would really like to start getting the nursery set up, John.”
“Would you?”
Siena shrugged, and all her worries drifted away the second John bent down to kiss the top of her head again.
“All right,” he murmured. “I think we can do that.”
“Because we’ll need one.”
John’s eyebrow arched a bit as he tipped his head up, and found her gaze in the mirror once more. “Will we?”
“What names do you like?”
His next swallow echoed.
The silence stretched on.
Siena waited John out.
“Luciano for a boy.”
“For your dad,” she said.
John nodded once. “And for my grandfather, yeah. Johnathan for a middle name.”
“What about for a girl?”
“I don’t know.”
Siena grinned. “You better figure it out, don’t you think? We’ll need to know.”
John sucked in a quiet breath, and his hands tightened on her shoulders. Not to a painful point, but a feeling that made her calm in an instant.
“That so?” he asked.
“I know this isn’t happening the way we talked about it, and—”
“Nothing is ever as I plan, Siena.”
“Are you happy?”
“And terrified,” he admitted. “But so happy.”
So happy.
That was all she needed to know. The rest, they could deal with. Just like everything else in their life.
They faced it together.
Head-on.
Unafraid.
Unashamed.
Unbroken.
Four months later …
“Your turn,” Siena whispered to John.