by Daphne Clair
‘He isn’t going back to sleep,’ Roxane declared firmly. He’d been in full cry, not just whimpering, when she’d slipped from under the covers before Zito hauled her back and got out of bed himself to fetch the baby to her. ‘He’s hungry.’
‘He’s always hungry.’
‘He’s a big baby, takes after his father. Maybe in a few weeks he’ll give up one of his night feeds. Right now he needs it.’
‘You know best.’ Zito shrugged.
He switched on the night-light and seated himself close to her on the bed, his arm going about her as she sat propped against the pillows. Roberto was sucking contentedly, and Roxane smiled down at him, then turned to share the smile with Zito.
He, too, was looking at their son. He touched the downy dark head with gentle fingers, lifted his eyes to Roxane, and raised his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘Both of you. I know I should never have done what I did to you, but the truth is I can’t be sorry about him.’
‘I’m not sorry either,’ Roxane acknowledged. In truth, she never had been. Dismayed, fearful, but not sorry.
Roberto hiccuped and gave a protesting cry.
Distracted, Roxane adjusted his position in her arms. ‘You shouldn’t be so greedy,’ she told him sternly.
‘We can’t help it,’ Zito said. ‘Neither of us can get enough of you.’
Roxane returned her eyes to the baby, and felt a piercingly familiar sensation, a strange mixture of joy and terror and heartbreak. ‘Is this how you felt about me?’ she asked Zito. ‘As if it was absolutely necessary to keep me from the slightest hurt, and it was your job to know what I needed and see that I got it, even if I didn’t know myself?’
‘Yes. Exactly.’
Softly, she said, ‘I think I understand.’
‘I didn’t take into account that you weren’t a helpless baby.’
‘I’m a mother now. Maybe it helps?’
‘Maybe. You were very brave, it was awesome. I’ve never admired anyone so much in all my life. And you’re so competent with him. So sure of yourself.’
‘Instinct—and my mother’s advice. Your mother’s too.’
‘Thank you for giving me a second chance.’ Zito paused. ‘If you still want a job, one of our catering managers is retiring in a few months. I’ve suggested you might like to give it a try.’
Roxane turned astonished eyes on him. ‘What did your father say—and your grandfather?’
‘I said you could do it,’ he answered, leaving her to guess at their reaction. ‘You’ve got the experience and you’re a natural organiser. We could hire a nanny for Roberto, but she’d have to live in because your hours could be irregular. Do you think you could fit the job around his needs if there was someone with him all the time?’
He was taking her breath away. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’
‘Does that matter?’ he asked. He slanted her a smile. ‘No, I wouldn’t mind. But it’s your decision.’
Her decision. No question, no subtle pressure. She almost believed he really wouldn’t mind. He’d got much more relaxed about things since Roberto’s birth. She hadn’t objected to him taking charge then—it had been blissful to let him deal with the medical people and the form-filling, reassuring to know that he’d be with her every minute, see she was well cared for and that everything that needed doing would be done, leaving her nothing to worry about but her own body and the baby.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said.
He turned her to face him again. ‘If you don’t want to work for the family, say so. It’s not a way of keeping you under my eye.’
‘I will.’ If Zito had been afraid of losing her in the early stages of their marriage, she had been afraid too. Afraid to rock the boat, afraid to argue or assert herself. Now she knew that their relationship could stand up to arguments, to disagreements, even to occasional anger and irrationality. They were strong enough to get through those storms.
‘I don’t want to take you over,’ Zito insisted.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I love you, but I won’t let you ride roughshod over me. I thought you knew that by now.’
‘I should,’ Zito agreed. He smiled into her eyes. ‘You’re a sassy woman, Mrs Riccioni. And I love you too.’
He bent his head and kissed her, gently and then quite fiercely, and she kissed him back.
‘When that young guy’s finished with you,’ Zito said, removing his lips from hers for long enough to look down at his son, ‘I have a few plans of my own. With your agreement,’ he added.
Roxane laughed. ‘You have it,’ she assured him. ‘All the way.’
He kissed her shoulder and settled himself against the pillows behind them, content to wait his turn.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8333-0
THE RICCIONI PREGNANCY
First North American Publication 2003.
Copyright © 2002 by Daphne Clair de Jong.
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