Chapter 75: Chapter 75

C H A P T E R - - - - T H I R T Y - - - - T H R E E

While admiring my shoes in the Camaro, I crossed my legs. I didn't have a particular purpose for doing this other that I wanted to remind myself it was there. I also adjusted my bracelet on my wrist.

“Okay, well, we have to come up with an excuse. You needing to work and me needing a makeup change isn’t going to cut it. We’re seriously late,” I said into the car.

“Babe, we don’t need an excuse. Anyone who sees you in that dress and those shoes will know exactly why we’re late.”

I felt my face pale, actually felt it, and turned my head to look at him.

“That isn’t true.”

“Okay, I’ll amend my statement. Any man who sees you in that dress and those shoes will know exactly why we’re late. Including your Dad.”

“Ack!” I gagged then put my hands up to my ears and chanted, “La la la.”

Through my chanting I heard Falcone laugh.

When it seemed it was safe, I stopped chanting and dropped my hands.

Falcone started speaking. “Got an interesting call today.”

“Yeah?” I prompted when he said no more.

“Developers,” he replied and I turned to look at him again. “This is their fourth call in as many months. They want the warehouse and the space around it, all of which I own. They’ve been offering bullshit but their offer today got motivating.”

“What?” I whispered.

Four months had passed since Falcone and I returned to us. Four excellent months. It was July's first week. The climate was pleasant. The days dragged on. Of course, our fervor had not subsided. However, things had altered.

I was now so tightly bound to him that I was confident I would never be free and I didn't want to be. The same is true of being so far in that I'd never come out.

Though I was submerged in Falcone, I never lost any sense of who I was.

He occasionally participated in my daily activities as I went about living my life, editing my novels, meeting my girls, shopping, dining out, and watching movies.

Falcone was a hard-working individual. But when he was with me, he was completely focused on me. We frequently went out to dinner and watched movies together, largely because I didn't eat the same as he did (and wasn't going to), he could order anything he wanted, and I didn't have to prepare two meals (though, on occasion, I did this too). When he had free time, he would hang out at my place, or I would hang out at his.

We shared a bed every night, despite the fact that our days often brought us apart. We would occasionally go to bed together while he was with me. Occasionally, in the middle of the night, I would feel his warm hand on the small of my back. Sometimes he would phone and ask me to come over to his house, so I would. He didn't have a key to my house (that I was aware of); but, he didn't require one. I had one.

It wasn't simple being together. It was not calm. It was not relaxing and at ease. He was too domineering, and I was too smartassy. We joked around and sometimes got into fights. But I had discovered that I was utterly unable to put up with Falcone being angry with me, and I had later realized that Falcone felt the same way. Never was there any resentment. We generated sparks, but none of those sparks ever ignited into a fire that might do harm. We, however, moved past it and on.

I also enjoyed this. I liked this. I enjoyed having him in my space and enjoying being in his. I visited him with bath wash and sweet pea lotion. In his medical cabinet, I found my own stick of deodorant. Aside from his razor, he had one in mine. In addition to purchasing two more, I had already purchased a cute frame for Simone and Sophie. At Ryan's birthday celebration, Antonette shot a photo of Falcone and I, which was in one of them. I had my head tilted back, my arms around Falcone, and my nose resting against his jaw while laughing. I was also laughing while pressing against Falcone's side. My shoulders were being cradled by Falcone, who was likewise grinning and had his head tilted slightly to the side. On Falcone's fridge, that image was displayed. Ramona's photograph was in the other frame, which was on my desk.

He had his arm over my shoulders, and mine was wrapped around his as we moved past the security area at his base. In addition to watching and listening to Jorge, Falcone had his head inclined to the side. Ramona was saying something, and I was laughing as I looked back at her. I don't know why, but I really liked that picture of Falcone and I. We were holding hands and strolling together in a carefree manner, and the picture captured that. Falcone's profile was also really attractive, and I think my face was beaming. Naturally, my hair was looking fantastic at the time.

He couldn’t sell the warehouse. We were comfortable. We had a routine. We each had our own method.

In addition, where would we place the air hockey table that he purchased?

“You’re thinking of selling?” I asked.

“Yeah, they got that kind of cake, they want it so they’ll offer more. They offer more, seriously, babe, be a fool not to.”

“But I thought you liked the warehouse. I thought you needed space. There’s not a lot of places you can get that kind of space, Yago.”

“Findin’ I don’t need that kind of space anymore, Sweet Pea, and you can’t raise kids in a place like that.”

I sucked in so much air it was a wonder Falcone didn’t immediately pass out due to lack of oxygen.

“Gia?” he called.

“Kids?” I choked.

He remained quiet. The reason I was gasping for air and had visions of dark-haired, dimple-faced baby commandos wearing small cargo trousers was because I was having breathing issues.

Finally he muttered, “Fuck.”

“Fuck what?” I asked.

“Shit, babe, saw you with Sandro and Santo, thought you liked kids.”

“I –”

“Thought you liked ‘em so much, you’d want ‘em.”

“I –”

“Fuck, Gia.”

“Fuck what?” My voice was rising mainly because I was freaking out but also because he wasn’t letting me talk.

He pulled to the side of the road, stopped, turned to me and his eyes caught mine.

Then he muttered again, “Fuck.”

“Fuck what!” I almost shouted.

“It isn’t a good time to talk about this.”

“Falcone, you need –”

“It’s your parents’ anniversary.”

“Falcone!” I snapped. “You need to tell me what’s flipping you out.”

“I want kids.”

I stared at him, my heart beating so hard I could swear my dress fluttered.

He wasn’t saying he wanted kids as much as he was saying he wanted kids with me.

I mean, he wanted kids, but he was sayinghe wanted kids with me.Yago “Falcone” Cabrera wanted kids with me!

Yay!

Oh shit. I was going to start crying and ruin my makeup.

“It’s important to me, baby,” he said softly.

I swallowed. Then I asked, “How many do you want?”

“Two or three.”

“Boys or girls?”

“Don’t care.”

I didn’t either. I didn’t care. I didn’t care at all.

My vision went blurry as my mind filled with Falcone holding our child and feeding it a bottle.

Then my belly got squishy.

Then I felt his knuckles glide down my cheek and I refocused when he said quietly, “I’d be happy with one, Gia.”

“Only children can get spoiled. You have to have at least two. Siblings are important. And if we start with two boys, we have to have a girl because brothers should have a sister. But if we start with two girls, we have to go for a boy because sisters should have a brother. I always wanted a brother. A son of my father would have been able to beat the shit out of boyfriends that broke my heart. I wouldn’t have had to resort to cookie dough and it would have saved Jonas a lot of money in divorce attorneys, seeing as he’d still be in a coma.”

I stopped talking and felt it. The air in the Camaro had turned electric.

“You sayin’ that for me or do you want kids?” he asked.

“Both,” I answered.

My seatbelt abruptly came undone and zipped back so quickly that I yelled in shock. And Falcone's followed. My ass was in his lap, his hand was in my hair, his other arm was wrapped around me, and his mouth was heavy and hot on mine as he gave me a very wet, very heated kiss that included some hand motion when his hands began to roam. Then I was immediately yanked out of my seat and forced between him and the steering wheel.

He released my mouth but kept me wedged and I blinked as he spoke.

“They offer higher, I’ll accept.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

“You got a problem with me movin’ into your place?”

“No,” I replied instantly, my heart beating, my belly squishy, my mind spinning cartwheels of joy.

“All right,” he whispered.

“You sure you don’t need space anymore?”

“That kind of space means, you’re there, you need to go somewhere, anywhere you go is far away from me so, yeah, I don’t need that space anymore.”

Oh my God.

I knew what he was saying. I knew what he meant and I lifted my hand to his jaw.

“You’re in deep with me, aren’t you, baby?” I whispered my question just to confirm.

“Drowning,” he whispered back.

Oh my God. He felt the same as me!

“I love you, Yago.”

The minute I said it, he curled me into him so we were pressed together and his face was in my neck.

“Love you too, Sweet Pea.”

He loved me.

Thank God, he loved me.

I relaxed against him but slid my hand from his jaw to the back of his neck.

“Yay,” I whispered in his ear and felt him smile against my neck.

Then he kissed me there, his head moved slightly, his tongue touched the skin behind my ear then his head moved again and he kissed my lips lightly, once, twice, again before he nipped my lip and then unwedged me and deposited me in my seat.

He rebuckled, I followed suit and then I took a moment to feel my joy.

Then I grabbed my clutch from the floor, opened the clip, pulled out my lip gloss and flipped down the visor, muttering, “Twice tonight you’ve ruined my lip gloss and we’re not even at the restaurant.”

He pulled into traffic muttering back, “Babe.”