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in there as he worked out the mess with Bianca. However, he didn’t. He wasn’t much of a talker. That was Vincent.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
     
     
     
     
    “What is wrong bella? Why is my donna crying?”
    Nicole’s brown eyes slid up to her husband’s anxious expression. He was nude, however she didn’t complain. Modesty was never one of Giuseppe’s virtues; she adored him despite this many shortcomings. The tears he thought were sadness were really joy. The unlikely Sicilian had brought wonderful gifts into her barren life with his fiery inhabitance. Mother dreams had shuttered a long time ago with the desecration of an abusive ex and doctors who gave her no hope. For almost two months, she tried to deny the possibility of this want so great, to achieve what many women did with ease. She had felt defective, half a woman and did not believe any man would want her, but the handsome and infuriatingly lovable Giuseppe Dichenzo did.
    A drip upon the sink was her love showing. Every moment with him had felt like a dream but it wasn't. She had proof and despite her refusal to believe, Giuseppe and the symptoms were real. That nausea, she had choked up to bad food when traveling abroad for concerts; the mood swings, she assigned to hormonal changes because thirty-nine is not too soon to experience peri-menopause.
    Today, the doctor confirmed, she was having a baby. She wanted to share the news tomorrow over breakfast, but she could not lead Giuseppe to believe she was gravely ill when she wasn't. Besides, eleven fifty-eight is technically close to midnight, right.
    Nicole sucked in air for courage; her fingers released the porcelain sink where her head remained bowed after retching in the mosaic bowl. She lifted her chin, but then the sickness returned violently.
    Giuseppe’s arms wrapped around her waist and he spoke rapidly in Italian. He had her firmly in his clutches and reached for the faucet, turned on the water and tenderly doused her flushed cheeks with the cool liquid. “We go to the doctor, ora!” he said, ending the string of obscenities in English.
    The nausea slowly passed. She leaned against the sturdy ribcage covered with taut skin. “No, I’m fine, really Geo I'm okay.”
    “No you are not,” Giuseppe bellowed and effortlessly hoist her in his arms like a lady-baby, although at five seven and one hundred and fifty-six pounds she was not considered an infant by anyone’s standards –except Giuseppe.
    Giuseppe carried his wife to the bed and placed her there to dress and fuss. He chastised himself aloud, talking about his donna suffering, nonsensical stuff Nicole found sweet but utterly foolish. She put an end to the rants when he grabbed his cell to phone someone, which she refused to allow. Giuseppe was far too impulsive.
    Nicole patted the empty space on the bed. “Love, come sit with me for a minute. There’s something I need to tell you.”
    “Cosa?” he asked irritably and then flopped reluctantly on the mattress. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. His wife chuckled but he did not find illness funny. He did not want death as a bedmate. His eyes narrowed. Santo, Nicole was lovelier than ever. “Tell me what is wrong bella.”
    Nicole took his hand, wrapping slender fingers atop his large knuckles, smiling at their blessing and somewhat nervous because she hadn’t expected this good fortune and uncertain of Giuseppe's reaction. “We're pregnant.”
    There was confusion in the blue eyes, followed by a tilt of the head to one side as if he misheard the words. Then awareness came like a roar of wind. “Cosa?” Nicole stroked his hair when he seized her into a tight embrace. “Are you certain…bella…cosa…is this true?”
    “Yes, it’s true. We’re having a baby. I planned to tell you tomorrow, but I guess I had to tell you before you forced me to the hospital in the middle of the night.” She kissed his cheek. “In this short time, you've made me the happiest woman in the