Page 204 of Falling for the Wife

“Gian Luca.” She sent me a sad look.

“You named him after me?” My heart rejoiced and broke a little bit more upon hearing her tell me his name.She named him after me. I silently reveled in the knowledge. My son.

Her gesture moved me beyond recognition. In truth, she didn’t have to do that. That had to mean something. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt as though it was her way of making it known he was mine, even though I had given her all the rights to the child.

Before I could break down and analyze her intentions, the doctor reappeared, banishing the other thoughts that weren’t solely focused on Gian Luca.

After a few quick tests, forms, and all the other things to be checked since I’d had a complicated surgery, I was cleared to have my blood drawn.

The medical staff led me to a room where they would perform the procedure. Gian Luca was apparently in another room, though Kimberly promised I would get to meet him once everything was done.

Needles weren’t all that appealing to me, yet I barely noticed any of it, too consumed in the knowledge that I would get to see my son.

I knew excitement should be the last thing on my mind, but it couldn’t be helped. Never had I considered this moment would happen so soon. I had imagined he might seek me out when he was older and was no longer under his mother’s care. However, I didn’t have to wonder any longer. I was going to meet him … for the first time … and I couldn’t bloody fucking wait.

Once the procedure was done, I was supposed to nibble on something light and hydrate since a hefty amount of blood had been drawn out of my system. The last thing I wanted to do was drink or eat, though. I wanted to walk to where my son was being cared for.

“Why don’t you sit a while? Drink something to refresh yourself?” Kimberly asked the moment she saw me come out of room where they had held me up for a little less than an hour.

I shook my head. “Take me to him.” My son was all I required to be all right.

“Okay. All right, Luca.” She conceded without any more interference. It was as if she understood my intrinsic need to be with him.

Entering a separate section of the Neo-natal Nursery Care Unit, she led me towards another set of double doors where the halls were much quieter, and the machines functioned in a hush echo. The vast difference made the ends of my hair stand out. My son was in delicate care, and his little self was fighting for his life. My throat constricted at the thought of him using all of his might and energy to fight something he hadn’t wished for.

The moment we stepped into the room, my world stopped spinning. It was as if I could see no one, not even Kimberly who was eagerly watching me.

The child was steps away from me in his tiny cubicle, swaddled from halfway down his body while the upper half was covered in a buttoned, baby-blue sweater. I supposed the sweater made it easier for the monitors to be attached to his chest while keeping him warm all at the same time.

Though the plastic mask to help him breathe mostly covered his face, his Italian features were distinctly mine. His nose gave it away. It was the same as mine, as well as my father’s and my grandfather’s.

I didn’t need a paternity test to tell me he was mine; I knew it with every fiber of my being. This baby was undoubtedly a di Medici.

“Gian Luca,” I gently whispered as my eyes gathered him in. He was so tiny he barely fit in his baby clothes. “Mio bambino …” (My baby boy.) “Papa’s here.” Tears instantly gathered in my eyes as I watched his precious, little chest take in air. It was as though he was too weak to do it.

I was bombarded with overwhelming emotions. Above all, I was angry that my son had to go through something like this. He was so pure, so innocent. He had barely lived enough days until this sickness threatened to wreak havoc on his body.

Watching him in such a powerless state, I vowed to give him the best care possible. I didn’t care how much it cost as long as he became better. I wasn’t sure how we would be able to cure this disease, but I knew I was going to be there, holding my baby’s hand, fighting this fight alongside him.

Diece

How could I separate myself after meeting my newborn son? It was a daunting question I had considered from the moment Kimberly had whispered about leaving the room so I could take care of myself. Apparently, she was worried I was going to faint, and that would be the last thing she needed.

“I’m not going to faint,” I persisted, never taking my eyes off my baby’s. “I’m fine.”

“What if you’re not fine?” she yelled.

She finally got my undivided attention. Dragging my eyes from Gian Luca, I spun around and stared at the woman who seemed to be on the verge of tears and, quite possibly, a mild break down.

“There’s no need to worry about me, Kim. I promise you, all right? Give me more time to be here. I haven’t had my fill of him yet …” If she dared ask me to leave after she had gotten my help, I would be devastated. She wouldn’t do that, would she?

“No … You don’t understand …” She adamantly shook her head, leaving her tears to stream down her pale face. “But I worry about you. I know I shouldn’t, but every waking moment, every second, I do.” She sniffed, appearing beyond broken. “I can’t have you nearly dying on me, Luca. I thought the nightmares would stop, but they haven’t. I’m scared about you … about Gian Luca. If you both die...” Her body was shaking to the point of convulsing.

My defenses instantaneously shut down as I took her in my arms and held her as if she was the most precious thing I had ever held, and she was. No woman could come close.

“I’m here. You know I’m always here.”

She cried in my arms with her hands gripping my shirt, clinging on to me. “Luca,” she huffed out. “Please don’t hate me too much…”