Page 56 of A Treasure To Keep (Leone Legacy #2)

Andrea

I arrived home from work ten minutes ago, surprised El wasn’t back from her coffee date with James.

Sometimes, those girls can talk for hours.

What’s suspicious is that James came in right as I was leaving my shift, mentioning that they parted ways several hours ago.

Maybe she’s shopping? Maybe she went over to Marco’s?

No. She would have told me if she was spending the afternoon with him.

El rushes in while I’m changing out of my work clothes, her voice cracking and mascara marking her flawless features.

“Mon trésor, what happened?” She paces around the bedroom, unable to say anything or make eye contact with me. Eventually, I grab her, holding her biceps in my hands to keep her still.

“El! Look at me. Tell me. I’ll fix it, but you have to tell me.”

Fat tears fall from her glassy, heartbroken eyes when her gaze connects with mine. “You’ll leave me!”

“We’ve gone over this before. Nothing could make me leave you. Tell me, please.”

“I’m pregnant.” Life stops for the first time since I had to tell El that I won’t be able to give her a baby.

I couldn’t be the one to make her a mother.

I can’t. Marco can. I’d love nothing more than to bolt over to Marco’s house and slug him.

Again. Instead, I shove my wants aside, promising myself that I’ll be strong for the woman I love.

“What would you like to do?” Please have the baby. I don’t tell her that, even though I’d beg and plead for her to continue her pregnancy. Even if that meant she would leave me for Marco. She deserves to be a mother.

“I told you already, you’ll leave me! It doesn’t matter what decision I make.”

I lead her out of our bedroom and onto the sofa, sitting her down as I kneel between her legs, holding her hands in mine. I swipe the falling tear away from her face when it threatens to land on her skirt. Does she genuinely believe that?

“Mon trésor, I’ll never leave you. And if it takes me reminding you of that every day, I will. I’d do anything at any time of day to remind you that you’re mine as long as you want me here. There’s a more important question that needs to be answered here. Do you want to have this baby?”

“Yes.” Her answer is a strangled whisper. She’s being honest, even though she’s convinced her answer will break my heart.

“Do you want to have this baby with me?” Please say yes. Please say yes. Please. Say. Yes.

She rips her hands from me, jumping up to her feet as her jaw drops before she answers my question. “Of course, I want to! What do you think I’d want to do? Leave you for Marco? He should be glad I didn’t walk in here holding his dick and balls and toss them in the garbage disposal.”

El steps over me, continuing her walk through our apartment and into our bathroom, slamming it in my face.

I set my forehead on the door when I hear the sound of the shower turning on.

With a shaking hand, I twist the knob, shocked when it glides open.

I notice the shadow of her body through the foggy shower door.

She’s hunched into herself as her sobs match her shaking body.

“El? Eleanora? Mon trésor?” I don’t bother to take off my clothes, inching closer to the woman I love and stepping into the shower with her.

I bend down, pulling her body into mine to hold her like a piece of antique glass, worried that it’ll break at any time.

Eventually, she shifts her body, straddling my lap and wrapping her arms around me while still hiding her face.

“Do you want me to . . . you know?” I swallow at her implication, concerned she would think I’d make her do anything she wouldn’t want. I want her to do whatever she thinks is best for her. It’s not my place to tell her otherwise.

“I want you to make the best decision for you. Have the baby. Don’t have the baby. Find another family to raise the baby. You have options, and my only job is to support you. I love you more than any choice you’d make.”

We listen to the sound of the water from the shower head pattering off our bodies and onto the floor before she whispers.

“I want to be a mother.”

I kiss the top of her hair, attempting to comfort her the best I can. “You deserve to be a mother.”

We spend who knows how long in the shower, letting the water soak my pants as she cries in my arms until there’s no more hot water left.

Afterward, I dry her off and spoil her the way she deserves.

I set her on the stool in our bathroom, rubbing lotion into her arms and legs and brushing her hair, helping her dress into her favorite pajamas.

I peel the sheets back, climbing into bed behind her to wrap her in my arms.

She surprises me by grabbing my hand that’s draped over her, laying it on her stomach. She lays hers on top of mine, pressing down on where life is currently growing inside of her. We say nothing as we fall asleep, knowing that our future will hold more than the two of us we assumed it would be.