Page 125 of A Wedding in Tuscany

‘Bye,’ says Sarah, waving. ‘Bye from Aunty Sarah, Sebastian. I love you. Bye …’

We end the call and I place the phone on my lap and look up at Jean-Luc. ‘What do you think?’ I ask.

‘I think we need to get him his passports tout de suite, n’est-ce pas?’

I grin at him. ‘I meant his name, silly.’

Jean-Luc shrugs then looks down at our son. ‘What do you think, Sebastian?’ He leans in close as though he’s listening, then lifts his head. ‘He says “Ralph” but we spell it the British way?R-A-F-E.’

‘I love it.’

‘He is already wise, our son.’

‘Takes after his papa.’

Those intense green eyes lock onto mine and he leans down and kisses me?a proper kiss, the kind that usually leads to lovemaking, though there will be less of that in the foreseeable future. And just as I start to lose myself in the sensation of my husband’s kiss, Sebastian emits a mewling cry.

Jean-Luc steps back, stroking his face and making soothing shushing sounds, as his tiny balled fists wave in the air. ‘I think he might be hungry,’ I say.

‘I think you may be right, Mama,’ he says, handing me Sebastian.

Mama. My heart may just burst.