Page 43 of Forbidden Pregnancy (The Buffalo Italian Mob Family #2)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Myra

The Honeymoon

(... with our one year old)

O ur one year old daughter Gianna Rae Corsini sits on my lap as I sprawl out on the deck of the chartered catamaran.

Going to the Italian coast for our honeymoon without actually ever leaving the boat was a brilliant idea.

Michael is far too paranoid to walk around the cities with me and his daughter on his arm, especially since his gain in rank within the Buffalo Italian mob family.

I don’t even care. The boat is perfect and I wouldn’t trade lying in the sun with my daughter for anything.

Of course, she has lots of sunscreen lathered on her light brown skin.

I worry about my little baby getting a burn, but I’m happy that her skin is dark enough that we look related.

I didn’t have a preference for my baby’s skin tone, but I love that her skin is on the darker side compared to other mixed kids I’ve seen.

It suits her. And her dark skin makes her eyes pop…

As if to make up for the cruelty of Michael losing one of his gorgeous eyes, our daughter’s eyes are the same shade of blue.

I would have never thought I had the potential for these recessive genes to express themselves, but my daughter has skin the color of roasted cinnamon, textured hair like mine about a 4b texture, and blue eyes that match Michael Corsini’s.

She smiles as she sits in between my legs, reaching for the sun with all the enthusiasm for life that only a toddler can express.

It’s so beautiful watching the world through her eyes and feeling all of Gianna Rae’s joy.

Michael emerges from below deck around the same time as a big fish jumps out of the water about fifty yards off.

He turns around to look at the giant tuna (or whatever that thing was) and then grins as he returns his gaze to the two of us.

Ever since we became a real family, his obsession with “us as a family” has become downright corny. I don’t mind corny, but it’s pretty funny coming from a gigantic Italian mobster.

“You two look incredible,” he says. “I need to work on my tan.”

“You need to work on a relationship with sunscreen.”

Michael grunts. “Be careful, Myra. I’m already thinking about our next one.”

“I hope you’re talking about our next trip and not another baby.”

Gianna Rae laughs, unaware of the seriousness of our discussion. Michael sits next to me on the boat deck and takes Gianna into his big arms as she reaches for him.

“I’m talking about another baby. But if it takes a trip to convince you, I’ll give you my credit card.”

She smacks her fathers legs and laughs playfully.

I look over at Michael, taking in all the little details and features of his face, ignoring the fact that my heart still does that nervous jump when I look over at him.

He doesn’t look any older than he did when I first felt that soft warm spark for him.

“Are you sure we’re ready for another baby?”

“Why not?” Michael says gruffly. “I’m already getting too old to be a father.”

“You’re not too old. And neither am I. We’re mature parents. Can you imagine the two of us running around with kids in our twenties?”

Michael laughs. “No,” he says. “I lost my eye in my thirties so… I can’t imagine having a kid then, either.”

Gianna Rae peacefully stares out over the ocean as I lean my head on Michael’s shoulder.

He never told me how he lost his eye and it never seemed appropriate to ask him that type of personal question.

I sit quietly, listening to the water and waiting for him to fill the empty space with his secret – if he so chooses.

“I want to tell you what happened there,” Michael says in reference to his missing eye. “But I have to keep it private for my family.”

I don’t want to tell him that I wondered the first time I saw his face again.

But after twelve years, he still looked just as hot without that eye so maybe it doesn’t really matter.

Gianna Rae gurgles again, blissfully unaware of the serious silence descending on both of us.

Michael moves in closer to me and our fingers interlace with each other naturally.

“I never questioned you, did I?”

“No,” Michael says. “You didn’t. Your blind trust in me got you hurt, but I can promise you that will never happen again, Myra.”

“I know.”

“Do you think we could have another miracle baby?” Michael asks, his thumb rubbing along the center of my palm in slow circles.

“I doubt it but… I doubt we’ll stop trying.”

“Good girl,” Michael whispers, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”