Matteo came toward her and kissed her cheek.
Her phone in her back pocketbeeped so she checked her messages. Her father was here? She showed her screen to Matteo as she said, “Papa is waiting to see us when we get back.” What could he want? What a nice surprise.
The crew opened the door. “I never asked your father officially for your hand before we married.”
“He said yes at the wedding.”
“Not the same thing.”
“Relax. He’s happy for us.” They walked side by side onto the stairs that led down to the waiting limo to bring them home. She looped her arm with Matteo’s as she said, “Papa’s always busy in his restaurant though I know he loves me.”
Matteo waved for her to go first into the air conditioned limo. “Most men love my wife it seems.”
Her tanned skin retained the warmth of Fiji. As he slipped in beside her she asked, “What are you talking about?”
Matteo pinned her with his gaze. “Charles was fighting to get you back.”
For weeks neither one of them had said his name. She pressed her lips together and wondered if something was in the air here? She sucked in her bottom lip. “I thought we were never discussing him again.”
He kissed her hand. “We aren’t. I’m nervous about your father, I suppose.”
Her father was super nice and loved by everyone. “Why?”
He massaged her arm and goosebumps grew again as he said, “Because I… I love you.”
She laughed. This was awesome. Of course. She nodded and patted her belly. “Then we can tell him together about the baby in person.”
Truthfully though being pregnant still felt like she was in some dream and it wasn’t real.
As soon as Simone opened the door of the Villa for them, they stepped inside and she could smell the savory lamb shank stew that her father always made for her. Her nose would never forget that smell.
Matteo walked with her as they headed into the dining room. Her mouth watered, recalling that certain taste of spice and meat. As she glanced at the buffet offerings, she knew her father was close by. She stepped back and called out, “Papa, what’s all this?”
He came in from the servant’s entrance wearing his chef’s gear and walking next to Fiona, who had an uncharacteristic redness to her face as her father said, “I’ve been showing your chef how to properly make my daughter’s favorite foods.”
Matteo lifted a ceramic dish of creme brûlée. “This looks amazing, sir.”
Hmm. Her father and Fiona were still next to each other. He’d not shown interest in any woman in years from what she remembered.
“Call me Nicoli, please.” He patted Matteo on the shoulder like they were close friends. Sheena took another whiff of burnt sugar and winced, turning away. She breathed through her nose and thankfully the nausea passed.
Her father’s eyes rounded with concern. “What’s wrong with my daughter?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, Papa. Just pregnant.”
Her father’s eyes welled with tears that poured down his cheeks. He hugged her and glanced over her head as he rocked her. “Pregnant…I’m glad I came to give you this.”
He let her go and pulled a letter out of his back pocket, handing her an envelope of faded ivory. She read the dainty handwriting of her name. “What is it?”
He kissed her forehead. “It’s from your mother. She wanted you to have this letter after you married and planned on having children. She wrote it in the hospital bed, knowing she didn’t have much time and would never know you.”
Tears rolled down her face.
And then in his usual fashion, he left to stir the stew at the buffet and check on his creations.
Sheena swallowed and carefully opened the envelope to not tear it as she said, “Let me sit and read this.”
She cried as she read her mother’s words. She’d been just a tiny infant when her mom had written this, and she probably knew she’d die. She wiped her tears as she finished, fearful of ruining the old paper. Then she stood and walked over to her father as she said, “Papa, this is wonderful. Thank you.”
