Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
From Dallas—a button nose and prominent red lips the shape of a strawberry.
And from Romeo—a shock of black hair matting his tiny head and enough lashes to warm a herd of llamas.
“My God.” Frankie slaps a hand to her chest, sticking her whole body in the hatch. “Sissy, he’s gorgeous!”
“I know.” Dallas slips off the bed with a grin and wheels the hatch to Romeo’s side. “He’s going to break a lot of hearts.”
The baby is fast asleep, just as I should be at this hour.
“And baseball bats.” Oliver mocks a swing. “Those dads won’t know how to handle Baby Costa.”
Romeo and Dallas grin down at their son. A sudden feral desire to produce an heir with Farrow slams into me.
I don’t want to wait for tomorrow.
I want to do it today.
“Let’s go over the thirty names.” Dallas clears her throat, unraveling a list that is very obviously longer than thirty.
Farrow shakes her head, eyes clinging to the child. “Luca.”
“Huh?” Dallas’ head snaps up, her mouth ajar. “No, that’s…that’s not even on my list.” She waves the note roller in her hand, paper flapping in the wind.
“Think about it.” Farrow meets her gaze, a small smile on her lips. “Luca.”
“Luca.” Romeo toys with the name, mouthing it a few times. He caresses a knuckle over his son’s cheek. “I like the sound of it. Strong. Italian.”
“Means bringer of light.” Dallas holds up her Google search. “He did bring a lot of light into my life, even before he was born.”
And so, Luca Salvatore Costa was introduced to the world, surrounded by family.
Later, I manage to make it to the parking lot before I can’t help myself anymore. “I want one, too.”
“What? A Toyota Camry?” Farrow glances at the nearest car, which happens to be a rusty vehicle that has seen better days. In the eighties. “I’m sure we can afford it.”
“A baby.”
I stop by her Prius. Because, yes, Farrow still drives her stupid Prius, which she loves to no end and also named Priscilla.
Another annoying remnant from her pre-engaged life—the apartment. Once she moved back in, she converted the studio into an office for business meetings.
Fine. I love her fierce independence.
“You want a baby?” She staggers against her car. “Zach, it’s illegal to just take one—”
“Not from the maternity ward. Christ.” I chuckle, loving that she messes with me. “One of our own.”
“We’re not even married yet.” She furrows her brows. “In fact, we cannot even come up with a date or a state for the wedding.”
True stuff.
A problem courtesy of my overbearingly enthusiastic mother.
We managed to patch things up quickly after our showdown in Thailand. Mainly because she showed up on my doorstep her first day back, promised to process her grief with a therapist, and even helped me hunt down my wedding ring.
A stunning emerald bracketed by sparkling rubies.
It belonged to Mom’s family for generations.
Rare. Just like Octi.
I snatch the keys from Farrow’s hands. “We can have a baby without being married.”
She hides a giggle with her fingertips. “Your mother would have another heart attack if we have a baby out of wedlock.”
“True.” I stroke my chin. I now live life on my own terms, but that doesn’t mean I’ll piss all over Mom’s wishes if they don’t interfere with my happiness.
“How about Vegas?”
“Vegas?” Farrow’s eyes light up. “Like, elope?”
I nod. “No catering, no arguments over venue, no floral arrangement you need to book three years in advance. You can wear your favorite sneakers and fencing gear, and no one would flinch.”
Lies.
Mom would.
But I don’t care. A small price to pay. Plus, we’ll still hold the traditional tea ceremony.
Farrow bites down on her lower lip. “What about Ari? I was single when she started planning her wedding.”
I shrug. “You snooze, you lose.”
Also, she’ll probably be the first to show up—and with a truckload of champagne.
“You really want to marry this bad, huh?” Farrow scrunches her nose. “Look a little desperate to me.”
“Baby.” I hook a finger into the collar of her sweatshirt, yanking her to me for a kiss. “I’m past desperate when it comes to you.”
THREE WEEKS LATER.
“And do you, Farrow Talia Ballantine, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
The Elvis impersonator turns to me, holding a book I’m ninety percent sure is an alien romance I once caught Dallas reading.
Mysterious stains litter the chapel’s red carpet. Plastic flowers spurt from dusty Dollar Tree vases. A flamingo-pink ceiling towers above our heads, overseeing the whole ceremony.
Elegant? Nope.
Perfect? Absolutely.
I grin at Zach. “I do.”
He can’t see me in my fencing mask. In fact, we’re both dressed in head-to-toe fencing gear.
Truly, we meant to, at the very least, pick out a proper dress and suit, but we ended up spending the past three weeks in bed, distracted by something much, much larger.
Neither of us care.
I wanted all my dear friends to watch us make complete fools of ourselves, and Zach made that wish come true.