Page 109 of SINS & Riley
She looks so unbelievably happy, if she was a piñata, she’d burst. Joy in every direction. Radiant in a way I’ve never seen. In a way she deserves.
And goddamnit, I will not take that from her.
Time to shift priorities. Fine. New topic. “What were the first months of pregnancy like?”
Asking for a friend.
Kennedy exhales, long and weary. “Rough. I was sick all the time, exhausted. But Enzo…” Her voice softens, warm in a way I’ve never heard before. “He’s been incredible. Doting. Draws me baths, won’t let me lift a thing. Tells me I’m beautiful when I look like the Bride of Frankenstein. Takes the girls so I can nap. He even reads to me sometimes, just so I’ll fall asleep easier. He even does all the voices for effect.”
I rest my chin on my hand, trying to picture it. “What does he read to you?”
“At the moment? Bridgerton.”
We both collapse into giggles at the thought.
“He even rubs my feet.”
I nearly snort a virgin Bellini out my nose. “The man rubs your feet?”
“Every night.” The sparkle in her voice tells me she’s still can’t believe it herself.
I can’t wrap my head around ruthless Enzo D’Angelo trading his Glock for a cucumber foot rub. “What else does he do?” I ask, half-fascinated, half-dumbstruck.
“Last week I had a midnight craving for gelato. And not just any gelato—spumoni. Cherry, pistachio, and chocolate. Baby wanted all three. Enzo ran out in the middle of the night and got it himself.” She shakes her head, laughing. “In the rain. Not a delicate rain. A torrential downpour.”
“Himself?” I ask, because the idea of him not sending one of his countless minions is almost impossible to fathom.
“Yup. He didn’t trust anyone to get the—” she actually air quotes, “—right gelato.”
We both laugh, and that’s when it hits me. How stupid I was to stay away.
Why did I?
“So… you love him.”
Her eyes glisten, her whole face lighting up in a way I’ve never seen before. “With all my heart.”
And I know from the way she says it, she does. And right here right now, it's enough.
Truffles hops on my lap, scratches at my belly and whimpers. “Do you think he's hungry?” I ask.
Kennedy relaxes back in her chair, eyes roaming my face like she’s seeing something new. “That’s so strange. For the first two months of my pregnancy, he did that exact same thing to me.”
Uh-oh.
I let out a small, nervous giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “He probably just misses the shit out of me.”
The little dog wiggles his brows up at me, resting his head squarely on my stomach. Crap. Between those big puppy, dog eyes and the tail wagging to a slow triumphant beat, it's clear as day.
He’s totally on to me.
I shoot him a glare. Don’t you dare give me up, little guy. Or I will cut off your belly rubs.
And where the hell were you a month ago?
I sidestep the conversation before it spirals. “Do you still dance?”
“Like a walrus,” she says dryly, rolling her eyes. “You should hear the girls giggle when I try to pirouette.”
