Page 37 of Capo Baby, All Of Your Heart Will Do
“Thanks,” Noelle says, taking a sip.
“Mamma, Nicola,” I say, handing them the wine glass.
“Oh my, I’m so happy that we're having dinner on Christmas eve,” Mamma says, holding the glass with both hands.
“Mamma, it’s also Noelle’s birthday,” I say, sliding my arm around her waist.
“Oh my, I’ll make sure to get you a birthday cake,” Mamma says, resting her hand on her chest.
“We have to make sure to invite your friends,” Nicola says, smirking.
“Yes, I’ll invite my bit. . . uh. . . . friends,” Noelle says, the soft red shade spreading all over her face.
“Mamma, Nicola, we’re going to have a baby,” I say, kissing Noelle on her temple.
“Oh my lord, what a wonderful surprise,” Mamma says, moving her hand to her mouth, teary-eyed.
“Congratulations, let’s drink to the baby and that we’re here having a wonderful family dinner,” Nicola says, lifting his chin.
“Cheers,” Noelle says, lifting her glass to touch Nicola’s glass.
“To the Baby and Noelle,” Mamma says, touching the wine glass.
“Cheers,” I say, extending my arm to touch their glass.
We take a drink of our drinks, and I look at Noelle smiling.
“Baby, I’m starving,” I say, looking at her.
“Yes, I’m hungry,” Noelle says, nodding.
“Let’s have dinner,” Mamma says, walking over to the dinner table.
We have dinner, talk, and of fuckingcourse, Mamma shares stories of when Nicola and I were young.
I watch Noelle smile; her huge warm brown eyes sparkle, her face is flushed. She looks so happy and beautiful.
Later that evening, we go to my apartment, and I start the fireplace since Noelle loves it. We’re sitting on my gray leather sofa, listening to music.
“Baby, I love you, and I can’t wait to have you living here with me,” I whisper into her ear, rubbing her tummy.
“Oh Chris, I really want to stay here starting today,” Noelle groans, sinking her face in my neck.
“I know, Baby, but I need to talk to your Dad,” I say, rubbing her back.
Since I’m the Capo, I need to make sure that we have an understanding. I can’t allow Winter’s to think that he can make demands because I’m marrying Noelle; that’s not happening.
“Oh Chris, I love that song. I sort of my version for you,” Noelle says, giggling.
“Okay, let me hear it,” I say, moving my hand to cup her cheek, gazing into her mischievous eyes.
“Okay but promise me not to laugh because I can’t carry a note. So here it goes, . . . . .
Va Room
Va Room
Va Room
