Page 63 of The Italian's Pregnant Enemy (A Diamond in the Rough)

He had always kept things neat. He didn’t like chaos. He experienced enough of it in his life. But Lyssia was a soft, pink sort of chaos, and he found that part of him could actually enjoy it. Relish it, even.

He found himself thinking often of their honeymoon. He had decided that after their wedding in Rome he would spirit her off to Tahiti. Take her to a private island and enjoy looking at her in various bathing suits. He would work on acquiring a collection of bikinis between now and then. Today they were having a bridal gown fitting, in his home.

And he had been ushered out of the room. As if it mattered. As if he shouldn’t be allowed to see her. He had said something about the fact that tradition meant little when the bride was already pregnant. Lyssia had slapped him on the shoulder and shooed him away.

And so he was standing as an exile in his own kitchen, drinking an espresso and wondering exactly how he had gotten here. He could recall that day when he had seen Lyssia in the chalet, and she had lost the entire contents of her suitcase.

He could recall, even then, the gnawing hunger he felt for her.

The way he was drawn to her.

And now she lived with him. Was marrying him.

She was on the verge of becoming... His family.

The word sat uncomfortably inside of him.

In some capacity, he had long thought of Nathan Anderson as a father figure. But there was a barrier. They were not family. Not really. Not truly. And now... Well. He and Lyssia would be family. Their child would be...

His heart felt like it had been grabbed and twisted.

He was having a child. A human that shared his DNA. Born of his blood.

He had lost his mother. His father had lost him.

He had not had a connection like that with another person in a long time.

Family.

Suddenly, and in so many ways. That traditional connection of marriage. That inevitable connection of blood.

And he knew that it was not simply blood that made a family. For if it did, the bond between him and his father could not have been broken, but it was. But still, it was a foundational connection, and one that forged a bond. It was up to him to not squander it. Up to him to do right by it.

He could figure out how to protect a child. But as much as he loved his mother, there had been no way for him to protect her from cancer. She had gotten ill, and that wasn’t his fault.

That was, perhaps, the deepest and most unresolved issue of his life. That his father had failed him so grandly, and he would love to put every failure on his father’s shoulders. But he couldn’t.

Because it had been something far beyond the control of men that had taken his mother away.

She had gotten treatment. In that sense, his father had done right by his wife.

He wanted to vow to protect his family, but how could he, when he knew that there were some things that were beyond control? How could he protect Lyssia when the world was full of accidents and illness?

She knew that as well.

The thought of all this made his chest ache, and perhaps what he resented most of all was how often this new turn of events in his life made him think of these things.

Lyssia had brought up the subject of his old name.

He didn’t even think it. He would never say it out loud.

A moment later, he heard voices, and the door to Lyssia’s bedroom opened. She and the dress designer exited.

“Are you pleased?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes shining bright. With the promise of what, he wondered. Was it a future with him that made her so happy? Or was it simply this momentary satisfaction of finding a bridal gown that she liked?

He found he wasn’t sure, and in fact, wanted to know.

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