Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
When he said those words, it was like I’d been waiting to hear them all my life. It was like the final notes of a perfect song falling into place.
Once we’re done, I put the Stradivarius down and pick up my old violin. Giving it a shake, I say, “That’s weird. There’s something lodged in the string.”
Matt leans down when the small plastic wrap falls out. I watch him closely, the fading sunlight glistening in his hair, the soft smirk on his lips, the way his lips change shape when he sees the object inside the plastic wrap.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“I bagged it, so it isn’t gross.”
He picks it up, a shudder moving through him. For a moment, I think I’ve misjudged everything. Love, engagement, and agreement for the future don’t mean he wants this.
“I didn’t know I wanted a baby until I did the test,” I say, tears in my eyes, “but the second I saw …”
He looks up, and I see tears in his eyes, too. “I can’t wait to be a father,” he whispers hoarsely.
“You’re going to do an amazing job,” I tell him.
He stands up, pulls me to my feet, and pulls me into a deep hug. I hold him tightly. I meant what I said. He’s going to be so much better than my dad. Mom told me the truth two nights after the proposal, crying herself silly, but I forgave her.
I’m too full of love to hold a grudge, especially when she did it out of love.
EPILOGUE
MATTEO
Five Years Later
We sit quietly in the dimly lit concert hall, the buzz of anticipation filling the air. Our son tugs on my sleeve and leans in close, his wide eyes sparkling with curiosity. He looks just like Bella when she finds a rare piece of music she hasn’t played before.
“Daddy, is Mom really good at playing the violin?” he whispers.
I smile, glancing down at him. His question tugs at my heart. “Yes, buddy, she’s amazing. When she plays, she tells a story with her music. Every note, every movement of her bow …” My mind flits to so many scenes of Bella and Sofia playing together. “It’s all so beautiful.” I give him a nudge. “But you’ve heard her play before.”
He gazes around at the enormous hall. “Not like this.” He looks thoughtful momentarily, then asks, “Do you think she’ll be nervous?”
I chuckle softly, patting his hand. When he was born, and I held him, I couldn’t believe how small he felt. How vulnerable. I knew right away I’d always protect him. It was primal, instant. “Maybe a little, but she’s done this before. When she steps onto that stage, she forgets about being nervous. It sounds cheesy, but she becomes one with the music.” I’m sounding like Elio.
He nods, trying to understand. “What’s her favorite song to play?”
“That’s a tough one,” I whisper back. “She loves so many pieces, but I think one of her favorites is the one she’s playing tonight. It’s special to her.” It’s the same piece she played in that video she sent me, the one that tugged at my heart and my lust.
The lights dim further, and the start of the performance draws closer. I gently squeeze our son’s hand and murmur, “It’s showtime.”
He grins up at me, then turns back to the curtain, totally captivated.
As the curtain rises and the first notes of Bella’s violin fill the room, I see his eyes widen in awe. The world fades away, and it’s just us listening to the magic she creates with her music. At this moment, everything feels perfect, and I can see Jack beginning to understand just how special his mother truly is.
EPILOGUE
BELLA
Ten Years Later
“Shh,” I whisper when my husband walks up behind me, wrapping his hands around my body and pressing his solid muscles against my back. I gave birth to our third child just a month ago, but already, my man can’t get enough.
“Don’t worry. I don’t want to spook them either.”
I laugh softly and lean against my husband with so much love in my heart that I honestly think I might burst sometimes—erupt into a ball of music and love. Sitting next to the pool, Sofia and Biance are playing their violins. Our five-year-old daughter holds her little one with so much poise that tears fill my eyes.
I don’t sob, but my man can always sense my mood. Every year that passes, it’s like we learn more about each other on an even deeper level. He leans down and gently kisses my neck, stirring parts of me I haven’t felt since Krissy’s birth.
“You’ve made her so confident,” he whispers. “I could never imagine Sofia like that before you, my love, came along.”
I sink against him, letting my hands move over his, smiling when I hear Mom and Jack laughing from the next room. Krissy makes a noise on the baby monitor, one of her adorable babbly noises that aren’t quite words or song notes but something even more beautiful in between.