His mouth was rough on hers, so much so she tasted blood, but she didn’t want him to stop. She came hard but he hadn’t finished with her. He carried her to the bed, both still soaking wet, and fucked her again, tugging her legs around his waist as he stood at the edge of the bed.
His eyes were drinking in her body, undulating with their movements. “Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he said roughly and Sunday breathlessly smiled up at him.
“Fuck me, River, harder … make me scream …”
His eyes were intense on hers as they drove each other towards release and he honored her request—she screamed long and loud as she came. They fucked long into the night, and only fell asleep as the dawn was beginning to break.
“I love you,” she whispered to her husband as they kissed and he nodded.
“You and me for all time now, baby. For all time.”
They explored the island and snorkeled in the azure-blue waters, seeing whale sharks and green turtles. Myriad colorful, exotic fish. They hiked into the lush, verdant forests and walked the long stretches of white sand beaches, but mostly, they indulged themselves in them. Rare was the moment they weren’t together, holding hands, kissing, making love. Even when they ate at some of the restaurants, they would sit side by side, thighs touching, feeding each other.
“We made it,” River said one night, and she could tell by the intensity of his eyes on hers that he was really feeling the relief of it.
“We did. And God, I’m so looking forward to what happens next.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. I wanted to ask you, again, just to make sure … the move to Italy. Are you sure?”
Sunday was surprised. “Yes, of course … why do you ask that now?”
“It’s just, I’m good. I can work anywhere, but I know you. As much as I know you love caring for me and Berry, you’ll get bored. That big brain of your will need to flex its muscles and the middle of the Tuscan countryside is hardly prime territory for investigative journalism.”
Sunday nodded. “I appreciate that and thank you for thinking of me. But I think I have it covered. The book about your father and you will keep me busy for a time, and then, maybe, when Berry is a little older, I can write another book and another …”
“Would that keep you happy?”
Sunday pretended to consider. “Okay, so, working from home, in the most beautiful place I can imagine, with my gorgeous, handsome hubby down the hall, all shirtless and covered in paint, just at my beck and call for some dirty sex … yeah, I think I can just about handle that.”
River laughed. “Well, okay then.”
She leaned over to kiss him. “Unless, of course, we have another little bundle of joy to take care of.”
His smile wavered a little. They had been trying for months but had yet to fall pregnant. “When we get home, maybe I should go for tests.”
“We should go for tests. It’s more likely to be me,” she said matter-of-factly. “With the shootings and all. God, how weird is that to say? The ‘shootings.’ Most people never even get shot once.” She chuckled and River shook his head in disbelief.
“How can you joke about it?”
“Because I survived. Twice. I get to joke about it.”
River sighed, stroking her face. “You’re amazing.”
“I had a good reason to survive. Two good reasons. We should call Berry later.”
“We should, but for now, let’s walk back.”
It was still light as they strolled back to their villa, but Sunday noticed that River seemed preoccupied. “Are you okay?”
He nodded but she could see in his eyes there was something wrong. He blinked a couple of times and she realized what it was. “Oh, River …”
River stopped, nodding. His color-sight had been fading fast over the last months, his untreatable condition, cone-dystrophy, robbing him of the brilliant hues and shades he had so loved for so long. Sunday’s eyes filled with tears. “When?”
“The day before the wedding. I woke up and the world was black and white.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
River smiled sadly at her. “Because in the end, it doesn’t matter. You and Berry … you’ll always have color for me. I’ve memorized every shade and hue of your skin, the deep chocolate of your eyes, the tawny and gold streaks on your dark hair. The color of Berry’s eyes. The way her cheeks get pink when she’s about to have a tantrum. I know those colors and, in my mind, I can see them.”
Tears spilled out over her eyes. “River …”
He drew her to him. “Honestly, baby … after what we’ve been through in our lives, this is nothing. You told me, months ago, that we need to see our reality differently. I’m putting that into practice, literally.”
“Don’t joke.”
“It’s like you said … they’re my eyes. I get to joke.”
She laughed through her tears then. “Ah, damn it, trapped by my own words.”
River grinned at her. “Yup, suck it up. Speaking of sucking … last one back to the villa goes down first …”
Sunday darted off before he’d even finished the sentence and with a holler, he chased her, both of them collapsing with laughter as they tumbled into the villa. As he swept her up into his arms, admitting defeat, she giggled. “God, I love you, you crazy man.”
“Good,” River said, dropping her onto the bed, “now show me.”
Berry ran into their arms as they got out of the car and they took turns hugging the little girl. “Have you had a nice time with Auntie Carmen?”
“Yes,” Berry nodded her dark head, “in fact, we agreed you should go on vacation again soon.” She giggled mischievously, obviously have been coached to make fun of them by a grinning Carmen.
“Charming,” River kissed Carmen’s cheek, “next time, we visit the s’mores factory right before we leave her with you.”
“Like she wasn’t high on sugar this time.” Carmen rolled her eyes and hugged Sunday. “You look glowing.”
“A week of sun, sea, and, um, snacks, will do that,” Sunday grinned.
“Yeah, can’t enough of the snacks,” River intoned, and they both giggled.
“Ugh, you’re so revoltingly loved up,” Carmen said. “Get in the house before I throw up.”
They were going to fly back to Colorado to finish packing up their home before the permanent move to Italy. River, though, refused to sell the place. “We need a base in the States,” he reasoned, “and I know a few people that could live rent free here … if they wanted.”
He was talking about Daisy and Aria—Carmen had already turned him down, politely—but when he put it to the two sisters, they looked at each other. “Um … actually, we’re going to be moving too. To your old haunt, actually, Sunday.”
“New York?” She looked surprised but Daisy nodded.
“To be nearer Sloan Kettering,” was all she said and River and Sunday nodded.
Sunday held Aria’s hand.
“Good, that’s good. Fight,” she said to her friend, who grinned.
“Believe me, I am,” she said, “I’m fighting this damn thing all the way.”
“Damn straight,” River said, “whatever treatment they come up with, it’s covered.”
Aria shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that, River.”
“It’s not up for debate.”
Aria smiled at him gratefully and then grinned at Sunday. “You know, if I didn’t love you both as a couple, I’d be fighting you for him.”
Sunday laughed. “Hey, if you could just wait until he gets too old and decrepit for me, which should be any time now …”
They all laughed as River gave them a hangdog look. “My loving wife, ladies.”
Sunday leaned over to kiss him. “Always, baby.”
Sunday was packing up the office which had become her second home over the past year when River came to find her. “Hey, snooks, you have a visitor.”
She was surprised. “I do?”
&nbs
p; “Come see.”
She walked into the living and exclaimed with pleasure. “Jack!”
Her boss from her old news station in New York hugged her. “Hey, beauty, good to see you.”
“What are you doing in Colorado?” Sunday saw a look exchanged between her old boss and her new husband. “Uh-oh … is this an intervention?”
“Kinda,” Jack said as they sat down. “Kiddo … I have a proposition for you.”
“Let’s hear it.”
Jack smiled. “I know you’re writing the book about River’s family, his past, that sorry excuse of a stepmother. I hear your publishers want it out to coincide with Angelina Marshall’s trial.”
“They do,” Sunday said carefully. She looked at River. “You in on this?”
Her husband grinned at her. “Just listen to the man, babe.”
Jack chuckled. “Well, we’re thinking … a five-part series. Documentary about the Giotto’s … and you. You must know, people are intrigued about you, Scanlan, what he did to you, why you gave up your life … and then found a better one.”
Sunday chewed her lip. “Jack … you know I’ve always been one of those journalists who doesn’t put myself in the story. I’m not … I don’t like the spotlight on me. I research and report the news.”
“Come on, now, you were anchor.”
“Because it gave me the freedom and position to do the stories I wanted to. I’m not sure …” she sighed. “River, what do you think?”
He leaned forward. “Baby … I think it’s a positive, great thing. I know we both said we’re past it all and the truth is … I don’t think you are. You’ve never broken down, never yelled, screamed, cried, or wallowed in self-pity. But you’ve also never said it’s over. Scanlan is still in your head. This, I think—I know—would be cathartic. And you get to tell our story. The truth. For us. For our family.”
Sunday was silent for a long time. “When do you need an answer by?”
“Two weeks,” Jack said. “Two weeks if we’re going to get it done by the time Angelina goes to trial.”
“Won’t they object to us telling things they’re hearing in the trial?”
“Most of it is in the public domain anyway.”
Sunday looked at her old boss. “Freelance.”
“Of course.”
She looked away from him and stared out of the window for a beat. “Cory’s family get a say.”
“Fine.”
“And we’re still moving to Italy. I can fly back and forth.” She looked at River, who nodded.
“We’ll make it work.”
Sunday rubbed her face. “Let me have some time to think. You’ll stay for dinner?”
Jack nodded but she could see he thought she would say yes. Both he and River looked excited about it.
Later, after saying goodbye to Jack, they sat with Berry and read her stories until she fell asleep in Sunday’s arms. Sunday kissed her little dark head. “Riv?”
River lay next to his girls, his hand on Sunday’s belly. “Yeah, babe?”
“If I do this, if I do the story … I might get a taste of it again, and that’s what frightens me.”
River frowned. “Why should it frighten you?”
“Because … because, Riv … we’re having a baby.”
She almost giggled at the abject shock on his face, then he whooped loudly. Berry woke up, grumpy, but her father wasn’t sorry. He hugged them both, and then they told Berry she was to have a sibling.
It was another two hours before they got an excited Berry back to sleep and then they returned to their own bedroom, River with myriad questions.
She giggled as he peppered her with a million whens and whys and hows. “This afternoon. I took a test about five minutes before Jack arrived and was waiting for it. I kept chickening out so I left the bathroom and that’s when you came got me. I finally checked it just before we put Berry to bed.” She stroked his face. “We. Are. Having. A. Baby!”
River held her tightly. “Oh, baby, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
She giggled. “You had as much to do with it as I did, you silly man.”
“I know.” He smoothed her hair back and gazed down at her. “But I have to say this. You, Sunday Giotto … you are capable of having it all. And you will. Do the series. We have nine whole months before he or she gets here. You have time. And when the little one is born, we’ll work it out between us. Your career was taken from you. Take it back.”
And looking into his eyes, Sunday knew what her answer would be.
Diving back into the world of journalism wasn’t as scary as she thought it would be and Sunday flew back and forth between New York and Tuscany to help make it the documentary. It aired just before Angelina was to stand trial and Jack sent over a video file for River and Sunday to view at their convenience.
They made time for it one night. Sunday, nervous about River seeing her work for the first time, especially on such a sensitive and personal subject for him, was stress-eating.
They watched the whole thing before River shut off the television. Sunday waited for his reaction.
“Wow,” he said quietly, but she couldn’t read his expression. He leaned forward and took a deep breath in. “Wow.”
Sunday put a hand on his back. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Baby, yes. Yes, I’m okay.” He looked up and she was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “You brought them back to life. My mom, my dad. You never even met them, but you treated them with so much respect, you spoke of them with so much love … Sunday …”
He gave a sb which was half a laugh too and they hugged each other. Sunday was beyond relieved. “It was my honor to talk about them. They made the human I love most in the world.”
River chuckled. “And now we’re making another one.”
He put his hand on her five-months’ pregnant belly. Sunday smiled at him. “We’ll tell him or her all about her grandparents, don’t you worry.”
“Have you ever thought of reconnecting with your own family?”
Sunday shrugged. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that it isn’t blood who makes the family. They’re happy in their world and I’m ecstatic in mine. It’s okay. There’s no bad blood, just different paths.”
River kissed her. “Mrs. Giotto, future Pulitzer Prize winner?”
She giggled. “Yes, Mr. Giotto, already-world-famous-award-winning-artist?”
“I’m going to take you to bed now, and I hope, I really hope, that all that popcorn you just demolished has given you a ton of energy.”
“And why is that?” Sunday was already chuckling as he pulled her to her feet and led her to the bedroom.
“Because I’m going to plunder that beautiful body of yours all night long.”
Sunday giggled as he buried his face in her neck, pretending to bite it as he kicked the bedroom door shut after them. He looked up into her eyes. “Hey,” he said softly. “I love you.”
“I love you too, big guy,” she whispered back, and then their lips were meeting and she forgot everything else for the rest of the night …
“Push, Sunday! Come on now, another long push and she’ll be here …” The midwife was gripping Sunday’s legs as she bore down, almost growling in her determination to give birth to her daughter.
“Come on, Mom.” Berry, now a gorgeous fifteen-year-old, ordered her stepmom as she held the opposite hand to her father. River, gloriously handsome with his salt-and-pepper hair, grinned at his eldest daughter. Beau and Genevieve, the Giotto’s two middle daughters, rolled their eyes at their dad, as they stood at Sunday’s head, Beau laying a cool towel on Sunday’s hot forehead. Sunday didn’t tell her seven-year-old that the towel was dripping cold water into her eyes. Gen, the quiet nine-year-old, noticed and she met her mother’s gaze and they shared a smile.
“Come on now, buddy,” River directed his words to Sunday’s groin. “Be good to your mom … and also, if you could change gender to be a boy, that would be great. I’m ou
tnumbered here.”
They all laughed, then Sunday gave one last banshee yell and the newest Giotto slid into the world and started to cry.
“It’s a boy!” the midwife said and for a moment, River believed her until the midwife high-fived Berry, who snickered.
“You’ll pay for that one, kiddo,” he said with a grin, but then was distracted by the midwife laying his newest child in Sunday’s arms.
“Congrats, folks. Number four. Sunday, you’re a hero.”
When they were back in Sunday’s room, Berry bore her two younger sisters off to the cafeteria while her parents took some time with their newborn. “She’s so beautiful,” Sunday said, marveling over the tiny perfection. “But we still have to decide on the name.”
“There’s time for that. Berry is already three pages into a list of names she approves of.”
Sunday grinned. “River, that child is so bossy.”
They both laughed. “How crazy is it that we have four kids?”
Sunday smiled at him, her eyes soft. “Who’da thunk?”
“Who’da thunk.”
She stroked his face. “Ten years, baby.”
River nodded. “And we’re still only just starting.”
“My vagina says we’re stopping at four,” Sunday said firmly, and he laughed.
“I meant, us, our lives. We’re only just beginning.”
Sunday smiled at him. “I know. And I can’t wait to see what we do next.”
“Me neither, baby,” and he kissed her until they were both breathless.
The End.
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Some may call it stalking; I called it lining up the woman I would tame next.
The Hottest Daddy Page 14
