by Bethany-Kris
“But I love this house,” Tiffany put in, making Cella laugh.
Even Marcus chuckled.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked him.
“I love it, yeah. But it’s not just about me—”
“Except it should also be about you, Marcus. Not everything is all about me, either.”
“It is in my world, babe.”
The two of them stared at one another, unmoving.
He quietly added, “And if you said yes to this one, I was told any changes and designs would be done before the babies arrived. They’ll come home to—”
“A home,” she whispered. “Their home.”
“Yeah.”
His hands found the tiny swell of her midsection again. Everything was right.
“Is that another yes, then?” Marcus asked.
At this point, she wasn’t sure there was another answer she could give. He seemed to take great pride in making sure the only thing she could say was ...
“That’s a yes.”
42.
Marcus
MARCUS hadn’t expected the Quebec estate to be an almost immediate yes for Cella. He figured she would probably want to see the place first, maybe do a tour of the mansion and surrounding property as well as the guest house. Especially when his plan was to turn the place into both their home and her company’s office.
He had been warned how particular Cella could be when it came to searching for a place to call their own. Apparently it took her first husband nearly two years of looking before he found the house she wanted to settle into. The Rochester house she bought after his death had been more a necessity than something she truly wanted which was why she didn’t waffle long when it came to buying that property.
Nonetheless, Marcus expected some pushback.
Anything.
She surprised him by jumping into the Quebec estate wholeheartedly. At first, he worried that she was going to regret the choice to buy the property later. Maybe after the chaotic period of their life slowed back to a normal pace; when they weren’t constantly running for appointments relating to the pregnancy, counting down the days to a wedding, and now working on getting a massive mansion move-in ready by the time their twins were born.
It concerned him.
That was all.
Marcus quickly realized how silly his worries were when six weeks after they finalized the purchase of the estate, and he was able to watch Cella walk through the halls of what would become their home. It was like she knew every step; each one was comforting and familiar. She already had a vision and a plan forming for what she wanted, and the picture she painted took hold in his mind the more she described it.
He didn’t need her to say it.
Even he could feel it.
The place was perfect.
Everything they wanted.
All they needed.
Seventeen bedrooms. Ten bathrooms. There was more than enough space to add in the theater room he wanted. The indoor pool that had been integrated into the finished basement that also connected to the guest house through an underground hallway was great, too. Set deep in the middle of a ten-acre private, forested property that they planned to fence and gate in, the estate couldn’t have been more perfect.
Really.
They had left Tiffany with his parents while they made the trip to the estate only because it was late, they already had a long drive the next day back to New York, and Cella wanted her to get as much rest as she could. More rest was basically the same thing Marcus wanted for Cella, but he figured it was better to let her just do what she wanted. Especially when she wasn’t complaining about being tired despite spending the last two hours going room to room within the mansion.
“And?” came the familiar voice in Marcus’s ear.
Smiling, he replied to his father on the call, “She is ... in love.”
Gian’s dark laughter matched his own. “I figured she would adore it. The place felt very ... you and her if you know what I mean.”
“Really? I thought maybe once she saw it—I don’t know, maybe she would find things that were a problem. Instead, she’s just ... over the moon.”
To say the least.
“Even the pickiest women will have moments where perfect things are placed in their hands, and the only thing they can do is say thank you,” his father returned. “Congratulations, Marcus, you managed to do that for her with the estate. Your mother is dying to go have a look, by the way. Drop off a set of keys, would you? I’m sure we can afford a weekend trip to Quebec soon for her to check it out.”
Marcus nodded though his father couldn’t see it. “Sure, will do.”
“Tiff is great, by the way. Already sleeping.”
“Speaking of sleeping.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s late. And a four-hour drive back. It’ll be almost two in the morning by the time we get there. There’s still furniture in some of the rooms, and I’m sure the blankets in the back of the car will do us fine for the night. We’ll get up early and start the drive back. Probably get there around breakfast or shortly after.”
“First night in your new home?”
Marcus chuckled. “Is it our home yet when we’re not moving in for a few more months and—”
“It’s your home, Marcus. Take a good, long look at those halls, the walls, and every single room, son ... because, for the rest of your life, that’s where you’re working to return to each night. Those are the floors where your babies will learn to walk; the windows where they’ll slap their dirty handprints to the glass.”
“You think?”
“I know. Those walls will hear your love and absorb every word. So maybe it doesn’t look like it will in five months or ten years—it is still your home. The heart of everything in your life. You’ll remember how it started as it becomes what it was always meant to be. Watching it change and grow is the best part, I promise.”
Huh.
“You know,” he said to his father, “there really is something to be said for the way you’re able to say things, Papa. The right things. Especially for us, your boys. We appreciate it even when we don’t say it.”
The Guzzi brothers truly had been gifted with parents that made all the difference in how their lives, loves, and futures were shaped. Marcus was never more aware of that fact than while he was beginning his own life and forever with Cella, and his parents were there at every step of the way with the same support as always.
The same love.
It never changed.
He could hear the smile in Gian’s voice when he replied, “I know, Marcus. I’ll let you go. Enjoy your first night there. I doubt the place will ever be that quiet again. Take advantage. And give Cella my love, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoed.
It was only after he had ended the call he went in search of Cella within the large, quiet mansion. He was unsurprised to find her getting ready for bed in the room they had decided would be their master bedroom.
The bedroom, attached bathrooms and walk-in closets hadn’t been the home’s original master suite, but Cella liked how it was positioned. So did he, really.
It faced the front of the house with windows that overlooked the property. It was also set between large bedrooms on the same floor that she said would be perfect for their kids and allow them to be close while they were young and needed them at night.
Cella stood next to the ornate, four-poster bed that they had covered with two blankets he kept in the back of the car just in case. Canadian weather was hell in the winter, and one never knew when they might need something extra to keep warm. He kept supplies—like the blankets—in the trunk regardless of the time of year. It proved useful today.
With her hands flat to her stomach, and her body still while her eyes were closed, Marcus took in the scene with a curious eye.
“You okay?” he asked.
Cella didn’t open her eyes.
She did smile. “Yeah.”
<
br /> “What are you doing?”
“Feeling.”
“Feeling what?”
“The babies.” She did look at him then, eyes wet with unshed, happy tears. Love stretched his smile wide, matching hers, when she said, “They’re moving. It’s the first time I’ve felt it and known it was them, you know what I mean? It’s a bit earlier than when I first felt Tiff, but there was only one baby then, right?”
No, he didn’t know at all.
But he wasn’t the pregnant one.
“Come feel,” Cella said, waving his way.
Marcus didn’t need to be told again. By the time he had his palms flat to Cella’s stomach under her loose blouse, her face was back to the previous calm determination while she waited. He waited, too, not minding a bit.
But then he felt it.
Barely.
Not something he could describe well. It almost felt like bubbles bursting under the surface of her swell, as faint as it was.
Cella let out a quiet gasp, her gaze snapping up to meet his. “There—that. You felt it, right?”
Before he could answer, it happened again.
And again.
The two of them started laughing until Marcus leaned in to take a kiss from Cella while she looked as beautiful and happy as she did right then. He wanted to remember that second forever. How her face lit up with absolute joy as she stood in the room that would be theirs, growing their children and giving them life.
He needed that memory.
Forever.
43.
Cella
“THEODORE?” Jordyn asked. “You could call him Teddy as a nickname. Oh, but then what would we call the other twin ... What’s a good T name, Lucian? A strong Italian name to match Theodore. Catrina is so much better with names than me.”
“No one,” Lucian interjected, pointing at his wife from where he sat across the private church suite, “is calling my grandchild Teddy, Jordyn. Not even you.”
Cella had to press her lips together to keep the laugh inside at the way her mother glared at her father.
“Lucian!”
“What? I said what I said.”
“It’s a nickname.”
“It’s Teddy,” her father spat back. “Jesus, he’s not a teddy bear. Be done with it. No, Theodore is out of the question with that kind of nickname.”
“First of all,” Cella tried to say, “we don’t know the sex of the twins yet, keep that in mind. And you’re both only picking boy names like we might not need girl names. Still a possibility!”
They paid her no mind.
Mostly.
She was also lying. They did know the babies were boys but neither she nor Marcus had announced that news to their families yet. They would ... soon. Her mother was just very convinced that the twins would be boys, and she was not giving it up.
Her mother held up a hand, silently asking her to be quiet while she stared down her husband. “Well, if you’re the master at picking baby names, what ones would you choose for the twins? Theodore was just one, give me another. Cella wants the same starting letter for both babies, so give it some thought. I’ll wait.”
Lucian spluttered as he attempted to come up with a fast retort. “Well, I—maybe something in the family ... it’s Cella’s decision, Jordyn! We’re not picking her children’s names.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” Cella said, not bothering to hide her giggles any longer. “That’s what I have been telling Ma for the last two months.”
The playful glowers her parents tossed back and forth—while the hairstylist finished brushing out the soft, romantic waves she had wanted for her wedding day—had Cella smiling. While they had gone forward with a large wedding, because she understood that’s what was expected of Marcus being the last and also oldest of his brothers to be married, not to mention his position in his family’s business, she also wanted this.
Time with her parents. A private room just for her and them. Quiet. Moments alone, away from the rest of their large family and the guests. She didn’t want to be bothered by last-minute details or problems when all she asked for with this day was to be married to the man who had her whole heart.
No stress.
No worries.
Just love.
That was it.
That’s all she asked for.
And like with everything else, when she asked Marcus to provide something, he did it without complaint or even an issue. He made it look easy. She wasn’t silly enough to think that everything in their life would be as simple and stress-free as the last three months had been leading up to their wedding. Yet, she had the distinct feeling Marcus would still make every effort to try. He was that kind of man.
Amazing.
She was beyond lucky to say he was also hers. After today ... he would be hers forever. She couldn’t wait.
For most of the morning, Tiffany stayed and readied with Cella until one of the girl’s aunts came with cousins in tow to keep the girl entertained. Hopefully, they would keep her busy and clean until she had to do her walk down the aisle with her flower basket in hand.
Once Cella arrived at the church, it was her mother who helped her into the wedding gown that she had picked last minute because her bump kept growing so fast that it would have been pointless to buy a dress more than a couple of weeks out from the wedding date.
Her dress was perfect, though.
The color of pink cream over top layers of white tulle and silk, the empire-waist sat just high enough to show off her growing midsection while also being classy and appropriate for the day. The capped sleeves and the scalloped neckline that dipped low on her chest fed her desire for details without being overwhelming. Buttons made of pearls started from halfway down the skirt and closed the dress all the way up her back.
She loved it.
Truly.
“Cella?”
The call of her name drew Cella from her thoughts. Across the room, her mother watched her with a soft smile while the hairstylist began to pack up her things. She would need to move into the next room where another three stylists and estheticians were working on Cella’s bridesmaids—her sisters.
“Yeah, Ma?”
“There she is,” her father murmured.
What had Cella missed?
Her unspoken question must have shown on her face. Jordyn passed Lucian a wink and smile before saying to her daughter, “You were just ... very quiet over there for a second. We got worried.”
Oh.
Yeah.
“Don’t be,” Cella told her mother. “Today is the best day. I’m so happy.”
“Are you?” her father asked. “You’re not sad at all? Not about William, or even—”
“I went to visit him yesterday with Marcus after the rehearsal dinner. We took roses and stayed a while.”
She had a sad moment, then. Safe with Marcus. Today was not about that. She would miss her first husband for the rest of her life, and she would never stop grieving the life they could have had together and how his loss affected everything. But at the same time, she had found a new love and happiness with Marcus, and she was unwilling to let her sadness undermine the joy in her life.
They could both exist. She was the only person who decided which one could be present at any given time.
“Are you ready?” Lucian asked, smiling.
He didn’t ask because it was time for them to go downstairs, she knew. It was rhetorical. The same question her father had been asking for years every time Cella came to another pivotal life moment where she had to step up and make big choices. The kinds of choices that would change everything.
“Yeah, Daddy,” she replied, honest and open-hearted, “I am so ready.”
• • •
They had chosen a pastel pink and white as their colors. The church had been bathed in the hues with silk runners, bright bushels of flowers, and tulle strung between every pew.
Her father walked her halfway down the aisle, and Cella walked the rest on
her own. Lucian hadn’t been offended when she asked if he would mind allowing her to walk herself the rest of the way.
After all, choosing a second marriage really had been a decision that was all her own. She wanted to walk to the man waiting at the end with the same purpose and assurance that she was doing it because she absolutely, entirely wanted to. Not just for herself but for him, too.
Marcus met her at the end with a hand extended, waiting for her to join him. The second she did, the church disappeared, and it was just them at the end of the altar with the priest in front of them.
All the people?
Faces she knew.
Those she didn’t ...
They all faded.
“I love you,” Marcus told her as he cupped her cheek in his warm palm; their gazes locked as the priest began the ceremony. “Ti amo, sempre, mia bella. Always, Cella.”
He didn’t need to tell her. Not when he had already shown her time and time again.
But still ...
“Forever, Marcus,” she promised back.
44.
Marcus
Three months later ...
BETWEEN all his brothers, his father, and the other men in Marcus’s life who had wives that experienced pregnancy ... he had been warned there might come a time when his wife’s interest in him, and sex, could wane. Because that was to be expected. Growing life was an exhausting business. It took a lot from a woman’s body.
He understood that.
Yet, Marcus found that wasn’t the case at all with Cella. Or maybe it was just ... him. Because the bigger his wife became, growing their children inside of her, the more difficult he found it was to keep his hands off her.
She was beautiful.
Glowing.
The very definition of life.
If that wasn’t enough to have him constantly hard and panting after his wife then nothing would. Although, Cella didn’t seem to mind. Being pregnant with twins hadn’t stopped his wife from enjoying sex in the least. If anything, it allowed him to become a little more creative at times to make things work.
