Center of Gravity: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (An Ice Tigers Hockey Romance Book 2)

by Isabella Cassazza

“But?” Emilia smiles at me.

  “Winning the Cup made me happy, but holding our babies fulfills me. You fulfill me, Emy. You make me a better person. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for not giving up on us. You’re my rock, my shelter, my comfort. I didn’t know how real love felt until you came into my life and crushed through all my defenses.”

  “I love you.” Her eyes shine with happy tears.

  “Love you more.” I kiss her again, briefly this time. Before my courage falters, I do the one thing I should have done a long time ago. I sink down to one knee next to the bed. “Emilia Maria Federica Ravelli—”

  “Who told you that?”

  “I saw your passport and your birth certificate. But please, can I propose to you now?”

  She chokes and coughs twice, causing Luca to make little mewling sounds. Proposing with a baby isn’t easy. After she calms him, she looks at me again. “We’re already married.”

  “Legally, yes, but we never had a church wedding.”

  “Oh.” She slaps her hand to her mouth, and her eyes well up. It’s time to fulfill her dreams. After I found the photo showing her mum and dad on their wedding day, I knew what I had to do. I could do without one, but when she showed me the picture a few days later, there was such longing in her eyes I couldn’t ignore it.

  “Emilia Ravelli-Walker, will you do me the honor and marry me again? This time forever?”

  She looks down at Luca. “Should we marry Daddy again?”

  “What is his answer?” No sound is coming from our son.

  “He’s busy busting spit bubbles again.” She laughs. No help coming from Luca.

  Just then, the little princess cries out. Perfect timing. She’ll always want to be in the spotlight. “We have to ask her as well.” I walk over to the little bed and retrieve my screaming daughter.

  “Shh, little one. We’re not leaving you out. No need to scream down the place.” I bounce her a bit, and she opens her beautiful brown eyes, calming down. “There you go. So, my little princess, what do you think about a big church wedding in Italy for your mommy?” I bend my ear to her tiny mouth, pretending to listen while I hold Emilia’s gaze.

  “She thinks it’s a great idea, but only if she gets to wear a pretty dress too.” I wink.

  “We can’t deny her that, can we?” Emilia chuckles.

  “So you’ll marry me again?” I walk over to her bed and sit down, cradling Anna Maria in my arms.

  “Yes, Captain, I… we’ll marry you. But expect your life to never be the same again.”

  As if I ever wanted to go back again. My life was empty and meaningless before these three crashed into it.

  “I love you.” I smile at the love of my life.

  “I love you more.” And she might. But only a nano fraction of an inch. Or whatever the smallest measurement unit is. It’s not important.

  All I know is that I’ve just won a far more important prize than the Stanley Cup.

  A family of my own.

  Epilogue

  Emilia

  Four years later

  Rome, Italy

  “How fast can we have a new suit delivered?”

  I turn around, and my hand flies to my mouth. Laughter bubbles up inside me. “Oh my God.” I giggle. Once. Just once. It’s not a day for laughter, but my husband covered in baby spit while wearing his latest custom-made suit with an expression of pure horror on his face sure is.

  “Who was it this time?”

  “Stella.” He holds the soaked shirt away from his body with a frown.

  “What happened?” My eyes roam his ruined dress shirt and pants.

  “Lily had to run to the toilet again and handed her over while spinning around. And you know how sensitive Stella is.”

  I nod. Of course I do. The latest addition to our family has been our biggest challenge so far. We’ve been blessed with low-maintenance babies—until Stella. She’s a born Ravelli princess. Each of our little ones has their own unique personality, but Stella is extra special, and I wouldn’t want to change a single thing about her or any of the others. They are perfect as they are.

  I raise an eyebrow. “I think we both know what’s going on, but don’t say anything yet. They might want to wait to make the announcement.”

  He nods. “I’ll wait for Tyler to say something.”

  What would we do without Lily, Tyler, and Danny? They’ve become our go-to babysitters, but that is bound to change if Lily and Tyler start a family of their own soon.

  “Do you only need a new dress shirt and pants or a jacket too?”

  “Jacket too. I was in full armor when it happened. The jacket is in the bathroom. I didn’t want to trail spit everywhere.”

  “You’re going to make husband of the year again. Go take a shower. I’ll call Gianluca.”

  My phone rings twice before he picks up the call.

  “Ciao, Emilia.”

  “Ciao, Gianluca. I need your help. We have an emergency over here. Stella spit up all over Matt, and he needs a new suit and dress shirt. Can you make that happen?”

  “Little Stella? Well, who could be mad at her? Of course I’ll make it happen.”

  He doesn’t give me the opportunity to say anything but ends the call. Bless him. Where Matt is my rock in my private life, Gianluca has become the very same in my business life. Without him, the Ravelli Group wouldn’t be where it is today. He’s apologized a million times for the way he treated me, and he’s changed, a lot, thanks to my unintentional matchmaking skills. Who would have thought that Gianluca would be a happily married man one day?

  Matt returns with a towel wrapped around his body, giving me ample opportunity to take in his sculpted chest and abs.

  “You’ll have a new suit in half an hour.”

  “Good.” He walks behind me, and the view is gone, but his arms around me are a more-than-adequate replacement. I relax into his touch. A mistake. Because my rigid posture has helped me to keep my emotions together.

  “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” I brush away the wetness on my cheeks.

  “Yeah, you do. He loved you, you know?” He holds me tighter in his embrace. I’ll never get enough of his bear hugs.

  I snort. “He had a funny way of showing it.”

  “Some people have a harder time expressing it, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love you the same way or even more.”

  My eyes well up. Damn, if I start crying now, I’ll ruin my makeup, and the funeral of Eduardo Ravelli won’t be a private affair. Today will be all about appearance. He would have expected me to represent the Ravelli family in an impeccable way.

  I snort again. This time the tears are unstoppable. I might not have always fulfilled his expectations in life, but I won’t disappoint him today when I have to put on the perfect mask.

  The doorbell rings, and Matt drops his arms from me. I sigh. “I’ll get it. It’s probably your new suit. Don’t go anywhere.”

  I run down the stairs—thank God I’m not wearing my heels yet—and open the door. I take a step back. It isn’t Gianluca.

  Instead, the family attorney enters the villa. “Buongiorno, Signora Ravelli-Walker. I’m very sorry for your loss.” He shakes my hand, and I nod. I should be used to condolences by now, but my throat constricts anyway. Before I reply, he opens his mouth again. “I have something for you. Your grandfather wanted you to read it before the funeral.” He hands me an envelope.

  “Grazie.” I stare at the brown paper in my hands.

  “I see you later at the funeral.” He turns and leaves the house. I blink, unsure what to make of this encounter.

  Turning the envelope from side to side, I contemplate opening it right away and decide against it. Somehow, I know I’ll need Matt for what’s to come. The way back to the bedroom takes me twice as long, not because I have to mount the stairs, but because the letter feels like it’s made of cement.

  “What is it?” Matt jumps up from the bed when I walk thro
ugh the door.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Could it be the will?”

  I shake my head. “The reading is on Monday.” I play with the edges of the paper, crumbling them in the process. “Fitting, isn’t it, that even on the day of his funeral, he’s commanding people to do the things he wanted?” But I can’t help it, I do as told. One last time.

  Inside the envelope, I find a photograph and a letter addressed to me. The paper falls from my hands when I turn the picture around.

  “What is it?” Matt pulls my hand around. “Holy shit,” he mutters.

  “He knew,” I say with trembling lips, while Matt keeps staring at the moonlit picture in my hand.

  I bend down and retrieve the letter.

  Cara Emilia,

  I wanted to strangle you when the photograph you’re holding in your hand right now was brought to my attention. An American of all people!

  And yet you handed me the excuse why I had to send you away on a silver platter. Had anything happened to me back then, you’d not have survived a single day leading the company, and Gianluca—as much as I value his expertise—isn’t a Ravelli.

  I had hoped the two of you would find common ground. Instead, I was confronted with compromising pictures from Positano.

  Another hockey player, for the love of God! First, one takes my daughter from me, and then another one does the same with my granddaughter.

  He was the first man you showed real interest in, wasn’t he?

  Just so you know, I never saw myself investing in a hockey team! At least they wear suits on the way to their games.

  You might not remember it, but your nonna and your mamma were the lights of my life. Be grateful you found yours.

  P.S.: Matthew, take care of Emilia for me!

  Nonno

  I don’t know how long I stare at the page without seeing anything but the tears blurring my vision.

  “What does it say?” Matt brushes away the wetness from my cheeks and takes me in his arms.

  I choke on fresh ones. “He bought the Ice Tigers for me. He wanted me to find love… a love like he had with my nonna.”

  “He bought the team for you?” Matt shakes his head.

  I sniff and nod. “See for yourself.” I hand over the letter while tears run down my cheeks faster than I can brush them away.

  Matt shakes his head again. “But why threaten to sell the team all the time?”

  I swallow. “A Ravelli never allows personal reasons to influence their business decisions. No one would have believed he’d bought the team for reasons other than making the Ravelli brand known in North America. And showing any kind of weakness would have gone against everything he believed.”

  “How do you know that?” Matt whispers against my ear, while he comforts me with his big body. If I could, I’d crawl inside him and hide from the world.

  Instead, I pull back and say, “I am a Ravelli.” And I’m proud to be one today.

  “Holy shit.” Matt rubs his chin and plops down on the bed again. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. He really loved you.”

  “In his own way… and he liked you just fine as well.” Wetness runs from my nose over mouth. Where are the stupid tissues?

  “So, that’s why he always called the penalty box the naughty box and made fun of me every single time I got a penalty?”

  Matt’s voice sounds from behind me while I rummage through my purse in search of tissues. Laughter bubbles up inside me. “I had to stand in the naughty corner as a child. He did become a hockey fan, after all.”

  “I’ll never forget the video call after the second Stanley Cup where he and senior management wore Ice Tigers gear or the look on their faces.” Matt chuckles.

  “He took away their dignity making them wear anything but suits in the office.” I laugh out loud while more tears fill my eyes.

  Matt walks over to me and takes my face in his palms, bending down to kiss me. “I love you.”

  “I love you more.”

  “Debatable.”

  I give him a quick kiss and lean against his chest, letting my hand roam over his chest hair.

  “I’ll miss him,” I say in the silence.

  “Me too. Maybe not his stern look.”

  “You mean the one that made you feel like you’re a naughty child?”

  “No, the one that made me feel like I was half my size. Remember when I missed the last shot on the goal in game five last year? I swear to God, not even Coach Benning could have made me feel less like a hockey player than he did—with just one look down his nose.”

  “Thank God the kids didn’t inherit that.” My grandfather’s long nose might have fit in his face, but I shudder imagining it in one of the girls’ faces.

  “Good thing they resemble you.”

  “The best.” I wink. “But Alessandro looks like you.”

  Matt hums in my hair. Alessandro is his spitting image and may have inherited his father’s hockey talent, though only time will tell with a two-year-old. It doesn’t matter; we’ll support him no matter what he wants to do with his life.

  I look up into Matt’s face again. In my eyes, he has become more handsome over the years. He might have more wrinkles, but I love every single one of them. His face tells our story. The lines in the corner of his eyes from all the laughter we’ve shared. The lines on his forehead from worrying about me during the pregnancy and emergency C-section with Alessandro and from all the sleepless nights with Stella.

  Or the scar above his eyes, the injury that nearly cost him the ability to see me and the kids and the injury that ended his career for good.

  Four human babies, two fur babies, and three Stanley Cups. Who would have thought that possible?

  The doorbell rings again, and I detangle myself from Matt’s embrace. “I’ll get it. Let’s hope it’s your clothes this time.”

  “Yes, milady.” He mock-bows, and I fake slap him on the shoulder.

  While Matt changes, I check on the children and a very white-faced Lily. “You sure you can handle the kids?”

  Instead of her, Tyler answers while holding Stella in one arm and balancing Alessandro on the other. That man will make an even better father than the superb hockey player he is. “We’ve got this. You go ahead and pay Il Signore the respect he deserves.”

  I nod. Funny how the Ice Tigers called my grandfather “Il Signore” after his infamous first speech in their locker room—an event that he would repeat before every important game. Sometimes in person. Sometimes via video call. But always with sparkling eyes.

  “Remember to be at the mausoleum at five.”

  “Yes, milady.” Tyler bows.

  “Not funny, Tyler,” I say with the strictest voice I can muster.

  “You’re smiling now.” He winks.

  “Thank you.” I swallow. “For everything.”

  “No tears.” Matt steps around me. “Il Signore said no tears at his funeral.”

  “I’ll give my best.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “You ready?” Matt takes my hands in his. He’ll be right with me. Always.

  I shake my head. “But we need to go. See you later.” I kiss each of the kids and take Matt’s arm to accompany my nonno on his last journey—a journey accompanied by the Ice Tigers’ family and thousands of people in the streets of Rome, paying their respect to one of Italy’s last patriarchs.

  No tears, I repeat it like a mantra while our every step is filmed during the public funeral. Even in the end, he didn’t leave anything to chance but staged his funeral to perfection. I tune out the crowd and concentrate on Matt’s big hand around my smaller one. What would I do without him? How would I survive this spectacle? Matt might still think that I was born to represent, but he’s a lot better than me, holding his head high at all times—a Ravelli through and through.

  His calm strength is what keeps me upright at all times. Whenever I lose my head, he’s the one to talk sense into me or lean back and watch me trash some pots and c
ups until I calm down. Only then does he take me in his arms and tell me he loves me.

  When we arrive at the family mausoleum two hours later to say our private goodbyes, the tears I’ve kept under control reappear. We had a rocky relationship, but in the end, I can’t help but admire his strength. Everyone deals with loss in a different way. His was to hide his emotion behind a hardened surface. I respect that, even though it never was and never will be my way. Life is too short to withhold love from your life. Love will always be worth the risk.

  “I need a second. Wait for me.” I let go of Matt’s hand and nod reassuringly at him. Once he’s vanished through the door, I close my eyes.

  “Ciao, Nonno. I hope Nonna was waiting for you, welcoming you with open arms and a kiss. Give her one from me. Or two. And say hi to Mamma and Papà. I hope you’re as happy as I am. And… thank you. For leading me in the right direction when I had lost my way.” I take a deep breath before I continue. “I’m not going to lie; you weren’t always an easy person to deal with. But I already miss your stern look and voice when a project didn’t meet your requirements. Thank you for teaching me everything I needed to know, even if your methods weren’t conventional. I’m sure you’ll watch closely from wherever you are, and with you breathing down my neck, I’m sure I’ll make the right decisions. In the end, everything was like it was supposed to be. I love you. Until we meet again.”

  I open my eyes, taking in the impressive pillars at the entrance of the building I’m about to step in. Mamma, Papà, Nonna, and Nonno might not be on this earth anymore, but they will be with me. Always.

  Peace floods my heart. Peace and gratitude. And love.

  Because without love, I wouldn’t have become the person I am today. Without love, I wouldn’t have the best husband in the world at my side. And without love, I wouldn’t have had the strength to fight for what’s most important—my family.

  Inside the mausoleum, I take Luca’s and Anna Maria’s hand and kneel down beside them, hugging them to my heart, while Matt’s arms engulf us all when the coffin is lowered in the tomb.