Babies For the Billionaire

Part Five

© Birdy Stewart, 2013

Chapter Eleven 

- Areila -

I marked another space on the calender I'd recently hung in the kitchen and allowed myself to smile freely.

Three more days.

Three more days and I'll technically be Mrs. Rafaello Geovani.

The days were going by so fast, the wedding was approaching quickly, and my stomach expanded little by little as the time past.

Rafe refused to tell me where we were getting married, other than the fact that it would most definitely in a church. I only hoped he'd keep it small like I asked.

"So," Val asked as she flipped through my many cook books I'd scavenged over the years, looking for wintery desserts. "Besides the fact you have no idea what's going on at the wedding other than knowing I'll be standing in a beautiful deep red dress next to the alter, your soon-to-be, and your soon-to-be's aggravating best friend, and what you'll be wearing yourself, has Rafe told you anything about your honeymoon?" I looked up from the red hot Cheeto's I was eating and sent my best friend a nervous look.

"Honeymoon?" I'd totally forgotten about a honeymoon. We probably wouldn't have one, considering the circumstances. . . I shook my head finally, "I don't think a honeymoon was in the contract when I signed over my life," I said sarcastically, although there was a mix of sadness behind my voice.

"I don't know, Ar, something tells me you mean more to---"

"Tesoro, sono a casa!" Rafe's deep, rich voice sounded out over Val's and I giggled as the now familiar shivers ran down my back whenever I heard his soothing sound.

"What did he say?" Val asked before Rafe strolled into the kitchen in all his work-rumpled glory. He walked up to me, wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed the back of my hair out of a newly developed habit before pulling away and grabbed the handle for the fridge.

"'Honey, I'm home.'" I answered proudly, popping another hot Cheeto in my mouth. "He's been teaching me Italian," I giggled.

Sadly, that phrase is about all I could get the hang of.

Val eyed Rafe accusingly as he pulled out ingredients for a sandwich. As I went to grab another spicy hot fry, Rafe quickly snatched the bag away.

"This is more than enough proof that you're pregnant with boys," He accused jokingly as he rolled up the bag and placed it on the top shelf of the pantry, out of my reach, before turning back to his unmade sandwich. I frowned and bunched my eyebrows.

"I can make that for you," I insisted, knowing that today must have been another stressful day at work, but Rafe shook his head and pulled away the sandwich, grinning teasingly.

"No thanks, Cheeto Fingers, I'd rather not get any red flavoring on my turkey sandwich." When I pouted, Rafe only let out a hearty laugh and kissed my forehead. "Wash your hands, tesoro. I'll make us a small dinner, you look tired. You haven't been standing around all day, have you?" He accused and I shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I was perfectly fine with my hot Cheeto's. You've taken them from me and I fear I'll faint from withdrawal," I said dramatically, placing my wrist over my forehead and starting to bend back as if I were passing out.

"You'll live, cara." Rafe chuckled before asking, "Would you like to stay for dinner, Valentine?" I turned to see Val's reaction and watched as she shook her head and grab her coat off one of the island's chairs.

"No, I'd better get going. Here, Ar, I marked all the recipes I want to try this season. I'll see you in a couple days." She responded.

"You're not coming to the rehearsal?" I asked. Our wedding rehearsal was tomorrow, and then I'd just have to wait two more days after that.