The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 203 - Two Hundred And Three

Chapter Two Hundred And Three

Alicia’s POV

January turned into February. Winter in Italy was cold but beautiful. The countryside covered in frost. The villa warm and full of life.

I was twenty-six weeks now. Six and a half months. Lia was getting bigger. So was I.

My back ached constantly. My feet swelled. I couldn’t see my toes anymore.

But I’d never been happier.

Malachi was attentive to the point of being overprotective. He carried everything. Wouldn’t let me lift a finger. Hovered constantly.

"I’m pregnant, not dying," I told him one morning when he tried to carry me down the stairs.

"You’re carrying precious cargo. I’m being careful."

"You’re being ridiculous."

"I’m being a father."

I couldn’t argue with that.

Sophie was thriving. She’d enrolled in the local international school. Made friends. Started dating a boy named Luca that Alessandro thoroughly vetted.

"He’s a good kid," Alessandro reported. "Family’s respectable. No criminal ties. Decent grades."

"You ran a background check on my sister’s boyfriend?"

"Of course. That’s what uncles do."

I’d laughed. But I was grateful. Sophie deserved protection. Deserved family looking out for her.

The nursery was coming together. Signora Moretti had taken charge. Pale yellow walls. White furniture. Hand-painted murals of the Italian countryside.

"She needs to know where she comes from," Signora Moretti explained. "Half Italian. Half American. But always Moretti."

"And Blackwood," I reminded her.

"Yes, yes. Blackwood too. But mostly Moretti."

Malachi had been different lately. Quieter. More thoughtful. I’d catch him staring at nothing, lost in thought.

"Talk to me," I said one evening. We were in bed, his hand on my stomach as always.

"About what?"

"Whatever’s been bothering you. You’ve been distant."

"Not distant. Just thinking."

"About?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "About what kind of father I’ll be. About whether I’m capable of raising a daughter. About whether the darkness in me will somehow touch her."

"It won’t."

"How do you know?"

"Because you won’t let it. Because you’re choosing every day to be different. To be better."

"But what if it’s not enough? What if one day she looks at me and sees what you saw on those recordings? What if she’s afraid of me?"

I turned to face him. "Then you’ll show her who you really are. You’ll be patient. You’ll be kind. You’ll be the father you wish you’d had."

"I don’t know how to be that."

"Neither did your father. Neither did Pa. But you’re already different. You’re here. You’re present. You’re trying. That’s more than they ever did."

"What if I mess up? What if I’m too hard on her? Too protective? Too controlling?"

"Then I’ll check you. And she’ll check you. And you’ll learn and adjust. That’s what parenting is. Nobody gets it right the first time."

He pulled me closer. Carefully. Always careful with the baby between us.

"I’m terrified," he admitted.

"Good. Every good parent is terrified. It means you care. It means you’ll try your best."

"And if my best isn’t good enough?"

"It will be. I promise."

Lia kicked hard. Right against his hand.

"She’s strong," he said.

"She gets it from you."

"No. She gets it from you. You’re the strongest person I know."

"Then she gets it from both of us. Double the strength. Double the stubbornness."

He smiled. "We’re in trouble."

"So much trouble."

Valentine’s Day arrived. Malachi had been secretive all morning.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he helped me into the car.

"You’ll see."

"I hate surprises."

"You’ll like this one."

We drove for thirty minutes. Into the countryside. To a villa I’d never seen before.

"What is this?"

"Ours. Marco gave it to us for Christmas, remember? I’ve been having it renovated. Wanted to surprise you."

We walked through the empty villa. It was beautiful. Old stone. High ceilings. Large windows overlooking vineyards.

"The nursery would be here," Malachi said, showing me a sunny room on the second floor. "Master bedroom here. Guest rooms for when family visits. Sophie would have her own space when she comes home from university."

"You’ve thought of everything."

"I wanted us to have a home. A real home. Not just a room in your grandmother’s house. A place that’s ours. Where we raise Lia. Where we build our life."

Tears filled my eyes. "It’s perfect."

"There’s more."

He led me outside. To a garden that was being renovated. Winter now, but I could see the bones of something beautiful.

"I had them plant roses. Your mother’s favorite, according to your grandmother. They’ll bloom in spring. Right around when Lia’s born."

I couldn’t stop crying. Happy tears. Overwhelmed tears.

"Why are you doing all this?"

"Because you deserve it. Because our daughter deserves it. Because I want to give you everything I never thought I’d want for myself."

"I love you so much."

"I love you too. Both of you."

We stood in the garden. His arms around me. Lia kicking between us.

"When can we move in?" I asked.

"April. Before the baby comes. I want us settled before she arrives."

"That’s perfect."

"Everything has to be perfect. For you. For her."

We drove back to the estate for dinner. The whole family was there. Including Travis.

I stopped short when I saw him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Surprise," Sophie said. "I invited him. Thought you’d want him here. For family dinner."

Travis looked nervous. Sober still. Healthy.

"Is this okay?" he asked me. "I can leave if you want."

I looked at Malachi. He shrugged. "Your call."

I thought about it. About everything that had happened. About how far we’d all come.

"Stay. You’re welcome here."

Relief flooded Travis’s face. "Thank you."

Dinner was surprisingly comfortable. Travis fit in with the family. Laughed at Alessandro’s jokes. Helped Signora Moretti in the kitchen. Played with the children.

He was different. Genuinely different.

"He’s good with kids," Malachi observed.

"He is. I’d forgotten that about him."

After dinner, Travis pulled me aside.

"Thank you. For letting me stay. For not shutting me out."

"You’re sober. You’re trying. That deserves acknowledgment."

"I’m nine months clean now. Working full time at the rehab center. Helping other people. It’s good work. Meaningful work."

"I’m proud of you."

He looked surprised. "Really?"

"Really. You could have stayed in darkness. But you climbed out. That takes strength."

"I had good examples. You. Malachi. Both of you escaped bad situations. Both of you built something better. I figured if you could do it, maybe I could too."

"You can. You are."

"I want to be someone Lia can know someday. Not now. Not for years. But eventually. I want to be Uncle Travis. Someone she can be proud of."

"Keep doing what you’re doing. Keep being sober. Keep being better. And we’ll see."

"That’s all I can ask for."

After he left, Malachi found me on the terrace.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. It was good to see him. To see him healthy."

"He’s come a long way."

"We all have."

March arrived with warmer weather. Spring coming. The villa renovations finishing.

I was thirty weeks now. Seven and a half months. Lia was running out of room. Her kicks were stronger. More frequent. Sometimes painful.

"Only ten more weeks," Malachi reminded me when I complained.

"Ten weeks is forever."

"It’ll go fast."

"Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who can’t sleep. Can’t breathe. Can’t see your feet."

"True. But I’m the one who gets to watch you grow our daughter. Gets to see you be beautiful and strong and perfect."

"I’m not perfect. I’m huge."

"You’re pregnant. There’s a difference."

"I’m huge and pregnant."

"You’re beautiful and pregnant. And I love every second of it."

I wanted to be annoyed but couldn’t. He was too sincere. Too genuinely happy about the pregnancy.

"What if I don’t bounce back?" I asked quietly. "What if my body never looks the same?"

"Then it’ll look like it carried our daughter. Like it did something amazing. And I’ll love it just the same."

"You’re just saying that."

"I’m not. Alicia, you could gain a hundred pounds and never lose it and I’d still think you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Because you’re you. The body doesn’t matter. The person inside does."

"That’s very evolved of you."

"I’m trying."

The villa was finished in early April. We moved in on a sunny Saturday. The whole family helped.

Sophie claimed her room immediately. Painted it herself with Camila’s help.

The nursery was perfect. Everything ready for Lia’s arrival.

"One month left," I said, standing in the doorway looking at the empty crib.

"One month until we meet her," Malachi corrected.

"Are you ready?"

"No. But I will be."

"Me neither."

He came to stand beside me. Put his hand on my very large stomach.

"We’re going to be parents."

"Yes."

"Real parents. Responsible for a tiny human."

"Terrifying, isn’t it?"

"Absolutely terrifying."

But also exciting. Also wonderful. Also everything we’d never known we wanted.

"Malachi?"

"Yes?"

"Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"What you’ve been wanting to ask for weeks. What you’ve been carrying around in your pocket every day since February."

He looked surprised. "How did you—"

"I’ve seen the box. In your jacket. You’re not subtle."

He laughed. Pulled out the ring box. "I was going to wait. Do it properly. After Lia was born. When things were calm."

"Things are never going to be calm. Not with a baby. Ask me now."

"We’re standing in an empty nursery. This isn’t romantic."

"This is perfect. This is our life. This is us. Ask me."

He got down on one knee. Difficult with my stomach in the way but he managed.

"Alicia Chen Fonelle. You saved my life. You made me want to be better. You gave me hope when I’d forgotten what hope felt like. You’re giving me a daughter. A family. A future. Will you marry me? Will you make this official? Will you be my wife?"

"Yes. God, yes. Of course yes."

He stood. Slipped the ring on my finger. Kissed me.

Lia kicked hard. Like she approved.

"She’s excited," I said.

"She should be. Her parents are getting married."

"When?"

"Whenever you want. After she’s born. When you’re ready. No rush."

"October. After she’s born. After I’ve recovered. Small ceremony. Just family."

"Perfect."

We stood in the nursery. Engaged. Parents-to-be. Building a life together.

"I can’t believe this is real," I said.

"Believe it. This is real. This is forever. This is us."

"Forever sounds good."

"Forever sounds perfect."