BAZ AND I are having a girl.
He nearly did a backflip when Dr. Miranda confirmed it on the ultrasound. My first checkup was a smashing success.
Dr. Miranda is a young, petite brunette who I'm convinced would be a stellar assassin. She poked, prodded, and stabbed me with no remorse the first time we met. While drawing what felt like ten liters of blood to test and digging around my lady bit's like she was mining for gold, she scolded me for not seeing a doctor sooner. But I assured her the baby would probably come out wearing Birkenstocks and smelling like patchouli oil from all the organic food and grass-fed meats I've been feeding it. I was right, because all the tests came back perfect, and the baby's heartbeat sounded strong.
The last two and a half months have been an adjustment. Baz and I have lived under Gianni's roof like self-imposed prisoners as my due date looms near.
Gianni has been nothing but accommodating. Providing everything and anything we could need. He's nothing like Benny described. A ruthless monster, yes. But also very much a family man. I see the wonderful relationship he has with Baz, his daughter, and his grandson-Romeo Junior. It took weeks before Gianna could even tolerate being in the same room with me. I don't blame her. If I came face to face with the person who killed someone I loved, regardless if he was a cheating douche or not, I'd have done way more than just yell at them.
Everything I ever believed about Gianni Velona has been a lie. Benny pumped me full of them. I was a violin, and he played me perfectly. I loved him so fiercely once, but now my feelings are muddled. He pulled me off the streets and gave me a home. A chance, a future. For that, I'm still grateful. He made me strong. He built me up. And now it's my turn to do the same. I place my hands on my basketball-sized belly and gaze into the mirror. I'll make her strong. I'll build her up. I'll make sure she flies. It's my oath.
"Miss Stevie?" Frederick knocks on the bedroom door. "It's almost time. Are you ready?" He peeks his head in and sucks in a breath as I turn in my diamond-white, floor-length slip dress.
"You look ravishing, my dear." He enters the room and takes my hands. Frederick has become like family in the short time I've been here. Catering to my every need like he lives for it. But my favorite times are when we just talk. He's so paternal, thoughtful, and funny when he tones down the butler role.
"Thank you." I actually blush, feeling beyond feminine draped in the shiny material with a crown of fresh flowers sitting on my head.
"Master Benjamin's heart is going to stop when he sees you. Mine almost did."
"Frederick, if you're trying to flatter me, it's working."
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do. I have seen many brides, but you are by far the most beautiful."
"I'm eight-and-a-half-months pregnant. That statement might be a stretch."
"I don't stretch. It's the truth." Frederick picks up my bouquet. "The minister is here, and the sun is getting ready to set."
"Then let's not keep our guests waiting." I take the simple spray of white and light pink roses and link my arm with Frederick's. We walk through the grand house and out to the backyard, where a canopy is decorated in sheer white linen and blush roses. Beyond the manicured lawn, the sprawling ocean crashes against the shoreline. The air is fragrant with a mix of fresh flowers and sea salt, and the sky is just beginning to turn a beautiful shade of magenta.
I take a deep breath when my bare feet touch the warm, soft grass.
"Frederick." I stop him from walking.
"Miss Stevie, is everything alright?"
"It's fine." I smile up at him. "I just wanted . . . I just wanted to say thank you. For walking me down the aisle. It means so much."
Frederick beams, his creased face brightening with adoration.
"I never had a daughter, Miss Stevie. The pleasure is all mine." He kisses my hand. "Now, if I don't get you down that aisle, Master Benjamin is going to come up here and throw you over his shoulder. I would very much appreciate him not stealing my moment away."
"I would never let him do that. Besides I'm way too heavy for him to throw around." I rub my protruding stomach.
Frederick nods, and we begin our descent down the green pathway lined by lanterns.
Happiness is not a farce. That's the last thought I have right before Baz steps into view. I have to remember to breathe as I drink him in. His hair is pulled back in a tight knot, and he's dressed decadently in a crisp, white button-down shirt, navy blue pin-striped vest, and matching pants. He's the embodiment of a prince. My prince. Rough, edgy, masculine, beautiful. My perfect match.
We're far from perfect people, but we're definitely perfect for each other.