Pregnant by Morning(51)

He returned her smile, and somehow it relaxed him. “Well, at least we already know we can live together without killing each other.”

He didn’t have to give her up. It was easier to picture her in Dallas if he forgot about all the reasons he and Evangeline wouldn’t work and instead focused on what would be great.

“I’ll let you cook. All the time. I have no problem with a man in my kitchen. It turns me on.”

Her thumb smoothed over his and for the first time since he’d walked into the hornets’ nest, he actually felt in control again.

* * *

Evangeline tucked her feet up under her and leaned into Matt’s warm chest. Finally, things had clicked into place, and he’d lost that panicked edge, poor guy. She got that it was a little rough to have something so life-changing dropped on you out of the blue. The adjustment was still messing with her, too.

Marriage—of course he’d want that, and she was still contemplating it. If he came up with a really good proposal, she might actually say yes.

There was a shock. She’d thought Rory had crushed the desire for marriage out of her forever. But Matt wasn’t like other men, and to him she was so much more than a broken voice.

“There’s a lot to discuss,” he said, and she nodded against his shoulder.

“First off, I’d like to talk about Monte Carlo.” Thankfully, she hadn’t brought it up yet. This way, it was practically a foregone conclusion. “The party is already in full swing but if we leave by Thurs—”

“What?” Matt tilted her head up to pierce her with a puzzled gaze. “We can’t go to Monte Carlo. Especially not to a party.”

“That’s where all my friends are. We can tell everyone the news, and of course I can’t drink any champagne, but you can have a glass for me.”

It would be a fantastic way to celebrate. Not exactly the kind of party Vincenzo and his crowd were used to, but fun all the same. Maybe someone would volunteer to throw her a baby shower.

“We don’t have to stay long,” she added. “A week, tops. Then I suppose we can come back to Venice until the tourist season star—”

“There’s no more Venice.” His lips curved up in a half smile, maybe in apology for cutting her off again, but the rest of his face was pure confusion. “Surely you’ve realized that. We’ll be flying to the States. We can leave as soon as you’re ready. Somewhere along the way, I’ll buy a ring and we’ll get married at my parents’ house.”

A little discombobulated, she frowned. “I thought we already talked about the marriage proposal. And there still hasn’t been one. Plus, I don’t want to go to America. I hate it there. You think the press is bad in Italy, wait until you’ve dealt with the gossip websites.”

“I don’t want to deal with the press at all. Unfortunately we don’t have that choice because America is where Dallas is and that’s where we’re going.”

“Dallas? You want to go back to Dallas?” The harsh consonants rang in her ears. She’d always known that was his goal, but things had changed. He had changed. And he’d said more than once he didn’t think he could go back yet. Monte Carlo was an opportunity to continue healing. “What’s in Dallas for you?”

“Dallas is where my family is, my job,” he explained, and his tone implied she should have already figured this out. “And that’s where I have to live in order to do it. Also, my mother is there. She’ll help you with the baby.”

“I have a mother.”

In a manner of speaking—she’d rather eat Brussels sprouts than ask her mom for parenting advice, and honestly, she might not mention the baby to her mother at all. Evangeline hadn’t darkened the door of her mother’s in a year or two. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility to keep the pregnancy from her.

“Your mother is welcome to come and stay for as long as you want her to,” Matt offered, and she tried not to gag at the thought. “But my mother will be involved. I want her to have a relationship with her grandchild.”

“There’s an app for that. It’s called Skype.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He flicked off her suggestion as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ll probably buy a house close to my parents. There’s a good private school in their neighborhood. How early is too early to get on the waiting list, do you think?”

“Matt.” He was babbling about something called Hockaday. It was like they were speaking two totally different languages. She tugged on his shirt. “Matt. I’m not moving to Dallas.”