The past two weeks since revealing my pregnancy to Stefano have passed in a whirlwind of change and heightened emotions. That very night, he insisted I move into his penthouse, his protectiveness over me and our unborn child already fiercely evident. Though I know his attentiveness stems from concern for the baby, a traitorous part of my heart can't help but wish this closeness and care was born from love for me as well.
Still, I can't complain. Stefano has been nothing short of wonderful, anticipating my every need and comfort. It's a bittersweet taste of the life we could have had if only things were different between us.
Now, we sit side-by-side in the hospital room, awaiting my first ultrasound. I fidget nervously on the exam table, the crinkle of the paper gown loud in the sterile quiet. Stefano is a solid presence beside me, his expensive suit and cologne incongruent with the clinical setting.
Dr. Angelina, the only OB-GYN in Sicily that Stefano trusts breezes into the room with
