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to tell you something,” I start. I take a breath in and lay on my back to stare up at the ceiling.

He puts a hand on my belly. Slides it up to cup a breast.

“I like this,” he says. “I like a little more meat on you.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so.”

I sit up, put my pillow on my lap.

“What is it?” he asks, all serious when he sees my expression. He sits up too and takes the pillow out of my arms. He takes my hands. “What?”

I bite my lip. “I know it’s soon.” I don’t know how to do this. I’ve only known for a few days myself. I feel a tear slide down my cheek and turn my head away. But not fast enough, because he turns it back to him and wipes the tear away.

“Whatever it is, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out together.”

I put a hand to my mouth and look at him. What if…

“I missed my period a couple of weeks ago,” I blurt before I can chicken out.

His forehead wrinkles and he looks confused.

“I mean, I’ve been off anyway with all the stress for so long, so it wasn’t a big deal. Honestly I wasn’t even paying attention, considering.”

“What are you saying?”

“When I was out with Noah the other day, I picked up a test.”

I think he stops breathing then. His body goes stock-still.

“A pregnancy test.”

His throat works as he swallows.

“There were two in the pack and well, I took the first one and I thought it was wrong because…I mean, it’s not like…”

“What are you saying?

“So I took the second one and that one, too…”

“Scarlett?”

I feel myself crying now. Shit. It’s not that I’m sad. Not at all. It’s just so unexpected.

“I was at the doctor earlier today. That’s why I made a big deal of going into town alone.”

Cristiano’s eyes intensify their gaze on me as he studies me. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him speechless.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“Say it.”

I study him, search his eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

It’s quiet. Like dead silent. I stare up at him and he stares back at me.

“Cristiano?”

He blinks, shakes his head, exhales audibly and smiles. Shakes his head again.

“I want to keep it and if you’re not ready, I understand. I mean, I get if you—”

He laughs out loud, eyes so bright they make mine fill up with tears. He’s happy. He lifts me and hugs me so hard, I’m sure he’s bruised a rib.

“Oh, Scarlett.” He draws back to look at me, then hugs me again. “Scarlett. Fuck. Scarlett.”

“You’re hurting me a little.”

He softens his hold, looks at me again, kisses my mouth and pushes the hair back from my face.

“Say it again.”

“We’re going to have a baby.”

Again, he laughs, shakes his head, exhales, shakes his head. Then he lays me down, looks at me, at my belly. It’s still flat but he lays his hand on it.

“It’s early. I don’t think you’ll see—”

“We’re going to have a baby?”

I nod, still crying because his eyes have filled up too. He lifts me again, hugging me tight.

“We’re going to have a baby,” he repeats.

“Yes.” I’m surprised by his reaction although I didn’t know what to expect. “Are you…happy?”

He throws his head back and laughs before his expression grows serious again. He takes my face in his hands, kisses my mouth, keeps hold of me.

“Am I happy? My God, woman. Don’t you see how happy I am? How happy you make me?”

I hug him this time, sniffling a little. “I love you so much.”

He draws back and takes my face in his hands again, using his thumbs to wipe away tears. “No more tears, Scarlett. No more fucking tears. I love you and we’re going to fill this house up with a dozen babies. Fill it up with laughter again, like it should always have been.”

He kisses me.

The end

I hope you enjoyed Scarlett and Cristiano’s story and would consider leaving a review at the store where you purchased the book.

Keep reading for a sample of Requiem for the Soul!

What To Read Next Requiem of the Soul by Natasha Knight and A. Zavarelli

I drift in and out of sleep. My old bed feels foreign, too small tucked up against the wall, the deep pink gauze draping it too childish. I reach out a hand and touch it, remember how I used to like it. Used to pretend I was a princess in a tower.

Wind whistles in from the window I opened to air out the room. The curtain billows, filtering the light coming in from the lamp in the garden. I watch the shadows that dance on the far wall. Remember how I would do that when I was little too. I see figures there, ominous always. The branches of the tree outside make for an eerie gathering as my eyes close again.

I don’t know if I drift off for a minute or an hour but when I wake again, it’s because of the rain. It’s hammering the window. I need to close it, or mom will be angry. Water damage. Like she cares about the house.

I rub my face and untangle myself from the blankets to sit up. I’m momentarily dizzy but that’s always the case when I first sit up, so I just close my eyes until the wave passes. But then I hear an unfamiliar rustle then the window giving way as it’s pushed closed.

Confused I open my eyes and almost jump out of my skin at the sight that greets me.

There at the window is a figure. Tall and dark and wearing robes like the Grim Reaper.

But the Grim Reaper wouldn’t be worried about a little rain getting into the house.

I almost scream as it—he—straightens, turns toward me. I push my back to the wall.

The figure is in a black cloak with a wide hood pulled up over his head so the little bit of light coming in from outside doesn’t illuminate his face. The cloak reaches the

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