King of Stars (The Next Generation #2)

52. Stella

Chapter 52

Stella

M y lids felt heavy, but my eyes were starving to see. To see my baby. To see my husband looking at me and our baby. But the first thing I noticed when I fully opened my eyes, after the plain ceiling, was that I felt empty inside.

Too empty.

“My baby,” I croaked, tears slipping down my cheeks.

“Right here, baby.” The sound of my husband’s voice made me explode with tears.

“My baby?” I barely got out.

Matteo came to stand next to me, but it seemed like it took him forever to get to me. When he did, he took my hand and kissed it.

“He’s healthy, baby,” he said, and he helped me sit up.

I felt a wave of nausea but pushed it aside as Matteo held my hand and pulled me closer to him.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Right here, Signora Fausti,” said a nurse who I hadn’t even noticed was in the room.

“You haven’t seen him yet?” I asked Matteo.

“I was waiting for you to wake up.” He wiped a tear from my cheek. “We were wondering what took you so long.”

As the nurse set my son in my arms, it was a feeling like I’d never felt before. It made me laugh and cry at once, pulling him closer to my chest, breathing him in like he was my air. He was a weight that rooted me to this world.

“He looks just like you, Matteo,” I said, fixing his blue blanket and gazing at his face.

And then…

His eyes fluttered open.

“He has the color of your eyes,” Matteo said, running his hand through all his dark hair. “Or will. They’re dark blue.”

The nurse came over. “He waited for you both,” she said, smiling. “That’s the first time he’s really opened his eyes. He recognizes both of your voices.”

“I’m so in love,” I barely got out. “So in love.”

After I had my turn to love on him, I handed him to his father. Matteo took him, looked him in the eyes, and said softly, “My son.” Then he repeated the words in Italian, bringing him over to the window, where the stars were out. But I noticed…Matteo wasn’t moving as fast, or as naturally, as he usually did. I thought maybe it was because he wanted to take it slow with his son, absorb every second of him.

“His name?” I asked, watching the two loves of my life as they bonded over the stars. I knew it was only right for Matteo to name him. I knew he would look at him and give him the perfect one.

“Luca. Luca Piero Fausti.”

“Luca,” I said, trying it on for size. “That’s perfect. So perfect. Luca is our light.”

Matteo turned around and slow shuffled toward the bed. He set Luca in my arms, and all I could do was just gaze at this perfect human that my husband and I had created out of love. I wanted to call Luca little, but he was a chunky weight in my arms, and I couldn’t get enough of his cheeks. I wanted to keep kissing him, holding him close, kissing him again, running my hands through his jet-black hair, breathing him in. Matteo sat next to us, watching as I couldn’t get enough of our son.

Matteo stroked the side of my face. “You gave me this gift, at the peril of your own life. You bled for me. You gave me life through his life. Our love in physical form. Thank you, my wife. My life.” He took my hand and kissed my pulse. “My wife and my son are the greatest honors of my life.”

I started to cry again, blubbering to Matteo about how much I loved him, and would never lie to him again, how much I wanted to live forever just so I could love him. He shushed me, kissing me, until Luca squawked.

We both stared at him and smiled.

“He’s not fussy,” the nurse said.

“Just like his papà,” I said.

Matteo made a gruff noise in his throat. It was a pleasurable noise, and I almost sobbed at the sound of it. I hadn’t seen him this peaceful since that day—the day mama told me I needed to be checked. The nurse suggested I try to feed Luca. Matteo slow shuffled back to the chair, gazing at us with such love in his eyes, it seemed to overflow and run down his cheeks.

“I will leave you to it,” the nurse whispered once Luca latched and started to suck. “You’re a natural at this, Stella. You will do fine. But I am here if you need me.”

“Okay,” I whispered, but my eyes were on my husband. “Thank you.” After she left, I asked, “Why are you walking so funny? That should be me.”

“Feed him in peace,” he said, nodding toward Luca.

I turned to our son, hardly able to look away, but after he ate and fell back asleep, the entire room seemed to fill up with family, who were all as in love with our son as we were. Nonno seemed more pleased than anyone else in the room, because our son had been given his name.

“Wear it well, Luca Piero Fausti,” he whispered to him. “It is a fine name. Wear it well.”

Our Luca would have fine shoes to fill, but I had a feeling that someday, he would.

After our family left, and Luca was asleep in my arms, it was just my husband and I, gazing at each other from across the room.

“Talk to me,” I whispered.

He gave a sharp nod and, as he rose from the chair, I noticed a bead of sweat drip from his temple, run down his face, and disappear into his white suit shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the Fausti insignia on his hand was as glaring as ever. He came to stand in front of my bed, as stiff as a solider about to spill his guts.

“You will not steal my sperm,” he said.

Luca made one of those beautiful little noises, and I held him tighter, right against my heart. I wanted him to feel and hear all the beautiful things I had to tell him, just like I used to when he was a part of me.

“I will not steal your sperm,” I repeated.

“ Sì ,” he said, as serious as ever. “And I will still be able to pleasure my wife.”

“Matteo, what are you—” Then it hit me, and I narrowed my eyes on his crotch. “What did you do?”

He told me then what had been done to me, and what had been done to him. If I couldn’t have more children, neither could he. He could get the surgery reversed someday, but that wasn’t a guarantee it could truly be fixed. But I knew it had nothing to do with surgery, not really. It was what he needed to prove to me as a man of his word and actions.

That nothing in this world could make him have a child with anyone else.

If I couldn’t have them, neither could he. I’d never brought up about his grandfather and what he’d done to create heirs, but my husband was so in tune with me, I didn’t have to.

And my husband would have peace, since the dark thing lurking inside of me couldn’t take on life and then steal mine.

And looking at my son, I knew Matteo had made the right decision. Without him forcing me to do it, I wouldn’t have. And looking into my son’s eyes, I knew I had to be there for him. Fight to be in his life for as long as I could.

But I also knew why I felt so empty when I’d first opened my eyes.

Part of it was because my son had been born, and I was no longer shielding his body with mine.

The other part was the same, but different.

I’d lost a part of myself that I could never get back.

That would take time to accept. But looking at my husband and son, I knew that somewhere, some night, I’d made wishes upon stars, probably when I was being escorted to and from the underground club, and those wishes were granted in the forms of Matteo Leone Fausti, and our son, Luca Piero Fausti.

I had them both.

Held them both.

In more than just my arms.

And that was more than enough.