His expression softened painfully. "Vee…"
"Just one year where I could pretend we were normal. One year of waking up with the baby. Feeding. Crying. Little socks everywhere." Her smile trembled, and then she looked away again.
Luca shifted closer. "Vee, if you do not want our child or children raised by Mum, you just have to say so."
She turned to him.
"I mean it," he said. "You don't have to accept it. I am quite capable of protecting my family."
"Luca…"
"I'd make sure everything they own is bulletproofed," he continued seriously. "The crib. The stroller. The toys. The little spoon."
Vee stared at him.
"What?"
"The spoon?"
"You cannot be too careful."
Despite the ache in her chest, she smiled. "No. It's the most logical option with your mother."
"It is not the only option."
"What other option is there?"
