That morning, the very first moment Ava stirred, she felt something resting heavily against her stomach. The weight was warm and oddly comforting, but unfamiliar enough to make her pause. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open and looked down.
It was an arm.
Her breath caught as she followed the arm to its owner. She looked to her side. It was Giovanni’s arm.
Ava’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at him. But this stare was different from the ones she usually gave him, those glances that were quick, assessing, sometimes filled with playful mischief. No, this one was more subtle, more gentle. More caring.
She noticed a small cut on his lower lip and a slight bruise on the corner of his mouth, remnants of some altercation she wasn’t privy to. Her brow furrowed slightly at the sight, but eve
