“No wine,” I said, shaking my head at the waiter who had offered me a glass of Afterglow for the fifth time tonight.
If he kept coming over and I kept refusing, Constantino would know that something was up before I told him.
Laila had ushered us out of the house in a very obvious production fifty minutes ago. And while Constantino kept up the nice small talk, he still seemed as distant as he had after we left Italy a couple of weeks ago.
obvious “So,” I finally said, nerves bubbling up inside me, “are you excited?”
“About?”
“The baby.”
Constantino smiled. “I am.”
“I know that Laila wants more kids after this one,” I whispered, cutting my steak and avoiding eye contact with him. “But do you? You seemed a bit distracted while we shopped for baby clothes today.”
“I’ve been dealing wit
