The Pawns that Gleam [Bk 3]

ch.21 Always Angie

The door crept opened carefully. Grandma was grinning from ear to ear, creating even more creases in her soft, cake batter-like skin.  She took an eager step toward me and Harry, but Harry didn't dare turn his attention away from me. He pressed his lips to mine once more and whispered "thank you."

I looked up into his eyes and those little globes were ever-bright now, I just wanted to take that golden light and tuck it away in my heart so that it could keep me warm and safe.

"You're welcome" I nodded, tracing his dimples down his grin line. I hoped our baby had his dimples because a man with dimples was charming, but a baby with them was beyond adorable.

Harry turned to face my grandma. He rested his arm at my waist, even more protective and possessive and loving than in the past three, almost four years we've been together. He stood proud and tall, already beating out a great chunk of expecting fathers that left their girlfriends or their lovers or whoever they had gotten pregnant.

Being commited to one woman and one woman alone was probably one of the hardest things a man learns in his lifetime. It requires maturity and nobility and devotion, but more importantly a precision in that devotion.

Harry practically sweated that devotion and maturity and especially the nobility. He was a king, not just a knight. And I was his queen and now we were going to have a pawn. 

We both faced my grandma with her hands clasped tightly, eagerly waiting to fatten me up to her heart's content.

"Come, i miei figli, my children. I will make you both a nice dinner" she smiled and tugged at my wrist, knowing she was going to make sure I gained a good twenty pounds tonight.

My stomach clenched again, but out of nervousness. I wondered if it would clench twice as much once I could feel my baby. If that was the case, Harry would have to get used to holding me all the time (not that he didn't already like doing that).

And I may have thrown up everything that had been in the stomach from the past few days, but I was far from devouring another meal from my grandmother who seemed to me a hearty cook (aka one who would give me and Harry heart and cholesterol problems).

"I'm fine, thanks" I mumbled.

"Psh" grandma laughed loudly. Clearly, she had never heard of a pregnant woman who was not hungry. She took my wrist and led me downstairs. 

"I can feel your ribs, amare" she shook her head and patted my waist disappointedly. "But, I will feed you the juciest ribs to help fill you up" she winked. 

I sighed hopelessly. I was going to leave having eaten every Italian and maybe even Afghan delicacy under the sun.

Harry laughed and followed us down the steps. His dark curls bounced, flopping around on his forehead.  I touched my stomach. I hoped our baby would have his curls.

Harry grinned, letting his dimples slip through. I also hoped he/she had his dimples. 

Harry jumped off the last step and ran to my side. He tugged gently at my wrist, making me twirl a few times before pulling me to him, fitting my back to his chest. He held my hands in his and wrapped his arms around my waist, intertwining them like a pretzel.

Pretzel...I want something salty right now...

Again, I hoped our baby was just like him, our little boy was just like him and even if it was a girl, I wanted her to be brave and green-eyed and dimpled and charming like Harry. I hoped all our babies would have his loving, caring, teasing, charming, protective personality. 

"Let's get some food to our baby" he grinned and he patted my stomach.

Grandma led us back to the market place we had met her in and she described how to pick watermelons (you have to hold them to your ear and tap them) and which meats were tender and which ones were probably chemically preserved. She seemed to know most everything about food, about everything in general.