The morning after the wedding dawned golden and lazy, as if the sun itself knew we deserved to rest. I woke up in Marco's cabin—our cabin—with my body sore from so much dancing and my heart so full it felt like it might overflow.
Marco was still sleeping beside me, a heavy arm draped over my belly, his breathing slow and deep. I lay there, watching him, feeling the girls kick softly, as if they too were celebrating.
"If you keep staring at me like that, I'll think you're a ghost," he murmured without opening his eyes.
"Already awake?"
"For a while. Just enjoying."
"Enjoying what?"
"The view." He opened his eyes and smiled, that lazy smile I loved. "My pregnant wife in my bed. There's no better view."
I kissed him slowly, tasting the future.
Two hours later, we were at the cabin doo
