Page 90 of Irreplaceable

I lifted my head. “I’m excited to watch you play.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, and I could tell he liked the idea of it.

“Yeah.” I lay back down.

“What about you?” he asked. “How was lunch with the girls?”

“Good. There’s actually something I need to talk to you about.”

“Okay.” He sounded hesitant.

“I don’t know what they do in Italy, but gender reveal parties are kind of a thing here in the US.”

“Oh god.” He groaned. “Please tell me we don’t have to do the colored lasagna thing.”

“What?” I cringed. “That sounds terrible.”

“I heard about it recently. And I had nightmares for weeks.”

I laughed. “No. Definitely no colored lasagna. Just a small gathering with some friends to celebrate the baby—and us.”

“And to find out whether we’re having a boy or a girl,” he said.

I nodded. “That too, though for me it’s more about getting together.”

“Can’t we just find out the baby’s gender from the doctor?”

“We could,” I said, tracing his tattoos. “But I was hoping you could meet my friends soon, and this would be a good way to do it.”

“Of course.” He perked up. “If it would make you happy, it would make me happy.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and pressed my lips to his chest. “We should probably start discussing names.”

“What names do you like for a girl?”

“Elizabeth for my grandmother. Lizzy for short. I think London or Sydney are cute. But I know there are traditions in Italian culture, and I want to incorporate them somehow if they’re important to you.”

“Thank you.” He took my hand in his, and warmth spread through my chest. The moment felt so much more intimate than if we’d had sex. “If we’re following tradition, and if the baby is a boy, our child would take the name of my father.”

“What was your father’s name?” Enzo had only ever referred to him as Papà. And while I could’ve looked it up online, I wouldn’t.

“Vittorio.”

I nodded.

He was silent for so long, I wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Finally, he said, “I understand that you might have names you would prefer…”

“Sofia is a beautiful name,” I said, referring to his mom. “Alexis’s eldest daughter is Sophia, but it’s spelled with a ‘ph.’ Pretend for a minute that we weren’t following Italian tradition, are there any other names you like?”

“Mariantonia.”

“That’s a mouthful.” I laughed, but then I realized he was serious.

“Mariantonia is my nonna’s name.”

Oh. Oops. “What about for a boy?”

“I haven’t given it much thought. Do you have something in mind?”