Unconventional (The Manhattanites #4) Read Free

fiber of my body tensed, and I hated the feeling. Usually I was a confident man.
    “No…I can’t…I won’t. There’s no need or room for marriage in our lives.” She placed the palm of her delicate hand on Rocco’s broad chest. “If you want children so badly, you have my permission to have another woman carry your baby. Regardless, I don’t think I have much left in me to give to a child, not after what I’ve been through. Being a mom takes a lot of energy. You’ll need to raise that child on your own or with Luigi.”
    His tan skin illuminated with tears, flooding his face. He pushed his wavy, black hair behind his ears.
    My heart broke. I hated to see him suffer.
    “And Luigi, if you want to wed, take Rocco’s hand in marriage. The two of you can sign the papers. Nevertheless, my darling, it’s not going to change anything between us. I love what we have, but if matrimony is what you want—some lifetime guarantee—I won’t stand in your way of happiness.”
    Taking in what she’d said, I dipped my chin in acknowledgment but gave no reply.
    “I’m sorry, amore ,” she mouthed in my direction.
    Breathe. Just breathe.
    I couldn’t.
    Her refusal was as if I was hearing the doctor say she’d had breast cancer all over again.
    Out of the corner of my eyes, I only saw black. A sense of grave hopelessness washed over my optimistic spirit. I didn’t think it was possible to feel a chill in the warm sun, on that beautiful island, and surrounded by evergreen. Nevertheless, I did. As if we were in the Arctic, snow falling upon us.
    “Our happiness is with you, Jemma.” In a numb voice, I reminded her how important she was to us, and then kissed her on the lips.
    When her mouth broke from mine, she whispered in my ear, “Can we go on…with what we have?”
    I pulled back and asked, “What do you mean?”
    “The three of us, loving each other. Even if that means you won’t be calling me your wife or the mother of your children?”
    Alarmingly, my pulse skittered. Clenching my jaw, I realized we were making compromises about our relationship. My eyes snapped shut, trying to block out the truth that I wanted marriage, to see Rocco be a padre . Lying through my teeth, I answered, “ Sì , I’m sure.”
    I don’t have the heart to call it quits. Not now. Probably not tomorrow, either.
    “ Grazie , I love you.” Her slender hand slinked behind the back of my neck as relief graced her lips in the expression of a smile.
    Chest rising, inhaling through my mouth, I attempted to return the gesture but couldn’t.
    Sad. Pissed off. This wasn’t how love was supposed to go. Was it? However, I couldn’t see my life without her.
    Together, we faced Rocco.
    His nose shiny, red.
    “ Bello , can’t we just keep things the way they are?” she asked.
    “Give me some time to process this—” He turned into himself. “I don’t know what I want. But I do know I don’t want to be without you two.”
    A yearning of wanting it to work, more than ever, rocketed through me. Rocco was so vulnerable. He needed us, and we needed him. Didn’t Jemma see how we couldn’t live without her?
    As we watched Jemma head back to our private oasis on the beach, I slipped the diamond into my front pocket. The ring would never adorn dolce’s finger.
    The pain in my heart, as if I’d just been stabbed, made it hard to even look at Rocco. I should’ve stood my ground. But who gives their girlfriend an ultimatum when proposing marriage? I didn’t expect it to turn out like this. Such a disaster.
    The hand he’d been nervously biting started to bleed. I reached for it, giving him a squeeze.
    “One day this isn’t going to be enough for me. I want more for my life. I deserve it, too,” he said and hugged me.
    “I know you do, bello ,” I muttered. “I do, too.”
    We’d just said our piece to move on in our own life directions. Maybe not that day. Maybe not the next. However, someday, the notion of not getting married and