Page 79 of From Rome, With Hate

I nod robotically, digesting her words. It takes a few beats before I’m able to focus again.

“But I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am.” She clears her throat. “I mean, I was, but the doctor said it doesn’t always work. Everyone is different. I’ve been on the pill for two years and have never missed a day of taking it, but she said it doesn’t matter. There’s still always a chance.”

“Um.” I lift one of my hands to massage my forehead. “How far along are you?”

Twisting her fingers, she tucks her bottom lip under her teeth before looking up at me with hooded eyes. “A little over three months.”

“Wow.” I exhale, planting my hands on my hips. “So, it could be from our first time?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Maybe.”

I nod, still processing her news. It isn’t that I don’t want children with Julianna—fuck, I want as many babies as she’ll give me—but I never expected it to be this soon. Julianna and I have moved fast with our love, and I guess if I truly think about it, this tracks. But I figured we’d be slightly older than eighteen when it happened. I thought we’d have some years together before taking that step.

Our goal in marrying wasn’t to have children. It was to spend our lives together, ending our families’ generations-long vendetta.

How is that going to look now with a Capuleti-Montgomery baby existing in the world?

“Rome.” Julianna’s voice pulls me back to reality. She cups my cheek, holding my gaze to hers. There are tears in her eyes. One slips, sliding down to her chin.

I sweep it up with my fingertip before it falls.

“Look at me, Rome,” she pleads. “Please look at me.”

I do as she says, bringing my gaze back to hers.

“I’m telling you this because we have options.”

“Options?”

“Yes.” Her hand trembles as she lowers it back to rest on her stomach. “I’ve considered them all and?—”

“Lark, I?—”

“If this isn’t what you want, I understand,” she cuts me off. “You’re eighteen and you still haven’t been able to fully get out from under your dad’s clutches. There are probably a million things you still want to do that don’t involve me or a baby. But I…”

I realize what she’s saying. Her expression says it all.

“I want this, Lark.”

“You do?” Her brows knit.

“Of course, I do.” I wrap my hand around her cheek, threading my fingers through her wavy hair. “This baby is ours. Both Capuleti and Montgomery.”

“It is.” She sobs, releasing all the tension she’s been carrying, setting it free, her eyes welling with fresh tears.

“Don’t cry, Lark. Please don’t cry,” I tell her. “We’re in this together. We always will be, and I’ll be there by your side every step of the way, whether you want to keep the baby or not.”

She grips my arm, massaging it as she comes to terms with what I’m saying.

“I want to keep it.” She stares directly into my eyes. “I didn’t know how much I wanted it until I had it.”

I chuckle, pulling her closer until her forehead meets mine. We both sigh with relief, listening to nothing but the sounds of our breathing and the birds tweeting through the open window.

“Does this mean you’re still willing to marry me?” There’s a hint of teasing to her voice that makes me feel as light as I did before I walked in here.

I pull back so I can look into her pretty eyes. Fuck, I can’t believe we’re going to be parents in about six months. I don’t allow myself to think on the details, though, or how this will work between our families. How I’ll do everything in my power to make sure our baby doesn’t fall into the clutches of my father’s terror.