"My eyes are closed, Mr. De Luca," his wife informed him in a cheeky tone, even going so far as to place one hand over her closed eyes to prove that she couldn't see anything. She could hear him scrabbling with the paper bag, and then with something else that she couldn't identify, assuming it was a container of some kind. Obediently, she opened her mouth when he told her to, wiggling her tongue in his direction before waiting patiently for whatever it was to be delivered.

What was delivered to her waiting mouth was a spoonful of something that was sweet and decadent and tasted vaguely like raspberry, which her mouth would no doubt soon identify as raspberry cheesecake.

"Mmmm ..." It took a moment for her to identify what he had place on her tongue as Elena's raspberry cheesecake, but the moment she did, Anya squealed with delight, swallowing hurriedly. Her eyes burst open and she threw her arms around Tony's neck, kissing him with a merry little laugh. "I love my husband!"

He laughed with her, happy to have pleased her with his surprise. He scooped up another spoonful of cheesecake and held it up to offer it to her. "And I love my wife!" he countered with a grin.

She wasn't entirely sure how he'd known she was craving something sweet, though her sweet tooth was not exactly unknown. The fact that she chose not to indulge that sweet tooth very often seemed to have made her cravings worse, but she hadn't complained. Wrapping her lips around the spoon, she savored the delicious confection with a happy little moan, leaning into Tony affectionately. "You are spoiling me, lyubimaya."

"I enjoy spoiling you, cara mia," he admitted with a soft, affectionate smile, watching as she savored the sweet treat he'd brought her. "I will enjoy spoiling you both," he added, including their unborn child, whether it be a boy or a girl.

Anya raised her head, touching her smile to his lips tenderly as she guided his hand to the smooth swell of their unborn child resting beneath her heart. Halfway there already, she was still as slender as anything, but there was no denying her pregnancy now. Both sides of their family had been overjoyed with the news when they had broken it, though she didn't think Tony was going to soon forget the sight of her father appearing on their doorstep to get him drunk and lay blessings on their first child. "As I will enjoy spoiling you both," she countered her husband's sweet promise, nuzzling close for a long moment. "Is everything prepared for the auditions?"

He returned her kiss, as she guided his hand to the swell of her belly where their unborn child was growing and developing. He rested his fingers against her belly, his touch soft and gentle, just as he was in everything. "Yes," he replied. "Everything's fine." But he didn't really want to talk about the ballet just yet. There had been a time when the ballet had been the most important thing in his life, and while he was still passionate about it, there was something else in his life that he loved even more and that something was Anya. "I missed you today," he told her quietly.

She wished he could feel the way their unborn baby responded to the sound of his voice and the weight of his hand against her belly. Soon, the doctor kept telling her. It was only a matter of weeks before Tony would be able to interact with the baby in the womb, but she was impatient for that moment. She smiled at his quiet confession, curling tighter into his embrace. "I missed you greatly," she admitted, just as quiet as he. "I do not like to be away from you, my dearest heart, though I know it is necessary. I must curb my jealousy of the women who will dance with you until I can return."

Tony smirked, finding his wife's jealousy both amusing and unnecessary. "They're only dance partners, cara mia. Should I take myself off the principals list until my favorite partner returns?" he teased, knowing she wouldn't hold him back from dancing, even if she couldn't dance with him for a while. "Besides, we have always done our best dancing alone, have we not?"

She stuck her tongue out at him for his tease, the tiny scowl on her face relaxing into a warm smile as he continued. "I have always loved dancing with you," she promised him. "No matter where we are, or who we are with. You are my perfect partner."

"I mean in private," he explained further, brushing a kiss against her cheek, his hand in gentle caress of her belly. "Will you help me with the schedule for next year?" he asked, wondering just how long it would be before she'd be able to dance again, assuming she wanted to dance again.

"Of course I will," she assured her husband fondly. "Though I do not think I will be dancing again until July. It will take time to regain my control." She smiled faintly. "But I am sure Rosita will be more than happy to babysit each night we are on stage."

"Then we'll have to do something special for your comeback. I was thinking perhaps a gala, or an encore performance of Romeo and Juliet. What do you think?" He offered her another spoonful of cheesecake, which was not even half finished yet.

"Mmmph!" She giggled through her mouthful, forestalled in answering by the not-inconvenience of being fed one of her favorite treats. No matter how often they told her, Elena didn't believe that she produced food that rivaled their mother's. Anya swallowed, poking at him teasingly for filling her mouth when she might have spoken. "I should like for us to create our own ballet, if we can," she admitted softly. "To find music that fits a story. I know we could do it."

"Hmm," he mused. He liked the idea, but he was no composer. They would have to either find someone who could compose original music or adapt an already composed score to some as yet undecided story. But he knew his Anya - she would not have made the suggestion if she didn't already have something in mind. "What kind of story are we talking about?" They'd already done Firebird, but there were plenty of other Russian fairy-tales that could be adapted for dance. He couldn't resist his sister's baking anymore than anyone else, and scooped a spoonful of cheesecake into his own mouth.

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," he reassured her, frowning a little as a little worry-demon made itself known in his head. "You don't have any regrets about being pregnant, do you?" he asked curiously, his gaze never leaving the chopping board.

Her smile softened as she watched him, understanding why he asked. "The only thing I regret is that I cannot dance with you," she told him, unfailingly honest when it came to this. "But we will dance again, and I feel very blessed to be carrying your child. I thought I would have to stop dancing long before we could get pregnant. I am happy to have been proved wrong."

"Our child," he corrected. While he was touched by the fact that she felt blessed, he felt the need to remind her that the baby she was carrying inside her belonged to them both. They had both had an equal hand in creating that life and would have an equal hand in raising it. "Our little ballerina or ballerino," he remarked with a smile, though there was no way of knowing for certain if their child would have any interest in or talent for dancing.

"Our child," she chuckled, taking the correction with good grace. But she had to turn his question around onto him now it had been asked. "And you, lyubimaya" Do you have any regrets?"

"Yes," he replied, perhaps surprising her with that answer, at least, until he explained further. He paused in his vegetable chopping a moment to look over at her, a small frown on his face. "I regret letting you go. I won't make that mistake again."

He had surprised her, concern forming a frown of her own as she looked up at him worriedly. Until he continued, and she knew that he didn't need to worry anymore. "I will never ask you to let me go again," she promised him. "Perhaps we needed that time, to understand that we cannot live without each other. But it will not happen again." She paused, hoping that had sunk in deep, and raised a brow above her faint smile. "That was not really what I was asking, though."

"Perhaps," he replied, though he wasn't too sure, not did it really matter. He had almost lost her not once, but twice, and he had vowed never to lose her again. A faint smile touched his face as she reiterated her question. He'd understood what she'd meant by the question, but had purposely answered as if he'd taken her literally to make a point. "Perhaps you should clarify then," he said, teasing her just a little. He broke a couple of eggs into a bowl and started to swish them together.

Her eyes narrowed teasingly in response, amused by his silly insistence on not understanding a very clear question. Tapping her fingers against her lips, she watched him begin the requested omelette before doing as she was asked. "Do you have any regrets about starting a family so soon?"

"Do you?" he countered, though to be fair, she had asked him first. He rummaged in the cupboard for a pan to actually cook the omelette while she either contemplated his question of kicked him for asking.

She laughed, rolling her eyes at him. "I have just told you my only regret is that I cannot dance with you," she pointed out, grabbing a napkin from the table beside her and throwing it at him. "Glupo chelovek, answer the question yourself!"

His understanding of Russian was good enough to know she'd just called him a silly man, and who was he to argue" He was only silly because he was happy and he was only happy because of her. Did he have any regrets about that' Not a one. He laughed as he ducked the napkin, plucking it up from the floor before moving to his feet and setting the pan on the stove. "No, pavlova," he replied with a grin, dubbing her a type of dessert, which just so happened to be named after a famous Russian ballerina whose first name was Anna. "I have no regrets about the baby. Or you," he added for good measure.

Anya giggled, shaking her head at his silly endearment. She didn't mind being equated with either meaning, so long as he didn't add onto it the scientist who tormented dogs to create his most famous theory. "Are you offering to eat me later, lyubimaya?" she teased him in response, batting her lashes sweetly as she smiled. This was why she was usually shooed out of the kitchen when he was cooking. She could be one big distraction if she concentrated.

"That depends on whether or not you want to be dessert," he teased in return, chuckling a little at her lash-batting. He dropped a pat of butter in the pan and turned the heat so it could melt. If he wasn't busy cooking, he might have taken her in his arms and made her dessert right then and there. "You realize you've already had dessert."

"I do realize that," she sighed, nodding. "It was wonderful. I do believe, however, that I forgot to thank you. Perhaps I should be the one eating you when you have finished rivaling your mama's cooking for your plump wife."

He chuckled again in amusement. "No one rivals Mama's cooking, except maybe Elena," he pointed out. "And you are not plump. You are pregnant. There's a difference." He poured the egg mixture into the pan and waited a moment for it to start solidifying before adding the vegetables to the mixture.

"Mataya tells me a day will come when I can no longer see my own feet," she told him with a grin. "You may have to dress me during December." Not that she would mind that so much, she thought. Any time with Tony was guaranteed to leave her smiling. She couldn't recall ever truly arguing with him.

"I think I can handle that," he replied with a warm smile, glancing over at her before looking back to the omelette he was tending to.

"I finished the front garden today," his wife informed him, though that had been patently obvious as he walked up to the front door. When he had left, there had been two trees, and a lot of turned earth. Now there were shrubs and flowers to rival Rosita's garden.

For some reason, that brought a small frown to Tony's face. Though he certainly appreciated the way the front yard looked, he wasn't so sure his pregnant wife should be doing the work. "I noticed. It looks nice, but....Are you sure you should be doing that?"

Anya smiled gently, understanding his concern. "There was no heavy lifting," she assured him. "I would not do it if I believed there was any danger, my heart. You and our child are the most important part of my life. I would not do anything to endanger that."

"I will be happy with a son or a daughter, but I cannot help wishing a little," his wife admitted, feeling slightly guilty for wanting a daughter above a son. "The little girl in my dreams has raven hair and green eyes, as beautiful as her papa is handsome."

"Should I wish for a blond baby boy then?" he countered, with a teasing grin back at her before he turned back to break the eggs into the bowl and beat them. "Do you believe in wishes, Anya?" he asked, out of the blue.

She blinked, startled by his sudden question. "I do not quite understand what you mean," she told him, not wanting to offer an answer if her grasp of English had failed her again. "Believe in wishes" How so?"

"Wishes," he repeated. "Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day," he sang quietly, his voice soft and smooth. He could have had a career as a singer, if he'd wanted. He was a De Luca, after all.

Anya frowned, not entirely sure she was following the conversation very well. "Do you mean that wishes on Rhy'Din come true?" she asked, a worrying thought arising in her mind. "Am I harming our baby by wishing?"

"No, cara," he reassured her gently. "I am just wondering if wishes really do come true. I wished for you to return to me for a very long time, and here you are. Perhaps someone heard my wishes and granted them."

"But we were in New York when we found one another again," she pointed out with a soft smile. "Perhaps it was your sister wishing for us while she was here." Anya's smile deepened with amusement. "She was certainly very insistent that I attend rehearsals for the gala consistently."

Tony smiled at the thought of that. He didn't have to ask which sister she was referring to. Of his three sisters, Mataya knew him best and knew how much he'd missed having Anya in his life. "I wouldn't put it past her. She probably set us up, not that I mind the outcome," he added quickly with a wicked smile at his lovely wife.

"She certainly was very smug about it when you told her we were getting married," Anya agreed with a giggle, spreading butter over a slice of ciabatta as she watched him cook his own meal. "Matchmaker Mataya."

"There's something interesting to add to her resume," he said with a chuckle. How many couples had his sister been responsible for getting together anyway' He wasn't sure, but he was sure there were at least several. Michael and Elena didn't count. The Nexus had taken care of that one. "So, when do we get a sneak peek at the little ballerina or ballerino?" he asked, changing the subject as he turned back to his omelet-making.

"I would not like to read her resume if she were to add all her little skills and achievements," his wife laughed warmly. "It would be a small novel!" She paused to take another bite of her omelette, smiling as he changed the subject. "Next week," she assured him. "We could even find out if we are having a girl or a boy, if we wanted to."

"Do we want to?" he asked as she slid his own omelet onto a plate before walking over to join her at the table. There were arguments both for and against finding out if they were having a boy or a girl, but he was more interested in what she thought before he shared his own opinion on the matter.

"I do not truly know," she admitted, her smile relaxing as he finally joined her at the table. "On one hand, it would be a relief not to refer to our child as "it" all the time. On the other, would we expect too much if we knew to expect a girl or a boy?" She shrugged. "I do not know which option I prefer."

"We'd know what color to paint the nursery," he remarked, pointing out the practical. They'd know what kind of clothes to buy and how to decorate the nursery, but the element of surprise would be taken away, and yet, they weren't talking about a birthday present, but the birth of a child.

"This is true," she agreed. "I am undecided, lyubimaya. I would like to know, and yet a part of me thinks it is cheating, somehow. Mataya did not know, and she and Max are delighted with Oscar."

"What's right for Mataya and Max isn't necessarily what?s right for us," he pointed out, reaching across the table to touch his fingers to hers, if only momentarily. "We don't have to decide today," he pointed out, though it was something they'd have to start thinking about the fateful appointment.

"I know." Her hand curled into his briefly, sharing that tactile affection with him without a second thought. "And you have not said if you would like to know or not. You are very good at not answering my questions this evening, Tony."

"It would simplify things," he admitted, fingers lingering a moment on hers before pulling away so he could eat his dinner. "What if we find out for ourselves, but don't tell anyone else? Then there would still be some surprise, as far as our families go, but it would make it easier to choose a name and get things ready," he suggested, though it was only a suggestion.

Anya eyed him in amusement, chewing her last bite slowly before setting her fork down and answering him. "That is still not your opinion of what you would like, lyubimaya," she pointed out merrily. "Though it is a good suggestion. And if our families do not know for certain, we will not need to worry about being forced to dress our child in blue or pink because of all the presents."

He shrugged as he cut into his omelette and scooped up a forkful of egg mixture. "I'm undecided, too, but it's a tempting thought," he admitted. "I was the kid who always found the Christmas presents before Christmas." But that was a very long time ago - before his father had left, before he had stepped up as the male head of the household.

Anya stared at him for a moment before she burst out laughing. "I knew you had been snooping!" she declared laughingly, poking at his knee under the table. "Elena warned me to keep your presents under lock and key last year, I am glad that I did!"

"I've never been very patient when it comes to surprises," he admitted with a light chuckle at her reaction to that bit of news, neither confirming or denying that he'd been guilty of snooping last Christmas. "I guess I'd just like to know whether we're having a son or a daughter," he explained with another shrug, as if it wasn't a big deal, though it obviously was. He'd turned serious again, but this was a serious subject.

"Then I think we have decided, dear heart," she said softly. "I, too, would like to know. But I like the idea of not telling anyone. Our secret, to enjoy. And the opportunity to tease your mother with some truly terrible ideas for names."

"Hmm, like Ivan?" he suggested with a smile that lit up his whole face. Tony was not one who was able to smile halfway. When he smiled, his whole face lit up with happiness. "Or Vladimir?" he teased further, though he was hoping for a girl, not so secretly anymore.

"Proserpina," she countered impishly, glad that they had come to this decision and were still smiling. "I love you, Tony, very much. And I like this idea. Your mama may want to strangle me before she finds out the truth, but it will be fun."

"It'll be fun knowing something they don't, for once," he admitted. He wasn't just talking about Rosita, but his sisters, as well. He knew how much it would torment them that Tony and Anya knew something they didn't. "I love you, too, Anya. You and the baby. I promise I will always love you and take care of you both, whether it's a boy or a girl."

"You do not need to promise such a thing, lyubimaya, I know it to be true," she assured him, the sparkling rings on her left hand more than evidence enough. "I very much look forward to seeing you with your children. It is the dearest wish of my heart to have a happy, healthy family with you at its head."

It seemed he'd been the responsible one for so long, ever since his father had abandoned them, but he wouldn't repeat the sins of his father. He loved her too much to ever hurt her the way his father had hurt his mother, no matter the reasons. "Children," he echoed with another smile. More than one. He wasn't sure how big a family they'd end up with, but he had a feeling this child was only the first, not the last. "I like the sound of that."

No matter how many they had, they would not repeat the mistakes of the past. Anya was certain that theirs would be a long, loving life together, filled with music and dance, and the joy they would share with their family ....not just the child resting beneath her heart, but however many would come after. They had promised one another, before God and their parents, and neither one was inclined to break that promise. It had taken them a long time to get here, but from here on, they would walk together, for as long as they had strength to share.

((Just a quick drop in on the ballet troupe owners and their impending bundle of joy! Lots of fun, as always!))