23. 23 – Caterina
23 – Caterina
A lessia is quiet this morning, no smiles as I carefully pick her up. Frowning, I walk over to the bed and settle on the edge. Behind me, the shower is running; the empty, mussed bedsheets telling me that Dante is already up.
My daughter looks up at me, her green eyes serious.
“Good morning,” I whisper, running my hand over her curls and watching them bounce back into place. “What’s the matter?”
I get no babbling conversation either. Instead, she slides her thumb into her mouth. “ Ba .”
As I study her tense expression, I wonder if she knows.
Today is the day we leave.
And in a rush, regret slams over me. I bend my head over hers, my lips pressed against her head as I breathe in the slight soapy scent that still lingers from the bath I clumsily gave her yesterday afternoon.
Behind me, a door opens and closes.
“You were right,” I say quietly, not turning around.
We only regret the moments we don’t have. And it tightens my throat, the thought of that time I spent when we first arrived keeping my distance.
I didn’t want to hurt her. Hurt myself. But now, with our departure suddenly looming, I despise myself for it. Because what we have had isn’t enough.
There’s a rustling behind me. Dante appears, a shirt hastily thrown on as he looks between us. He offers me a smile that fades when I don’t return it. “I usually am. About what now?”
“The time I lost us.” I shake my head. “How am I supposed to walk away from her again, Dante?”
She’s been moved so much . She lost Bea, lost Pepe. Matteo took her, and Amie took care of her. And now I’m going to walk away and leave her behind.
He exhales. His fingers dance in front of Alessia’s face, dropping away when she only watches him quietly, not grabbing for them. “You will not be away from her for long, Cat. Only as long as it takes, and we both know this will not be drawn out.”
Matteo will not wait to move, once he knows we’re back.
“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”
“I’m not.” His tone hardens. “I promise you, tentazione . You’ll be back soon. You’ll bring her home, and build on the foundations from this time. This time… it is not the only time. There will be more.”
He sounds so certain. He presses a kiss to my lips, then to our daughter’s head, before he stands. “Breakfast. Coffee. There is still time left. We’re not running out of the door, Cat.”
First, we wait.
Alessia, thankfully, brightens as we enter the kitchen. Her face lights up. “Ba!”
Stefano glances up with surprise. His eyes sweep across me, seeing too much. Or possibly remembering last night, judging by the way his lip curls into a small smile. I give him a tart look as I hand Alessia to him, and she immediately buries herself into the crook of his arm with an audibly happy sigh.
Dom, seated across from Stefan, leans forward, his voice coaxing. “Alessia.”
She turns her head between them both, before she opens her arms for Dom. He grins as he plucks her from Stefan’s lap. “Excellent taste.”
The smile fades as she claps her arms and points straight back to Stefan.
Dante doesn’t bother hiding his laughter as Gio walks in, his hair damp from a shower. “A new game, it seems.”
Dom sighs, and I bite my cheek against my own smile as I lean against Luc’s hip. He flips an omelet over. “Hungry?”
Not particularly. But I nod, pouring Gio and I a coffee as he presses a kiss to my cheek.
Breakfast is subdued. Alessia refuses to abandon her new game, so we get to watch Stefan and Dom work together to feed her scrambled eggs, yogurt and fruit in between passing her like a parcel as she laughs.
I scrunch up my nose at the yogurt. Ugh. I’m tempted to wash it out, but Alessia loves it. Instead, I pick at the omelet. “What time will your mother arrive?”
Luc sits back, fresh coffee in his hand. “Anytime. The pilot is on standby whenever we’re ready.”
My heart squeezes. “I’ll go and pack, then.”
Alessia looks up as I stand. “ Ma ?”
My heart. My fucking heart .
I hold out my arms. I expect her to turn away, back to her game, but she immediately reaches out her arms, and my stomach swoops as I gather her up. She pats my cheek as I turn to leave, but my eyes catch on Dante.
He watches us both, not masking the strain on his face.
It’s his last day with her too.
I tilt my head in silent invitation, and he’s behind me in a second.
I set her down on the bed, and Dante settles down beside her. As I pack some of the things I’ve accumulated since I arrived, I listen to her steady stream of conversation, the rise and fall of her unintelligible words as Dante murmurs back to her. I drink every sound she makes in, holding it inside me and storing it.
I’m coming back for you.
We swap rooms, Dante packing his own bag as she crawls into my lap and starts to explore my hair. And my resolve hardens as I watch her.
I will not fail her again.
When Luc’s voice echoes, Dante zips up the holdall. “Have you met his madre before?”
“No.” I consider what I know. “He told me once that she was… loud. Protective.”
And hopefully someone who won’t mind a small houseguest for a while.
We hear her before we see her. A loud, irritated burst of Italian meets us as we head downstairs, Dante and I exchanging looks before they come into view.
Luc’s mother has her son’s hazel eyes. They narrow on him, her finger up and pointing as we come to a stop. She barely reaches his shoulders, dark haired and elegant, and he holds up his hands as she throws up her own. But he’s smiling, a mixture of sadness and love in his face. “Ma ma .”
She points at him again. “Do not mama me, Luciano Aurelio Morelli. I can still chase you around with my spoon. You should have come home sooner.”
He agrees with a murmur, his arms wrapping around her. I catch her smile where he can’t see before she buries it under a frown. But there are deep circles under her eyes, and I’m reminded that she recently lost her husband.
Loss, everywhere we look.
She wipes down her hands before turning to us, shooting Luc an expectant look.
He clears his throat.
“Mama,” he waves a hand. “This is Dante V’Arezzo. And… Caterina Corvo. This is my madre , Lucia Morelli.”
She looks me up and down. “Your Caterina?”
I suddenly wonder with a flush exactly what Luc has told his mother about me. “ Buongiorno, signora . Thank you for having us in your home.”
Luc smirks at Dante. “Sì. My Cat.”
Dante’s look in his direction can only be described as withering, but he leans in to kiss Lucia on both cheeks. “ Grazie, signora . Your home is beautiful.”
She waves him off, and I stiffen as she moves to me. She eyes me with intent – as if I’m being judged.
And then she smiles. “Benvenuto, Caterina Corvo. My son speaks of you… often .”
Luc groans behind her at the teasing words, and I grin back at her as she turns back to Dante. To Alessia in his arms.
Lucia Morelli’s smile grows. “And you, piccola , you must be Alessia. You and I are to be excellent friends, I hear.”
Alessia takes her offered finger, waving it around. Lucia turns back to me, linking our arms together. She snaps her fingers at Luc, waving him away.
“Coffee, Luciano. I brought Alonso back with me, he’ll get my bags. You will gift your mother a conversation before you run away and leave me. Take the charming one with you.”
Both Dante and Luc start. I eye them, but they wither under Lucia’s expectant look, disappearing into the kitchen.
Nothing sends the fear of God into the men of the Cosa Nostra quite like their mothers.
I brace, but she only squeezes my hand. “It is hard, to leave a child behind.”
Straight to the point. “I—,”
“She will be here,” Lucia says gently. “Whenever you are ready, and it is safe. The staff will very much enjoy spoiling her, as will I. As a nipotina . It has been a long time since we had children in the house.”
Littlest granddaughter.
My eyes start to burn, and she pats my cheek. “My Luciano has a big heart, Caterina Corvo. Do not break it.”
There’s steel there beneath her words, and I shake my head. “Never.”
The others appear behind us as we enter the kitchen, and Luc introduces them to an impassive Lucia. There’s amusement there as she inspects them. “Quite a collection of friends you have, Luciano. And all very handsome.”
She winks at me as every single one of them flushes crimson. “Lucky girl.”
There’s no judgment on our unusual set-up. Despite demanding that Luc make coffee, Lucia pushes him into a chair and efficiently seizes control of the kitchen, tossing dozens of questions at us and somehow pulling together endless plates of food along the way. Alessia chews on a soft oatmeal cookie in Stefan’s arms, and Lucia cocks her head.
“ You . You are quiet, no?”
He pales.
Her voice softens. “You will introduce me to your mamma after lunch. Sì?”
“ Sì – of course. Grazie , sig - uh, Lucia.”
She nods, satisfied. I glance around.
None of us have a mother like this. Perhaps Gio did, once, and Stefan, with Iliana. Dom lost his parents as a child, Bea stepping in to fill the role. I never knew my mother. Dante doesn’t remember his.
I wonder if she knows that, as she fills our plates with food and drags personal information about our likes and dislikes from us without batting an eye. Perhaps she knew them, or some. Something tells me she did, and Lucia Morelli has decided to take us under her wing.
Starting with food.
As we get up to finalise our leaving arrangements, she’s already packing food into containers as Stefan lingers uncertainly, muttering about airplane food and poison .
Luc stops Dante and I on the stairs. “Are you comfortable? Leaving Alessia here?”
Dante looks to me. “It’s your decision.”
“I am. Your mother is a force of nature,” I admit. “I like her, Luc.”
He cups my cheek. “And she likes you. I think. But probably not as much as she seems to like Alessia. She adores her already.”
I think I’m perfectly fine with that.