Twelve
Matteo
S unday dinners with my aunt and uncle have become a ritual, one I didn’t realize I needed until Amelia came into my life.
These nights ground me. They're the eye of the storm—safe, steady, and everything I didn’t know I was missing.
The kind of foundation I want Amelia to grow up on.
The kind I had. She sits in her highchair beside me, mashing penne into tomato sauce like it’s a finger-painting project.
Her pink dress is now streaked orange, but I don’t care. She’s happy. That’s what matters.
Across the table, Dante stabs a piece of eggplant parm and eyes me. “So…you had Daniel Peters invite Amelia’s mother to the party?”
“Yeah.” I lean back, trying not to sound defensive. “I asked him to. Figured it was smart to include Willow. She’s Amelia’s biological mother. If she’s serious about being involved, I don’t want to shut the door on co-parenting.”
“I’m proud of you,” Aunt Rebecca says gently. “You’ve handled this with more grace than most would.”
“I’m flying her out and putting her up at the Fairmont,” I add. “Maybe if I spend a little time with her, I’ll actually remember who she is. It’d be awful if Amelia ever asked about her mom and I couldn’t even describe the woman.”
“She might never ask,” Gianna says with a shrug.
“Or maybe she’ll just care that her mom showed up,” I reply. “Kids don’t need perfection. They need presence.”
As if on cue, Amelia lets out a delighted squeal and hurls a tomato-drenched noodle to the floor like she’s just won a battle. The mess is impressive, but her joy is undeniable.
Gianna glances at me. “What about Ellory?”
I blow out a slow breath. “She’s invited. I’m not pushing, but yeah…I hope she comes. She might not know a lot of people, so keep an eye out, would you?”
Gianna snorts into her wine. “Ellory had a life, long before you showed up with your brooding charm and surprise toddler. She’s been running Olivier for years. If someone in this city hasn’t met her, they’ve at least bought something from her.”
I laugh. “Fair. But let’s be real. Before Christmas, she wasn’t exactly racing to join a ready-made family. Things have changed, yeah…but now, with Willow coming back into the picture, it might feel like too much too fast. I don’t want Ellory to get spooked.”
“I like this one,” I add quietly.
Rebecca reaches across the table and rests her hand over mine. “We’ll make sure Ellory feels welcome. And we’ll help keep Willow grounded. Seeing Amelia like this, happy, thriving… It’ll hit her. Relief, sure. But probably a lot of regret too.”
I nod, jaw tight. “Best case? She leaves San Francisco ready to sign away custody. I can’t trust someone who lets me find out about my daughter from a doorman and then dumps her off like she’s returning something that doesn’t fit right. Thank God he was a stand-up guy.”
Gianna leans forward, voice steady. “Everything’s going to work out. Just have a little faith.”
I nod again, slower this time. I want to believe her. I need to.
But this week? It’s either going to be a graceful symphony or a goddamn fireworks finale.
And right now, I have no idea which.
Amelia squeals, and we all laugh.
Rebecca clears her throat, her fingers shaking as she sets a stack of worn envelopes tied together with a faded blue ribbon on the table.
“I need to tell you all something,” she says, her voice catching. “When Henry and I moved into this house, we were so busy taking care of you kids. It was crazy. All of us were dealing with the grief of your parents’ accident.
Dante smiles at her. “And you both did a great job.”
“You may not feel this way after I tell you this.” She looks at Henry, and he nods for her to continue.
“I found these not long after we moved in. They were tucked away. I put the ribbon on them. They were stacked in her closet. I didn’t read them.
I thought they were your father’s love letters to your mother.
I…I just put them aside. But now—” She swallows hard.
“I pulled them out so you could see how your parents were so in love. But these aren’t what I thought they were. ”
The edges of the envelopes are soft with age. Marie, my mother’s name is written in a hand that makes my chest ache. Rebecca pushes them toward us, tears swimming in her eyes.
“They’re not from your father,” she whispers.
“He writes about how beautiful she looked in her blue dress, how he thought of her often. But then…they get darker. By the last one, he’s demanding that she leave her husband and children or something would happen to them.
” Her voice cracks. “He signed them all Eternally Yours. I had these all this time. I didn’t know.
I had no idea. Your parents’ murder could have been solved years ago, but because of me, it’s still classified as an accident. ”
Her face crumples, and Henry is at her side in an instant, wrapping her up, as if he can shield her from her own guilt.
Dante picks up the first envelope, pulling out the letter with careful hands. His jaw flexes as he skims. “It makes sense you put them away,” he says, though his voice is tight. “This wasn’t from a stranger. Whoever wrote this knew her.”
I can’t stand just sitting there. I grab one of the letters, my pulse pounding in my ears. The words blur until one line snaps into focus.
“When you tell me no, it only makes me want you more.”
“I think this was unrequited love,” I say and repeat the line to everyone.
My vision goes hot. I shove the letter down on the table like it burns. “Jesus Christ.” My throat feels raw, my chest like it’s caving in. “This isn’t love. It’s someone circling her like a vulture. This is a stalker.”
Rebecca covers her mouth, shaking. “I should have— If I had read them—”
Luca puts the letter he’s reading down. “You were respecting her privacy.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Henry murmurs, holding her tighter.
But I can’t look away from the stack. The sight of my mother’s name scrawled over and over makes my hands clench. These weren’t just words. They were warnings. Threats. A noose tightening around our family while we lived under this roof, clueless.
And now, every memory of her smile feels tainted by the shadow of whoever wrote them, and it only confirms what we’ve all always thought. Our parents weren’t in an accident. They were murdered.