Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Rosario
Two weeks later
It’s been too calm.
New parents shouldn’t be enjoying the newborn period like we are. Where are all the sleepless nights and fuzzy crying that we can’t figure out how to stop? I hate feeling like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, but we’re not lucky people.
“I want to christen her.” I blurt out while eating a bowl of oatmeal.
“Alright. Here or back home?” Bruno calmly sips his morning coffee shirtless with Willow laying on his chest.
It’s one of the most sexiest things I’ve ever seen.
“Stop looking at me like that, sweetheart. You are off limits for another four weeks.” I pout, making him chuckle.
“Italy.” I enjoy the surprise in his eyes.
“Seriously? Are you tempting fate?” I shrugged and then put my spoon down with a long sigh.
“No, but I’d rather control the environment. You know they’ll come. Can’t you feel it?” Willow lets out a little whine, and Bruno pats her butt a few times until she settles.
“I do. It’s unusual that they haven’t intervened again.” I point at him with a smile.
“You did kill one of the last guys. Maybe they got the message.” He snorts and takes another sip of coffee.
“I doubt that.” The front doorbell rings, and I frown.
He stands, hands me the baby before grabbing a gun and walking calmly to the door. He checks the cameras and curses before opening to retrieve a white box with a red bow.
“De ja vu.” I whisper as he lays it in front of me on the table.
“I open the last one.” I wave at the present as I bounce Willow, who’s waking up for breakfast.
He pulls out a note and reads it outloud.
Congratulazioni per la bellissima bambina
You failed. Try again.
“How lovely,” I mock under my breath as I settle into the rocking chair to nurse Willow.
He opens the box and stares in shock.
“What is it?” I adjust the baby in my arms before I look up.
“A christening gown. And it’s old.” He lifts it out of the tissue paper, and another note falls to the ground.
I recognize the tiny white lacy dress immediately and gasp.
“It’s mine. That’s from Abeulo. It’s been in my family for years.” He lays it on the counter gently and picks up the note.
“It’s addressed to you.” He brings it over to me, and I hesitate before taking it.
All the correspondence has been one-sided since I was sent here. He hasn’t reached out once, and now he’s sending family heirlooms? I drop my hand, not wanting to touch the familiar-looking cardstock.
My grandfather is a romantic, still believing in handwritten notes and letters. I have so many memories of watching him write at his desk with his fancy fountain pen and specially made paper that somehow always smelled of the plumeria he grew in his garden.
“I don’t want to read it.” I shake my head, making my final decision.
“Mind if I skim it. Just to make sure it’s nothing vital?” I sigh.
“That’s properly the smart thing to do. Ignoring them wouldn’t be a good idea, huh?” I lift the baby to my shoulder and start patting her back.
“No, we’re not ignoring anything anymore.” He rips open the actual wax seal and pulls out the letter.
“There’s a picture.” He hands it to me, and I know what it is before I touch it.
The familiar yellowing on the edges and the stamps on the back give it away.
“My parents and I at my christening,” I whisper as I turn the photo over and am greeted by the image.
“When was the last time you saw them?” We’ve never spoken about my parents.
I turn the photo around, and a tear falls down my cheek.
“This was the last time they held me. I’m not exactly sure what happened. Abeulo always said it was painful and useless to live in the past. All I know is that we all entered that church together, and I left with the nuns.” I smile through my tears as he slaps the note in his hand against the box.
“Who’s Sofia?” I open my mouth and then close it.
“Um, my mother. Why?” He hands the note to me, and I find my grandfather’s elegant script.
Willow Sofia Romano
“How did he know?” I whisper as I look around the cabin I once felt safe in.
“I’m not sure, but we’re not staying to find out. Go pack. I’m calling Lucas.” He steps outside and walks away from the house with his cellphone to his ear.
“Are you ready to meet the family, little one?” I coo at my daughter as I walk into the nursery to dress her and pack.
Italy, here we come.