Extended Epilogue
The dining room is filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the delightful chaos that only a big family gathering can bring. As I glance around the large table at the Marino estate, I can’t help but smile. My sisters and I are all seated close together, with our husbands scattered beside us, the room buzzing with conversation and the occasional shriek of excitement from one of the little ones.
It’s hard to believe how much has changed in just two years. We’ve gone from being a family of four daughters to this—four women surrounded by love, with growing families of our own.
The house is alive in a way it never was before, filled with the sound of children’s laughter and the murmur of low voices sharing stories and dreams.
This place, once a reminder of loss and sadness, has transformed into a haven for all of us.
Cara, Bianca and Rork’s eldest, is nearly three years old now and very aware of her status as the oldest of the cousins. She stands on a chair, her wild, dark curls bouncing as she waves her little hand imperiously.
“No, Nico!” she scolds Chiara and Dante’s nearly two-year-old son, who has somehow gotten his hands on a breadstick and is trying to stuff it into Maeve’s mouth, Bianca’s newborn daughter. “Baby can’t eat that!”
Nico, his cheeks puffed out in defiance, yells back something unintelligible, but it’s clear from his determined little frown that he’s not about to listen to his bossy cousin.
“Mario, put that down!” Sofia hisses across the table at one of her twin boys, her voice a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “That’s not a toy!”
Mario, who’s a little over one year old and already a troublemaker, grins cheekily at his mother before attempting to climb up onto the chair beside him. His twin brother, Nico—yes, another Nico in the family—giggles and tries to help, pushing Mario up from behind.
“Boys!” Dom sighs, rubbing his temples. “I thought we talked about not trying to break your necks at family dinners.”
Beside me, Luca’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as he watches the scene unfold. I turn to look at him, our daughter, Cecilia, cradled on his lap.
At one year old, she’s the spitting image of her father, with dark hair and striking dark eyes. She’s calmer than her cousins—most of the time. But as if sensing my thoughts, she suddenly reaches for Luca’s wine glass, her tiny fingers swiping at it with surprising precision.
“Whoa, there, little one,” Luca murmurs, lifting the glass out of reach. “You’re not old enough for that yet.”
Cecilia’s face scrunches in protest, but Luca only chuckles, leaning down to nuzzle her soft cheek. My heart swells at the sight of him with her. He’s so gentle, so loving, and it still takes my breath away to see how he’s embraced fatherhood.
There was a time when I wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to let go of his need for vengeance long enough to open his heart completely, but here he is—completely wrapped around our daughter’s little finger.
Rork, seated a few chairs down, groans as Maeve lets out a tiny wail, flailing in his arms. “I swear, this kid has radar. The second I sit down to eat, she loses her damned mind.”
“You’re lucky,” Dante mutters, shifting Nico, who’s now drooling happily onto his shoulder. “This one’s been teething for weeks. I’m starting to forget what sleep even feels like.”
“Welcome to parenthood,” Sofia teases, a mischievous grin on her face as she settles Mario back onto her lap. “Did you really think you were going to get a full night’s sleep ever again?”
The men share a long-suffering look, but it’s softened by the adoration in their eyes as they glance at their children, their wives.
This is what we’ve all fought for—this peace, this happiness. The love that fills this room is tangible, and it makes my chest tighten with overwhelming gratitude.
Mama sits at the head of the table, watching us with a serene smile on her face. She’s changed over the past two years, softened in a way that’s hard to describe. She’s still the gentle woman we all know, but there’s a happiness to her that wasn't there before.
Maybe it’s the joy of seeing all her daughters thriving, or maybe it’s the fact that she’s finally allowed herself to let go of the bitterness that once clouded her, especially from my marriage to Luca.
“Girls, I’m just so proud of all of you,” she says suddenly, her voice thick with emotion. “And of the men you’ve chosen.” She glances around the table, her gaze lingering on each of our husbands. “Your father would be so happy to see this—our family, together like this. It’s all he ever wanted.”
A hush falls over the table at her words, and I see my sisters exchange looks, eyes bright with unshed tears. We don’t talk about our father often, but tonight… tonight feels special. It feels like he’s here with us, a part of the laughter and the love that fills every corner of this room.
“He’s still watching over us,” Sofia says softly, her voice barely audible over the background noise of the children. “I feel it. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” Chiara murmurs, her gaze distant. “I feel it, too.”
We all nod, the unspoken bond between us stronger than ever. We survived so much to get here, to this moment. And our father… he’s still with us, guiding us, protecting us.
A sudden cry breaks the spell, and I turn just in time to see Cara pulling Cecilia away from a toy, her little face scrunched up in fierce concentration.
“No, Cici! That’s my toy!”
“Cara,” Bianca scolds gently, her voice holding that no-nonsense tone only mothers seem to master. “You have to share with your cousins.”
“But she’s too little!” Cara insists, glaring at Cecilia as if she’s a formidable adversary instead of a wide-eyed toddler. “She’ll break it!”
Cecilia blinks up at her cousin, completely unfazed, before giggling and reaching out to grab Cara’s hair.
“See!” Cara yelps, trying to untangle herself as Cecilia coos happily.
Laughter ripples around the table, the tension breaking as the adults exchange amused glances. Luca’s arm tightens around me, pulling me closer as he presses a kiss to the side of my head.
“Looks like Cara’s already learning how to be the boss,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple.
“She’s going to be a handful,” I agree, grinning up at him. “Just like her mother.”
“Hey, I heard that,” Bianca calls from across the table, mock-glaring at me. “And I’ll have you know, Cara gets her bossy streak from Rork’s side of the family, thank you very much.”
Rork snorts. “Don’t pin that one on me, love. She’s a miniature version of you, and we all know it.”
Bianca rolls her eyes, but her smile is affectionate as she looks at her daughter, who’s now sulking in her chair. “Maybe. But at least she’s got spirit.”
The conversation flows easily after that, everyone falling back into their comfortable banter. I watch my sisters, their husbands, our children, and feel a deep, bone-deep sense of peace settle over me. This is what life is supposed to be like—full, chaotic, messy, and so, so beautiful.
As the night winds down and the children start to drift off, I exchange a glance with Luca. He nods slightly, and I take a deep breath, bracing myself.
“There’s one more thing we wanted to share with you all,” I say, my voice trembling slightly.
All eyes turn to us, curiosity and anticipation lighting up my sisters’ faces.
“I’m pregnant,” I announce softly.
For a moment, there’s stunned silence. And then the room erupts in cheers and exclamations of joy. My sisters are on their feet, rushing toward me, and even the men are grinning, exchanging congratulations as chaos reigns once more.
“Another baby!” Chiara squeals, pulling me into a tight hug. “Mia, that’s wonderful!”
“Congratulations, Mia!” Sofia cries, her eyes shimmering with happy tears. “I’m so happy for you.”
Mama dabs at her eyes, sniffling delicately. “More grandchildren… your father would be so proud.”
And in that moment, as Luca wraps his arms around me, holding me close amid the joyful chaos, I feel it again—the sense of my father’s presence, his love surrounding us.
When we finally head home, exhausted but happy, I lean against Luca in the car, closing my eyes.
“I felt Papa tonight,” I whisper softly. “I felt like he was there, watching over us.”
Luca takes my hand, lifting it to his lips. “I’m sure he was, amore . And if he were here, he’d tell you just how proud he is of you. Of all of you.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I smile, my heart full to bursting.
“I think so, too,” I murmur. “I really do.”