Chapter 30
December
our way home
Cecily
I’m deep into the research a source sent me for my last article of the year when a commotion outside breaks my focus. At first, I figure it’s nothing. Just background noise, kids on the street, or neighbors talking. But then... I hear Italian.
And there’s no way to confuse it with anything else.
I cross the office, lean closer to the window, and blink at least three times to make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, pressing a hand to my mouth.
As if he can feel my gaze, Alexander turns. Our eyes meet. He smiles—the same smile he always seems to direct only at me—and lifts one shoulder, like what I’m seeing is just another Thursday afternoon in our lives.
My heart forgets how to beat properly.
I move on instinct, grabbing my coat from the entryway and stepping outside, crossing the street with quick steps until I’m standing in front of his house.
The second they spot me, hands go up and everyone starts shouting. I hear my name coming from every direction all at once.
Pietro reaches me first, pulling me into a tight embrace.
Valentina and Anna swiftly steal me from him, wrapping me into a group hug.
The others follow, closing in around me, voices overlapping with laughter, hands touching my shoulders, my arms. I catch words and half-finished sentences, answering some in English, others in Italian, my own laughter joining theirs as I try to keep up.
When I crouch down to hug the children, I make a conscious effort not to suffocate them with my longing.
I straighten just in time to see Alexander helping Nonna out of the van.
I walk over to them and fold myself into her embrace, finding comfort in her arms, from the scent that feels like home no matter the country.
“I told you we would see each other very, very soon, Cecilia,” she whispers in Italian into my ear, her voice gentle and knowing.
And now, with my Italian so much better, I don’t need Alexander to translate the simple things anymore.
“è meraviglioso rivederti, Nonna. Mi sei mancata tanto,” I tell her, explaining how wonderful it is to see her again, how much I missed her.
My Italian is still hesitant and imperfect, but understandable. At least, I hope so.
Nonna pulls back to look at me, her smile wide and proud.
“Your Italian very good,” she says in her rusty English. “Need to make my English better now, sì.”
We laugh together, and Alexander steps in beside me, kissing my forehead.
“They were only supposed to arrive the day after tomorrow,” he says. “We were planning a surprise dinner for you. But they have their own plans, as you can see.”
He explains that they’ll all be staying for Christmas and New Year’s, with a few more arriving tomorrow. Zio Giorgio, his wife, and their son and daughters among them.
I laugh again. Happy in a way that feels unknown to me.
I cradle Alexander’s face in my hands and bring our lips together in a gentle kiss, feeling his arms go around my waist. It’s brief and chaste, but full of meaning.
While his lips are on mine, the rest of the world simply fades out.
I don’t hear a single voice. But the moment we pull apart, the noise picks right back up.
Whistles and excited shouts in Italian surround us.
I laugh, my cheeks flushing, and tuck my face against his chest, letting myself hide there as his arms tighten around me.
Then I hear a child’s voice cut through the noise. “Alicia!”
“It’s Alicia! Alicia!” Bianca repeats, bouncing on her toes.
I spot her standing just outside her father’s car, one hand gripping the open door, her movements cautious. Alexander kisses my forehead and gives a reassuring nod. Stepping out of his embrace, I walk over to the car, stopping in front of her.
“Hi, honey. This is Alexander’s family.” I gesture behind me. “They surprised us and came to spend Christmas here.”
Alicia peers over my shoulder, taking in the scene.
“I know you and Alexander said his family was big,” she says, eyes widening, “but... are they all his family?”
That makes me laugh.
“Yes. All of them. And there are a few more arriving tomorrow.”
She just looks at me, stunned, and I can’t help but laugh again.
“I know,” I tell her gently. “It’s a lot of people. But they’re all good people. If you want, you can go say hello now. And if you don’t, that’s okay too. You can go inside, and I’ll explain that you’d rather get to know them later.”
Her gaze goes back to them, and I follow it in time to see Bianca, Cella, Benito, her nine-year-old brother, and a few of Alexander’s nieces and nephews waving at her.
Alicia lifts her hand and waves back, a smile forming on her lips.
“I’ll go say hi, Mom,” she says, and I can hear a hint of excitement in her voice. “You talk about them so much, it already feels like I know them.”
I smile and lean in to kiss her forehead, my chest tightening with contentment as I watch her step forward, toward them.
Then she turns, almost as an afterthought.
“Bye, Dad. See you tomorrow.”
Only now does it occur to me that he’s here. “Hi, Colin. Thanks for bringing her.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” he replies, his jaw set, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
Alicia closes the door, and we walk together toward Alexander and his family.
The adults greet her with handshakes and kisses on both cheeks. Most of the children wrap their arms around her waist; a few stay behind, clinging to their parents’ legs, studying her with open curiosity.
It’s Cella who asks Alicia to bend down, gently touching her hair, saying it’s the same color as mine. Only with prettier curls.
Alicia smiles, undoubtedly charmed.
Small hands slip into hers, and she’s led inside Alexander’s house, where part of the family is already spread throughout the living room.
I follow close behind, just in time to see Nonna rise from the couch and open her arms wide.
“I was counting the days to meet you, bambina mia[LXXVI],” she says.
Cella translates quickly when she notices my daughter’s hesitation.
Alicia approaches with careful steps, and Nonna pulls her into an enveloping hug. She already knows her. I’ve shown her countless photos and videos, especially the ones of Nonna scolding one of her grandkids.
I have to swallow hard, my heart beating frantically, as I watch the tenderness with which Nonna strokes Alicia’s hair, then cups her face.
“Sei una ragazza bellissima. Beautiful, beautiful,” she says. “You have the same light in your eyes as your mother. Different color, but same light. Sì.”
“Thank you, ma’am...” Alicia replies, shy.
“No, no ma’am,” Nonna corrects, firm but smiling. “It’s Nonna.”
“N-Nonna?” Alicia repeats, carefully.
“Very good, cara. Molto bene!” Nonna says, delighted, looping her arm through Alicia’s and steering her toward the kitchen. “Tell me about your ballet.”
She turns to Cella and adds in Italian, “Bambina mia, come and translate for your great-grandmother.”
Cella giggles, and she and the other children trail after Nonna, who begins rummaging through Alexander’s cabinets, announcing she’s making hot chocolate for everyone, and that it’s a very good thing her grandson keeps a well-stocked pantry.
I remain where I am for a heartbeat longer, watching the house fill with voices and movement, my heart full in a way that feels almost unreal.
I feel Alexander’s arms slide around me, and I let myself lean back into him, a smile finding its way to my lips.
“So,” he murmurs close to my ear, “did you like the surprise?”
“I loved it,” I say, then I turn within his arms to face him. “That’s why you stopped talking about Christmas, isn’t it?”
Alexander grins, his amber eyes glinting. “It was either that, or you would’ve figured out I was planning something.”
I’d been preparing myself for a whole week without him, for the distance until New Year’s Eve while he was finding ways to make the holidays special for both of us.
I place my hand over his heart, feeling it beat beneath my palm.
“When I think you couldn’t possibly make me any happier... when I think I couldn’t love you more than I already do,” I say softly, almost to myself, “you prove me wrong.”
He leans in and kisses me. It’s brief and chaste, but gives me butterflies in my stomach all the same.
“And I’ll keep giving you reasons to love me,” he says. “More and more. Every day.”
I wrap my arms around him, breathe him in, and hold on to the hope, reminding myself that this moment is exactly as real as it feels.
Alexander
My living room, usually defined by space and clean lines, is filled with Christmas energy.
My family has an instinct for filling any room with laughter, expressive gestures, and a lively spirit that makes any place feel lived in.
When I reached out and asked them to come for the holidays, there was no hesitation. We planned everything together, as if it had always been meant to happen this way.
Cecilia often talks about wanting the kids to meet my family, so I chose to make that happen here, where they feel most at ease.
There will be time for them to visit our villa at any moment they choose to do so.
Cecilia is across the room, pouring wine. Our eyes meet for a brief second and we smile before I turn my attention back to the window.
Ethan’s been standing there, facing the glass for a while.
He met my family the day they arrived, right after coming home from spending the afternoon with friends.
And, much like Alicia, he was welcomed without reserve.
Everyone made a point of drawing him in, of making sure he felt included during the improvised dinner my cousins put together.
A simple meal that became a joyful takeover of my kitchen.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the moment Nonna pulled Ethan into a hug and, wearing one of her mischievous smiles, spoke in Italian, intentionally leaving the translation to me.