38
Josie
Even after months, it strikes me how different the penthouse feels in the twilight.
Much of Karl's collection has been packed away, leaving the space emptier but somehow freer. I look out at the lake, the water shimmering with the setting sun.
I feel Florence's warmth as she steps up behind me. Her arms slip around my waist, and I lean back into her.
"Are you okay?" she asks softly. "Today was… a lot."
I cover her hands with mine, holding them against my stomach. "I keep thinking about Nonna's story." I turn my head to catch her profile in the fading light. "About how love doesn't really die."
She presses a kiss to my temple. "She's right, you know. What happened with Vittorio was tragic, but look what grew from it. Roberto bringing her to America. My mom meeting my dad. We wouldn't be here now if it weren't for those choices—choices made in grief."
"And love," I add. "It's kind of like what Karl did," I say quietly. "Watching over me… trying to protect Donna in his own way… It doesn't excuse what he did…" My stomach still twists at the thought.
"But you can understand trying to make something right, even if you go about it wrong." Her arms tighten around me. "Like pretending to need a fake fiancée instead of just firing an asshole employee?"
I laugh despite myself. "That worked out pretty well, though."
"Did it?" she asks softly. "Sometimes I wonder if you're going to wake up one morning and realize this isn't what you want."
"Florence." I turn in her arms, needing to see her face. "Do you know what I was thinking about at dinner? Watching you with your family?" I cup her cheek, feeling her lean into my touch.
She shakes her head.
"I was thinking how, for fifteen years, I thought being in love with Mel was the biggest thing I'd ever feel. How I convinced myself that loving someone who couldn't love me back was somehow noble or pure." I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. "But being with you… It's so different. It's real. It's messy. Sometimes it's terrifying. But it's also the most alive I've ever felt."
She kisses me then, softly, before pulling back to look at the city twinkling below us. "What are you going to do with this place?"
"Sell it," I say without hesitation. "Use the money for the foundation. I was thinking we could focus on helping families trace and recover lost and stolen artifacts—not just from World War Two, but from any conflict where people were forced to leave their treasures behind."
Florence nods thoughtfully. "A way to honor both our families' histories."
"I thought maybe your brother could help evaluate coins that come through. And Catalina's contacts in Italy could be invaluable with the art." I turn back to the view. "I want something good to come from all this."
"Something already has," Florence says quietly. "Look at our families. Nonna getting her ring back. Your mom and Donna finding each other. Even Marin finally accepting that I can take care of my own heart."
I have to smile at that. "She still watches me like a hawk."
"She loves you, you know. She's just too stubborn to admit it." Florence's cheek rests against my back. "Speaking of love…"
My heart skips. "Yes?"
"Move in with me?"
I turn to look at her, surprised. "What happened to needing your space?"
"I do need space sometimes," she admits. "But I've realized I need you more. We can figure out the details—maybe keep your place, too, for when either of us needs alone time. But…" She bites her lip. "I want to come home to you every night. I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to build a life with you, Josie."
The last rays of sunlight catch her hair, and I reach up to tuck a strand behind her ear. "You know what your Nonna said about love healing old wounds?"
She nods.
"Sometimes, to be stronger, we need to let go of the things we hold on tightest to. Like you letting your icy fortresses melt. Me letting go of my unrequited love for Mel." I lean my forehead against hers. "We both had to let those things go to find each other."
"Is that a yes?" she whispers.
"It's a yes." I kiss her softly. "But I'm keeping my place for now. You get grumpy when you work late, and sometimes I need somewhere to hide from Hurricane Florence."
She laughs, the sound echoing off the empty walls of the penthouse. "Fair enough. Though I seem to remember you enjoying Hurricane Florence quite a bit last night," she teases.