Chapter 25 Elena
ELENA
Friday comes too fast.
Dante has been doing everything short of physically waiting on me hand and foot. From bringing me tea, to reading to Luca whenever he asks, to sitting beside me while I nap with his hand always wrapped around mine. I find it hard to let go.
In the back of my mind, I wonder if this is his way of proving things could be different if I stayed. If this is his way of showing me he’s trying to present me with a life where we both could be happy.
I’m tempted.
I am so, so tempted.
But then I look at Luca and the guilt crashes all over me again.
I put him here. By not fighting harder in the beginning to leave, I put him directly in the crosshairs of those men who almost killed us.
Indirectly, sure, but by my doing all the same.
Because I never put my foot down and fought Dante tooth and nail to let us go, my son had to witness bloodshed and his mother almost dying.
None of which he will ever be able to forget.
He deserves better.
My follow-up appointment is scheduled for later that afternoon.
Dante takes us personally and carries Luca in his arms as we walk into the lobby. He wraps his arms around Dante’s neck and launches straight into a story before we’ve even cleared the entrance doors.
“There were so many boats on the water today,” he says excitedly, gesturing wildly with one hand. “The ones with the tall sticks—”
“Sailboats,” Dante informs gently, adjusting Luca higher against his chest.
“Those are my favorite! And one of them was red. My favorite color! Are there always sailboats out there?”
Dante hums in acknowledgment. “That harbor has been there for centuries. Traders used to come in from all over the Mediterranean, many of them sailors.”
“What’s Medi… Medi…?”
“Mediterranean,” Dante repeats patiently. “It’s the name of the sea we’re on.”
Luca nods solemnly as if this is deeply important information.
I walk a few steps behind them, slower than usual, partly because of the lingering ache in my side and partly because I don’t want to interrupt the picture in front of me.
Luca’s small fingers are fisted tightly into the collar of Dante’s jacket, anchoring himself there, looking like he’s always belonged there.
Dante listens as if there is nothing more important in the world than the story spilling out of our son’s mouth. He nods at the right moments, asks small questions, brushes Luca’s hair back from his forehead when it falls into his eyes. The sight makes something in my chest twist painfully.
They look so natural like this. So easy.
I wish I could freeze this moment in time. Or take a picture.
That thought almost knocks the wind out of me.
I won’t have anything to show Luca when he’s older about who his father is.
No photographs of Dante holding him like this, no videos of the way Dante’s mouth curves slightly when Luca’s eyes widen with curiosity.
No proof that for a brief, fragile stretch of time, they walked side by side and shared a life together.
If I go through with this… all he’ll have are my words.
What if those aren’t enough?
We step into the hospital lobby, the automatic doors sliding shut behind us with a soft hiss.
After checking me in, Dante walks us over to the waiting area.
He guides me gently into one of the cushioned seats, his hand hovering at my back in case I sway.
As soon as I settle, he sets Luca down into the seat between us.
The second Luca’s comfortable, he grins and slides back in the chair until his feet can barely reach over the lip of it.
Dante tickles his side with a finger, amusement burning in his eyes at the giggles that follow.
He pauses only for a moment as his phone goes off in his pocket.
He pulls it out without even glancing at the screen, answering it.
“Yes?” I watch the shift happen almost immediately. His brows draw together, mouth pinching tightly. “Right now? I’m a little busy.”
My fingers slowly lace together in my lap, pressing tight enough that my knuckles pale.
Dante lets out a worn sigh. “Hold on.” He lowers the phone and turns toward me. “I’ll be right back. I need to take this really quick.”
This is it.
Nicolo said there would be a distraction.
I force myself to nod. “Okay.”
I force my lips into a small smile and pray it reaches my eyes. He rises from his seat and leans down first to Luca. He presses a kiss to the top of his head, lingering just a second longer than usual. His hand cups Luca’s small face, gently squeezing his cheeks.
“You be good for your mother while I’m gone, okay?”
Luca nods with exaggerated seriousness. “I will.”
Dante’s mouth twitches faintly at that. He presses one more kiss to Luca’s forehead before straightening. Then he turns to me.
Everything inside me locks up. I try not to freeze when he reaches for me. Not because I don’t want him to touch me but because I know this will be the last time he ever does. My heart splinters at the thought when his fingers slide along my jaw, steady and familiar.
He leans down and kisses me.
It’s soft. Chaste, even. It lingers long enough that my lungs burn from holding my breath. If I didn’t know better, I would think he senses something is off. There’s a weight behind this kiss that’s never been there before, something unspoken pressing between us.
But in the days leading up to this, he’s been… normal. Protective and a little overbearing, sure, but nothing out of character for a man who nearly lost the woman he loves.
He pulls back slowly. His thumb brushes over my cheek, catching just beneath my eye as if checking for tears that might have fallen.
“I love you,” he whispers.
The words shatter what little resolve I have left.
I swallow hard. “I love you too.”
He studies me for one last second before stepping away and walking toward the far end of the corridor, phone lifting back to his ear. I watch him go and feel the jagged pieces of my heart tear at my insides.
Beside me, Luca hums quietly to himself, blissfully unaware that his world is about to split in two again.
I force myself to turn away before I lose my nerve. If I look back at the corridor too long and catch even a glimpse of Dante pacing with the phone to his ear, I won’t be able to do this.
I take Luca’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Come on, sweetheart. We’re going to take a little trip.”
He tilts his head at me, curious. “A trip?”
“Yes.” I manage a small smile. “Just for a little while.”
His brows pinch together in confusion. “What about Dante?”
My eyes sting instantly. “He’ll be coming right behind us.”
The lie tastes like ash in my mouth. Luca seems satisfied with that answer. He nods, squeezing my fingers right back, trusting me completely. That trust makes it so much worse.
I stand carefully. The stitches at my side pull slightly as I straighten, but I ignore it. Pain is a distant thing compared to what’s happening in my chest. We move quickly down the hallway opposite the one Dante disappeared down.
In only a few turns, we reach the double doors at the end of the east wing. My hand hesitates on the handle for half a second.
This is it.
There is still time to turn back.
Luca tugs at my hand. “Mama?”
I push the door open, pulling him through. The service hallway beyond is dimmer. The hum of fluorescent lights replaces the distant murmur of hospital chatter. Nicolo is already waiting there, leaning up against the wall.
He lifts his head from his phone when the door swings shut behind us. His eyes scan me first, then Luca, then the door where we’d come from. He pockets his phone slowly with a nod.
“Cutting it a little close,” he murmurs, pushing off the wall. His tone is calm, almost amused, but his gaze is sharp as it flicks past my shoulder again to make sure we weren’t followed.
I swallow hard and tighten my grip on Luca’s hand. “Sorry. It took a bit to get here.”
Nicolo studies my face for a long moment. There’s no judgment in his expression, just the same assessment he’d given me at the hospital when we met. Whatever he sees in my eyes has given him pause, though.
Does he sense my hesitation?
“Well, we don’t have much more time. The car’s waiting.” He turns, nodding for us to follow.
Luca looks up at him curiously, his eyes tracking Nicolo’s movement as he begins walking away.
“Who’s that?” he whispers.
I force my voice to stay steady. “A friend. He’s going to help us on our trip.”
Luca’s eyes dart to me, confusion rippling through his features.
We move together down the long service hallway. The fluorescent lights here hurt my eyes from the way they flicker slightly. They buzz loudly the closer we get to the outside door, sounding like trapped insects.
“The car’s ready,” Nicolo says without turning to look back at me. “Black sedan. Driver’s been paid, so you don’t need to worry about that. You’ll be at the airstrip in thirty minutes. I’ll give you a call before you take flight.”
The words should feel like freedom. It’s what I’ve wanted since I gave the green light to this entire process. Yet instead, they land heavily in my stomach.
Rain mists the air when we finally reach the outside door. It clings to my hair and skin. The city beyond smells like wet asphalt, nothing like the sea salt and orange blossoms that have haunted me since coming back here.
I already miss the coastline, the breeze carrying the smell of the ocean up the cliffside and in through the villa windows. I miss the sound of waves crashing far below and the endless blue waves and sky.
I miss… him.
The black sedan idles at the curb, headlights slicing pale tunnels through the fog. Nicolo opens the rear door and holds it for me, giving me a polite, almost gentle smile.
“This is it,” he says.