45. Lucia
45
LUCIA
I f you keep yourself busy, you don’t have time to think about the floor becoming lava beneath your feet and burning up everything in its path. In this case, the lava is Saverio, and I am in his path.
I spend the rest of the week studying everything I can get my hands on about pregnancy. Brooklyn tells me I have options if I don’t want to keep the baby, but getting rid of it is the only option I don’t have. She doesn’t know about Gianluca or the way he changed my life. I never tell anyone about my baby brother—he’s a secret between me and God.
But in response to my refusal, Brooklyn becomes the most supportive best friend on the planet. She starts figuring out baby shower dates and when they’ll work for the school schedule so we can have one with the teachers and one with our friends.
“Do you want one with your Family friends?” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “What do mafia baby showers look like?”
I don’t respond because I don’t want to encourage her. Her assumptions about the Terlizzis are accurate, but I won’t be the one who outs the family by accident.
By the time Friday rolls around, I leave work and head straight to Manhattan. My head is crammed full of first-trimester knowledge that I’ve soaked up from reading books, Facebook groups, and baby forums. As it turns out, there is a wrong way to do everything when it comes to pregnancy and babies, even if it’s the right way according to someone else. There are a million ways to fail, depending on who you talk to.
Throughout the week, I heard from Saverio a couple of times. He texted me to tell me he loved me, but I didn’t respond. There’s never been a lack of love between Saverio and me. Yesterday, he texted again to let me know he was thinking about me. I stared at the message for hours, leaving it open on my screen as I cooked dinner and watched Netflix until bedtime. I even put my phone on the charger and left the screen on while I slept. It kept me safe through the night in a way I can’t explain.
Saverio and I have gone months without talking to each other before; we aren’t strangers to the silent treatment. This cold war between us could continue until the baby is born. One of us has to crack first, and I’ve promised myself that it won’t be me.
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as I pull into the Terlizzi compound forty-five minutes later. The wrought iron gate outside the sprawling estate opens slowly. This is where I grew up, where I had some of the best and worst moments of my life. The place is far too big for Dante and Adalina, but it’s fitting for the head of our family.
Luciano is outside as I approach the circular drive, his lean figure a stark contrast against the mansion’s imposing facade. He leans casually against a stone pillar by the front door, examining his fingernails with feigned nonchalance. When I put my car in park and climb out, he lifts his gaze and smiles at me, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The evening air, crisp and biting, sends a shiver down my spine as I shut the car door behind me with a soft thud.
My twin straightens up and walks toward me with measured steps, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His movements are fluid, almost predatory. “You made it,” he says, his voice warm but laced with something else—something that makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.
“Of course,” I say as I return his smile. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He stops in front of me, his towering frame casting a shadow in the fading light. His hand finds my shoulder, the weight of it both familiar and unsettling. His thumb brushes gently against the fabric of my jacket, a gesture meant to be comforting but only serving to heighten my unease.
“I need you to have an open mind tonight, okay?” His voice is low, almost pleading, and I can detect a hint of nervousness beneath his usual confidence.
My anxiety hits an all-time high. The pit in my stomach grows, and I have to force the words out. “Luc, what’s going on?” I search his face for any clue, any hint of what I’m walking into.
He sighs. Before I can press further, he pulls me into a quick hug. It’s brief but tight, as if he’s drawing strength from the contact. As he releases me, his hand finds the small of my back, guiding me toward the house.
“Just… trust me, Luce,” he murmurs, his words hanging in the air between us as we approach the front door. The gravel crunches beneath our feet, each step bringing us closer to whatever awaits inside.
The words do nothing to settle the knot of fear growing in my stomach. As we step inside, the familiar scent of home hits me—leather, expensive cologne, and something distinctly earthly. The walls are adorned with family portraits, relics of a legacy steeped in tradition. While the lights are on, no one rushes to meet me. As Luciano leads me to the kitchen, I see my brothers standing around the kitchen island tossing back drinks. But Dante’s wife, Adalina, and Niccolo’s wife, Christine, are nowhere to be found. When my brothers see me, they stop mid-conversation, turning to face me like they’ve been waiting for this moment all day.
“Where’s the wives?” I frown, my voice cautious as I glance around the kitchen.
Dante sets his glass down, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “This isn’t really a family dinner,” he says. “It’s more of an intervention.”
My entire body tenses in response, muscles coiling tight beneath my skin. Though the OBGYN assured me I wouldn’t feel the baby’s movements until after the first trimester, I swear it does a somersault inside me, or maybe that’s just my stomach twisting with sudden anxiety.
“What?” I blurt out, my voice sharper than intended. I whirl to face Luciano, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What’s going on?” I ask accusingly, searching his face for any hint of explanation.
“It’s okay. We just want to talk to you, Lucia.”
The knot in my stomach tightens as I glance at my brothers. Salvatore is the first to break the silence as he clears his throat. “Did Saverio tell you about Lucrezia and Kristopher?”
I nod slowly, my voice coming out small and uncertain. “Yeah, he mentioned it briefly. He didn’t go into details, but I know she was the one behind Kris stalking me.” I don’t explain that I never heard the whole story because I admitted to Saverio that I was pregnant, and then all hell broke loose. The memory of that chaotic moment still makes me wince inwardly, the shock on Saverio’s face etched into my mind.
Dante’s jaw clenches tightly, the muscles in his face visibly tensing as he averts his eyes. For a long moment, he stares off into the distance, his expression a mixture of guilt and anguish. When he finally forces himself to look back at me, his dark eyes are filled with a strangled look of self-inflicted pain, as if he’s punishing himself internally. “That’s partially on me,” he admits, his usually smooth voice now rough with regret and self-recrimination. “I should’ve been more clear about how much I didn’t want to marry Lucrezia when Father arranged our proposal. I should have spoken to Saverio and told him that marriage wasn’t in the cards for me, at least not with his little sister. But I didn’t say anything, and it only fueled the fire. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I tell him.
“Yeah, it’s not your fault the Castigliones are crazy,” Niccolo grumbles.
A faint smirk tugs at the corners of Dante’s lips, but it’s fleeting. “Speaking of the Castigliones,” he starts, returning his attention to me. “You know Saverio cares about you, right?”
The tension in my shoulders rises as I feel everyone’s eyes on me, their gazes burning into my skin like hot coals. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly feeling as dry as the Sahara. The silence in the room grows oppressive, making it difficult to breathe. “I know,” I reply quietly. “He’s always cared about me. But… it’s complicated.” My hand instinctively drifts to my stomach, brushing lightly across the fabric of my sweater. It’s a protective gesture of the baby growing inside me, a secret that I haven’t told my family about yet because it’s still too painful to say out loud.
Luciano, always my protector, wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a sideways hug. His chin rests on top of my head, and for a moment, I let myself lean into his warmth. “Do you love him, Luce?”
I stiffen in his embrace. “It’s not that simple.”
He pulls away a second later, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes it hard to look away. “Look, I hate Saverio as much as the next Terlizzi,” he says, his tone shifting. “He’s at the heart of all our family’s troubles. The Castigliones are like kryptonite for us. But if you care about him, if you,” Luciano clears his throat, choking on the words, “if you love him, I’ll put aside how I feel about him.”
This is what I’ve wanted for years. I stare at my twin, unsure of how to respond. Then I glance at Dante, Niccolo, and Salvatore in turn. Each of them nods as if agreeing with Luciano’s statement.
Dante speaks next, his voice soft but firm. “I’m not Saverio’s biggest fan, you know that; we’ve never seen eye to eye. But after the other night, it became pretty damn clear to me that Saverio would do anything for you. I’m not saying give him a chance if you don’t want to. Hell, I’d prefer if you didn’t,” he adds with a grin. “But if he’s right that the two of you have some kind of relationship, if you love him, Lucia, don’t let us hold you back.”
Tears sting the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision as I look at my brothers. They have been constants throughout my life, unwavering pillars of support, always standing beside me and propping me up when I was too weak to do it myself. Through every trial and tribulation, they’ve been there, a protective shield against the harsh realities of our world. They’ve guarded me and kept me safe, even when I stubbornly insisted I could handle things on my own, my pride and determination often outweighing my common sense.
Yet, despite their overwhelming instinct to shelter me, they’ve also given me the gift of independence. They’ve stepped back, allowing me to spread my wings and find my own path, even when everything in their DNA was screaming at them to burn the world down in my honor. It’s a delicate balance they’ve mastered—being there when I need them while respecting my need to stand on my own two feet. As I gaze at them now, my heart swells with a mixture of gratitude and love so intense it threatens to overwhelm me.
But for as long as I can remember, they’ve hated Saverio. They’ve hated the parallels between his family and ours. And they’ve hated that the Castigliones rule over the Midwest. But they’re giving me permission to love Saverio despite all of that. Despite their hatred for him, despite their history, they’re stepping aside.
I wrap my arms around Luciano first, then the others in turn. “I don’t know what I’ll do about Saverio,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “But I appreciate this more than you know.”
They offer quiet reassurance, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe I’m not alone. I’m not alone in this pregnancy. I’m not alone in this family. And I’m not alone in this life.