31. Federica
FEDERICA
DEAR DIARY,
This week, I…
Got married;
Lost my V-card;
Got kidnapped by a cartel boss;
Nearly got burned at the stake and / or filleted by said cartel boss;
Saved my missing best friend;
Got saved in turn by my mafia capo husband.
Reunited with my seven-year-old adoptive son;
Discovered that Valerio loves me and has, in fact, loved me all along.
Surprised? Yeah. Me too. Can’t wait to find out what Christmas has in store for me.
It’s past midnight when we get home. We smell like smoke, blood, gasoline, and Waffle House takeout.
"Sweetie." I shake Alessio awake gently. "We're home. Time to brush your teeth and get you into bed."
He looks at me.
Then tears fill his eyes.
“Oh. Oh, baby...”
I catch him before he reaches the floor. Then we both end up there anyway, me in a ruined bridal robe, him in a wrinkled suit, sitting on cold tile while he cries into my shoulder.
“I was scared,” he whispers. “I cried.”
Valerio crouches beside us. He places one large hand on Alessio’s back and leaves it there, steady and warm.
"You did good, son," he says. "I'm proud of you."
That’s all.
That’s enough.
After a while, Alessio’s crying turns into hiccups. Then exhaustion wins. Valerio carries him to bed, and I watch them go with my heart sitting somewhere high in my throat.
Valentina stands in the hallway, barefoot now, pale under the bruises.
“I’m fine,” she says before either of us can ask.
“I’m not,” I whisper. “I missed you.”
She gives me a weak smile, then steps into my arms.
The hug lasts a long time. Her fingers grip the back of my robe, and mine do the same to Valerio’s coat around her body.
Over my shoulder, she looks at him.
I feel his hand at my waist before I remember he put it there. He doesn’t seem to notice he’s done it either. His thumb rests against me, protective and natural. Like that’s where it belongs.
Something in Valentina’s face settles.
“I’d like a shower,” she says. “A bed. And maybe to never see a machete again.”
Valerio nods. “Reasonable.”
“Then I want all the hot gossip.”
We give her the guest room and a rain-check on the hot gossip. A minute later, the shower starts.
I end up at the kitchen counter with a mug in my hand. I have no idea what’s in it. I haven’t taken a sip.
Valerio stands beside me. I don’t think I could ever tire of having him there.
I look at the graze on his cheek.
“You came,” I say.
His eyes meet mine. “Of course I came. You needed me.”
My throat tightens. I reach up and touch the cut. His jaw flexes, but he stays still.
“Don’t do that again.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it. You don’t get to risk your life for me.”
He covers my hand with his and holds it to his cheek.
“I can’t promise that,” he says. “So I won’t.”
“What can you promise me?”
“That I’ll never lie to you again.”
Understanding dawns. “The texts.”
“Yes.” He owns up to it without a moment’s hesitation. I respect him for that. “I don’t expect forgiveness. But will you hear my side?”
Breathless, I nod.
He tells me everything plainly. The day she was taken. The replacement phone. The cover story. The first message he sent because I was asking questions and he needed me far from the truth.
Then the part that hurts more.
“I kept going because your messages were the only contact with you I allowed myself.” His voice stays low. “I know how that sounds.”
I swallow hard.
Valerio lied to me, yes. Knowing that burns.
But if I’m honest with myself, those text chains are what has kept me sane over these past six months.
If I’d known Valentina was in enemy hands, I don’t know that I could have dragged myself out of bed in the morning.
That I wouldn’t have hopped on the first plane to Mexico City and gotten myself killed within five minutes of landing.
I press my lips together. Anger rises, then grief, then something softer I don’t want to name yet.
Or maybe I don’t need to. Maybe I’ve already named it earlier, my body pressed to Valerio’s, vows still fresh on our lips and a pair of gold rings catching the light on our fingers.
“She would have said the same things,” I inform him. “The real her.”
“I know.” His eyes lift to mine. “That’s why it was easy.”
I hate that answer. I understand it too well.
“When she’s ready, we’re taking that trip.” I wipe my eyes. “She and I.”
He nods. “I’ll pay for it.”
“Obviously you’ll pay for it. You owe me six months of fake postcards.”
He lays his hand on mine. “I’m not a man of words. You know that. But I’m still sorry for all of this.” He hesitates. “If you want to review our situation?—”
“Our marriage,” I correct him.
He speaks like it costs him. “Yes. I understand you didn’t enter into our agreement willingly. So, if you?—”
“If you’re reverse-proposing to me, I swear I will go back for my war stick.” I close the distance between us. “I love you. That part won’t change.”
“Good,” Valerio says, voice suddenly low and dark with possessiveness. “Because I don’t think I could actually let you go.”
He tips my chin up. My eyes flutter shut, my body folding into his like it’s second nature.
He kisses me long and slow. Makes it last. I press against him, letting him steal away my breath and my sanity.
“We should probably clean up,” I murmur. “Hop in the shower.”
“Good idea.” He strokes my lips with his thumb. “We could save water.”
A cough comes from the doorway.
We both turn.
Valentina stands there in borrowed clothes, damp hair around her shoulders.
“Okay, first, ew.” “Second, you texted her from my phone?”
Valerio glares at her. “Ever heard of a little something called privacy?”
“You’re one to talk. You’re an absolute stalker, you know that?”
He slides out from our embrace and walks up to her.
Then, without blinking, musses up her hair. Just like he used to do when we were kids.
“I’ve missed you too, sis,” he says quietly.
Valentina crumples.
She hugs her brother for five minutes straight, her mask shattering to pieces. I don’t blame her. She’s been through hell and back. It’ll take time for her to recover. And for Valerio, and Alessio.
And for me, too.
We’ve lost so much. All of us. But at the end of the day, I think to myself, we were lucky. Because we still hold the pieces that matter more than anything.
Love.
And our family.