17. Adriana #3
But even if Gio is gone, there will always be other dangers.
Other fears. And Lachlan is now a part of that world.
Even if I believe him, that he was doing his best, that he loves me, that every word he's said is true…
that doesn't change that he made himself into a mafia boss to get me back…
the one thing that would make me want to run away.
"He's a good kid," Lachlan says, watching him too. "You did a good job with him."
"I tried." My voice is thick. "I tried so hard to protect him from Gio, to keep him innocent as long as I could."
"You succeeded." Lachlan squeezes my hand. "He's happy and healthy. He's everything a kid should be."
"He's scared." I bite my lip. "He's confused. He doesn't understand what's happening. He might be physically healthy, but he has so much trauma, and I'm worried he won't ever be able to overcome it."
"He will." Lachlan's voice is confident. "Give him time. Give us all time."
We walk for a while in silence, taking breaks whenever Matteo gets tired, and I let myself imagine what it would be like if this were our life.
If we could do this every day—walk along the lake, watch our son play, hold hands like a normal couple.
But we're not a normal couple. We're two people with a decade of trauma between us, trying to figure out if love is enough to bridge that gap.
Lachlan takes us to the Art Institute next, and I'm surprised by how much Matteo enjoys it.
He stands in front of the paintings, asking questions, pointing out details, and Lachlan answers patiently, explaining things in a way that makes sense to a nine-year-old.
I watch them together as Lachlan crouches down next to Matteo in front of a painting of a woman in a garden, and he points out the way the artist used light and shadow.
Matteo listens intently, and then he asks a question that makes Lachlan laugh.
The sound of his laughter is genuine and warm, and so different from the cold, dangerous man I've seen over the past few days.
This is the Lachlan I remember. The boy I fell in love with.
He's still in there, I think, my heart lifting as I watch the scene in front of me. Underneath all the violence and the scars and the brutality… I think Lachlan was right. He's still in there.
We have lunch at a pizza place in a neighborhood called Wicker Park, and Matteo devours three slices while telling Lachlan about his favorite video games.
He's still favoring his arm, and all day we've had to take small breaks when his ribs are sore, but the excitement of the day and being out in a big city—a new experience for him—is largely pushing all of that to the background.
It makes me feel so much lighter, seeing him so happy, knowing that this is helping to assuage his fears and his hurts.
That's all I want for him. Lachlan listens like it's the most important conversation in the world, and I sit there watching them, feeling hope I haven't felt in ten years.
Maybe we can do this. Maybe we can be a family. Maybe love really is enough.
But then I see one of Lachlan's men standing near the door, watching the street, and I'm reminded that this isn't a normal life. There are men with guns protecting us because my brother wants me back. Violence is always just one step away.
"You okay?" Lachlan asks, and I realize I've gone quiet.
"Yeah." I force a smile. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"About this." I gesture around us, my voice lowering. "About whether this is real or if it's just a fantasy… if we're just pretending. Playing house while your men stand guard and my brother plans his next attack."
"Adriana." Lachlan reaches across the table, taking my hand. "Stop. Don't do this to yourself."
"I can't help it." My voice is shaking. "I can't help being afraid. I can't help wondering if this is all going to fall apart."
"It's not going to fall apart." His grip on my hand tightens. "I won't let it. I promise you, Adriana. I'm going to keep you safe. Both of you."
I want to believe him. I want to believe that his promises mean something, that his love is enough to protect us from the darkness of his world. But I've learned the hard way that promises don't always mean anything. That love doesn't always protect you.
That sometimes, no matter how hard you try, the darkness finds you anyway.
By the time we get back to the penthouse, it's early evening, and Matteo is exhausted. He falls asleep on the couch almost immediately, and I cover him with a blanket, brushing his hair back from his forehead.
"He had a good day," Lachlan says, coming to stand beside me.
"Yeah." I look down at my son, at the peaceful expression on his face, and I feel that hope again. "He did."
"So did I." Lachlan's hand finds mine. "Thank you for giving me this. For giving us this chance."
"I'm trying," I say softly. "I'm really trying, Lachlan."
"I know." He pulls me against him, and I let myself lean into his warmth. "That's all I'm asking for. Just keep trying. Keep giving us a chance."
I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of him. I think about the day we just had, watching him with Matteo. I think about the life we could have, if we can just figure out how to make it work.
If we can just survive long enough to build something real.