28. — epilogue. #3
Children shifted life’s outlook the moment they drew their first breath...and when they didn’t. Salvatore understood both sides all too well. That was fatherhood; it couldn’t be helped.
He pulled Nico into a hug and waited him out, and then he let the kid take him to meet his grandson.
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Two summers later...
“Sal, you gotta watch!” Carina demanded.
He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
“Sal!”
“Twenty seconds left, boss man.”
Salvatore glanced at the clock at the corner of the television screen, and then the panning image of girls in USA uniforms darting down the soccer green. He was so used to looking for the name GALLO on the back of Frankie’s jersey, that he forgot to check for RUSSO.
That was the only reason he almost missed seeing her goal.
The winning goal. The goal for gold.
The room erupted. Full of those who lived or work on his estate, and a handful more including Big Mike, his wife, Isabella, and their large brood had all been invited to watch the final game of the summer Olympics being held in Los Angeles.
A lot like the hometown crowd on the screen, and the announcers that roared into microphones about how a girl from Staten Island, New York who refused every sponsorship and endorsement deal offered in leu of teammates who deserved or needed them more, helped the team win the gold medal at the final second on the clock.
Frankie had that gift. She made it happen.
She barely did interviews leading up to the games.
She worked harder than anyone knew to keep up classes, even changing her major a year into college, and take care of her baby while playing at the level Team USA demanded of her.
She even stayed on call as an alternate during last year’s World Cup but hadn’t played.
He stopped counting the millions he paid in chartered flights over the past couple of years just so she could see her son during training camps and testing.
Every fucking dollar? Worth it.
“That’s your sissy,” he told SJ, pointing at the TV and bouncing the clapping, happy boy. He didn’t understand, the toddler. Neither did Dove, shouting excitedly because her mom did.
Salvatore’s phone buzzed, and he figured it was probably someone sending their congratulations. He pulled out he device to check it nonetheless, keeping it out of SJ’s reach as best he could as he navigated the screen to open the message.
It wasn’t from just anyone. Nico’s contact stared back and the video he’d sent. Straight from the sidelines.
Salvatore would’ve given anything to be in Los Angeles. Literally anything. His entire portfolio of wealth. His undying loyalty, if someone asked.
The one thing he couldn’t give? His life.
He gave up California when he took the boss’s seat.
That state no longer promised him safety and security due to factors he’d allowed.
While he could have tried to work it out with the narcos now running the show, it wasn’t worth it.
That brought danger that he didn’t care to risk with his twins.
They wouldn’t touch Frankie, though. Or Nico.
Her status as an Olympic athlete made her too high profile to try something, especially during the games, but he planned ahead, just in case. The team of security he and Nico carefully arranged for her never let Frankie out of their sight.
In fact, one of the security on the team—the same Gabriel that had taken a job as Frankie and Nico’s head of security on their estate—could be seen off to the side of the video Nico sent once Salvatore finally got it to play.
The man clapped and shouted across the field, but the little boy jumping on a flat barrier and throwing his little hands high took up all of his grandfather’s attention.
Nico spoke from behind the camera. “What’d Mommy just do, Dami? What’d Mommy do?”
That kid walked at nine months old. Chased a ball before he turned a year and a half. He refused help navigating stairs. He had ambition, skill, and a fearlessness his parents encouraged every day.
Salvatore didn’t even worry to see those jean-clad legs and black sneakers bouncing on a barrier between the people and the field.
He just grinned at the two-year-old’s excitement and how those eyes of his, dark brown like Frankie’s, lit up.
He might look like his father, every inch of Nico stared back from that kid, except his eyes. Those came from her.
“What did Mommy do, Dami?” Nico asked his son again.
Damiano bent at the knees, all his energy balling into his tight fists that he pressed against his leather jacket, emblazoned with Team USA colors and patches. “Mommy won fucking gold!”
Salvatore laughed so hard he almost dropped his phone.
In the background, just before the video cut off, Nico muttered, “Yeah, can’t show that one to Mom, little man.”
Salvatore’s gaze drifted over the faces staring his way as he focused on the television again.
There, Frankie had finally gotten away from her team just long enough to make it to the sidelines.
The camera caught a kiss between her and Nico, another rare sight between them whenever her team had been the center of attention.
He handed a kicking, reaching Damiano over the barrier, and someone else tossed a flag that Frankie easily caught.
“That’s my girl,” Salvatore murmured as Frankie did a victory lap. A well-earned one with Damiano on her hip.
Six weeks later, Salvatore would get better news. A second grandchild would soon make their appearance, conceived on the night Team USA won Olympic gold. When he asked Nico about the unexpected pregnancy later, he admitted that’s what Frankie wanted. It wasn’t unexpected at all.
She didn’t want to keep playing soccer. And she’d changed her focus at school so she could finish before her second child was born. She wanted to be a mom. Not part-time. All the time.
Three more grandchildren would follow, like little steps, every two years after.
Damiano Nicky.
Nicole Carina.
Christopher Nicolas.
Andre Salvatore.
Angela Dove.
That big dining room table, empty for so long...their family finally filled it.
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The In Love and Blood saga continues in...Darling, Dove.