Elena
Hectic mornings are par for the course when you have triplets.
Even on Saturdays, in which I don’t have to feed, clothe, and get them to school, there is a frenetic energy buzzing around.
I’ve fed them breakfast and they’re now watching cartoons as I do a little housework.
Next, I’ll send them to their rooms to pack for their sleepover at Isabella and Roman’s house.
The kids love being around their daughter Angelica who is several years older and terrific with my kids.
I’ve just put a load of laundry in when there’s a knock on the door.
“Mommy, someone is at the door,” Rocco bellows.
“I’ll get it.” I’ve taught my kids not to answer the door.
I haven’t had specific reason to be concerned for their safety, but in my world, one can never be too careful.
Even with all the security Dom has set up for us.
I check the peephole and my heart stops.
Luca.
What’s he doing here?
For some reason, I look down at my outfit, noting the old leggings and faded sweatshirt.
My hair was haphazardly put into a ponytail when I got out of bed, and while I washed my face and brushed my teeth, I have no makeup on.
The fact that I’m annoyed by seeing Luca looking like this is unsettling. I shouldn’t care. Not anymore.
I swing the door open. "Luca? What are you—"
"I brought sweet treats." He holds up a box, presenting them like an offering. "Cannoli for you, cookies for the kids."
Three small heads peek around my legs, their eyes lighting up at the mention of sweets.
“What sort of treats?” Rocco steps forward, his impulsivity made worse with curiosity.
Luca crouches down, meeting the boy's gaze. "Rainbow. I’m told kids love ’em.”
“Can I see?” Elio joins his brother. Adalina leans forward too.
He lifts the lid and the scent of sugar and sprinkles fills the air.
“Can I have one?” Rocco asks, his hand already poised to reach into the box.
“Well, that depends on your mom.” Luca looks up at me.
Rocco bounces on his toes. "Mommy, can I have one? Please?"
“Me too!” Elio says.
My instinct is to shut the door in Luca’s face.
There’s so much at risk by his being here, his spending time with the kids.
But that is followed by guilt.
He’s their father even if he doesn’t know it. Even if their safety requires he never know it.
"Please, Mom?" Rocco clasps his hands together, holding them under his chin like he’s begging.
“Why don’t we invite Mr. Monti in first?” I step back to give him space.
“Yay!” Rocco throws his fists into the air in victory.
“In the kitchen.” I say, and all three rush to the kitchen.
He smiles. “Was it the cannoli or the kids' excitement that got me the invite?”
“Both.” I lead him back to the kitchen.
“Do you have milk?” he asks.
“Milk is for dinner and cereal,” Rocco announces.
I go to the refrigerator to get the milk and five glasses as Luca puts the box of treats on the table.
“Are you kidding?” Luca says. “Milk is for cookies too. Do you know the best way to eat cookies and milk?”
Three heads shake in unison, their eyes watching Luca like he’s a superhero.
I hand Luca a glass of milk.
He winks at me as he takes it. "Like this.” He demonstrates, dunking a cookie into his milk and biting into it. "You need to dunk long enough to let the milk soak in but not so long that your cookie breaks off."
The kids giggle.
“I want to try,” Rocco says, grabbing a cookie and pulling his milk glass toward him.
“Napkin.” I hand everyone a paper towel. I can already see I’m going to have crumb-filled drips of milk on my table.
Rocco dips his cookie and then pulls it out. “Like this?”
“Now take a bite,” Luca urges him.
He bites and his eyes light up.
“My turn,” Elio says, dunking his cookie up and down, up and down. He pulls it out and a chunk drops into his milk. “Mine broke.”
“That’s okay,” Luca assures him. “Try again, just don’t leave it in the milk for so long.”
Elio’s second try goes better.
Adalina, quiet but watchful, takes her turn.
Luca leans closer to her. “What do you think?”
She gives him a shy smile. “Good.”
“You’re the guy from Italy who only comes home at Christmas,” Rocco announces.
“He’s not ‘the guy’,” I correct Rocco. “He’s Mr. Monti—”
“Luca. Please. And I used to live in Italy, but now I’m home.”
"I'm Rocco, and that's Elio, and she's Adalina."
“It’s nice to formally meet you. The first time I ever saw you, you were this big.” He holds his hands out wide to about the size of a loaf of bread. I remember that first Christmas after the kids were born.
They were a little bigger than bread at about six months old. I remember feeling terrified he’d figure out the truth and guilty beyond measure at hoping he didn’t.
It’s about how I feel in this moment.
“We’re bigger now,” Elio says, trying to dig out his cookie from his milk.
“You are.”
“Do you know my uncle Dom?” Rocco asks.
“I do. I grew up with him. Just like I grew up with your mom.”
“He carries a gun. Do you?”
"Rocco!" I know my boys will likely follow Dom’s footsteps, especially if he never marries as he seems determined not to do, but the idea scares me.
Luca laughs, unfazed. “I have one, but if you really want to be safe and protect yourself, you need this.” He points to his head.
Rocco and Elio frown.
“Smarts?” Adalina says so softly I’m not sure Luca heard her.
But he smiles at her. “Exactly.”
“I’m smart, huh, Mommy?” Rocco says.
“All three of you are smart.”
Adalina leans in closer, her elbows resting on the table, observing him with an intensity that surprises me for a child her age.
Then again, I remember being drawn to him in the same way when we were kids.
Of course, we were only friends up until he came home from college, and that summer, something shifted.
At first, we figured it was sexual only and decided to indulge it. I was a virgin who wanted to know what sex was like.
But it wasn’t long before it was more.
Until I thought for sure we’d spend our lives together.
And then my father was arrested… and well, the rest, as they say, is history.
"Do you speak Italian?" Elio asks. "’Cause you lived in Italy?”
"I do. I speak it all the time there. At home, I stick with English.”
"Can you teach us?" Adalina surprises me with her question. She’s usually mute around strangers.
I suppose Luca isn’t a stranger as they’ve seen him at La Corona events, but they’ve never interacted with him.
It makes me wonder why he’s here now, bringing cookies and teaching the kids to dunk.
“Sure.” He thinks for a moment. “In Italy, we have one word we use for both hello and goodbye with our friends. We say ‘Ciao’.”
"Chow?" Rocco attempts, and I smile at his earnestness.
"Almost. We draw it out a little bit. Ciao.” Luca enunciates slowly. “For example, if I saw your mom, I might say, Ciao, bella.”
My heart stops.
The world stops.
I’m back at the park where I’m secretly meeting with Luca.
He approaches me. “Ciao, bella.” Hello, beautiful.
“Her name is Elena,” Rocco says.
“Yes, but bella means beautiful.”
Rocco scrunches his nose. I try not to be offended.
"Ciao, bella Mommy," Adalina says.
"Bravissima!" Luca claps, and she flushes with joy.
"What's that mean?" Elio asks.
"It means 'very good'. Bravo for boys, brava for girls."
Rocco, not to be outdone, asks, "Do you know bad words in Italian?"
“Rocco!” I shake my head.
"I know quite a few, actually,” Luca admits.
"Will you teach us?" Rocco is practically bouncing with excitement.
I glance at Luca, who is smiling back.
"I don't think I can teach you those with your mother watching," Luca stage-whispers to Rocco. "She might kick me out before I finish my cookie."
The children laugh, and the enormous guilt is outweighed only by the sorrow that fills my chest at what might have been.
We could have been a family, sharing laughter and cookies and language lessons.
But that’s quickly followed by the memories of Uncle Aldo wanting to hurt Luca. Of Gio’s wish for vengeance against Luca.
"You okay?" Luca asks quietly as the kids practice their Italian and cookie dunking.
I startle at his attention, almost defensive. "Fine."
His eyes flash with annoyance.
I can hear him calling me out.
I need to end this little love fest before it goes too far.
"Alright, you three," I announce suddenly. "Time to clean up. Isabella and Angelica will be here soon to pick you up for your sleepover."
“Yay! Maybe they’ll have cookies and we can dunk there,” Rocco says.
Adalina leans toward Luca. “I’m going to say Ciao to Angelica.”
Luca smiles at her. “Perfect.”
They scramble down the hall, leaving a sudden emptiness in the kitchen.
All of a sudden, I wish I hadn’t sent them off.
I have no buffer now from Luca.
"Isabella and Angelica?" he asks casually. "Roman's wife and daughter?"
"Yes." I wipe cookie crumbs from the table to give me something to focus on that isn’t Luca and how my heart aches that things didn’t work out for us. "They’re all close."
“Kind of like how we all were… Gabriella, you, me…”
I nod but keep my attention on cleaning up.
"They seem like great kids. Smart. Curious."
“They are.” I respond tightly, not wanting to discuss the kids.
Not wanting to risk giving away the secret I swore I needed to keep for all our safety.
“I need to talk to you, Elena,” he says, rising and collecting the glasses to help me clean up.
“What about?” I ask and then wince because I don’t really want to know.
He stands next to me at the sink and his nearness is almost too much.
I want to lean into him, spill my secrets and regrets.
“I’m looking into your father's case," he says, sending a shock of panic through me. "I've hired someone to dig into the records, find out what really happened."
"Why would you do that?" He can’t do that.
His brow furrows. "I'm confused. Don't you want to know who's behind your father's arrest and murder?"
I turn away to rinse the glasses. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What the fuck?” As if realizing he’s swearing in a houseful of children, he cuts himself off. He leans in closer. “You still think I was behind it."
All the painful memories come flooding back. "It's complicated."
"It's actually very simple. I didn’t do it and I plan to prove it to you.”
I close my eyes as a tempest of emotions make it difficult to think. "What does it matter now? He's gone. Finding out won't bring him back."
“It matters to me. I didn’t do this, Elena. I’m tired of your thinking I did.” He stares at me like he doesn’t know me. "It matters because someone destroyed your family and made you believe I was responsible. How can you not want to know who did that?"
"Because knowing won't change anything!" I grip the edge of the sink feeling like my world is slipping away. "It won't undo the past. It won't give my children their grandfather back."
"So you're just going to let whoever did this get away with it?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "Let them continue to blame me?"
The guilt wells again because I know it’s not fair to him.
“The Elena I knew wouldn’t have given in like that.”
"You don't know me anymore."
"I know enough." His gaze locks onto mine. "I know you claim to believe I'm innocent, but you're still punishing me for something.” He shakes his head. “Someone stole my life. Stole you from me. Or did they? Was I wrong about us?"
Guilt, fear, and a wish that we could reclaim our past swirl inside me.
“It’s not about what we had or what I want anymore, Luca.
” I gather my strength to look at him with determination to make him understand.
"Don't you get it? My father was a captain in the Vitale family.
If they could do that to him, what would stop them from coming after my children if I start asking questions? "
I see the shift in him, like my logic is reaching through the anger.
The danger isn't just theoretical.
It's real.
If Aldo Vitale orchestrated his brother's death and Luca’s exile, who else in this web might still be lurking in the shadows?
Because I know it’s not just Gio.
"That's why you've kept your distance," he says slowly, realization dawning. "Not just because you blamed me, but because you were protecting yourself. Protecting them."
I nod, relieved that he understands. "I can’t risk it.”
He studies me. “If that’s the case, you think your uncle or Dom was behind—”
“Dom?” I say quickly. I don’t want to mess things up for my cousin, and I promised him I wouldn’t reveal anything he told me of his suspicions about his father.
“But Aldo—” His phone buzzes, interrupting whatever he planned to say. He checks the screen. "I have to take this." He steps into the living room, keeping his voice low, and I watch him, feeling a mixture of desperation and determination.
When he returns, I’ve regathered my resolve even as it kills me inside to do so.
"I need to go," he says, frustration evident in his tone.
"Of course.” I know the drill. Business comes before everything. If we were a couple, that might annoy me. Right now, I’m grateful.
“This conversation isn’t over.” He moves closer, and the scent of him fills my senses. "I'll be back tonight. We'll have dinner, continue this discussion."
"Luca—"
"This isn't negotiable, Elena." His voice softens. "I’ve lost seven years. I won't lose another day."
I want to tell him to stop.
There’s no regaining what was lost.
But he’s moving to the door, and I want him gone more than I want to argue with him.
He reaches for the door, then turns back to me. "Whatever's going on, whoever's behind this, I’ll find them. I’ll make it safe for you and the kids. I promise you that."
Then he’s out the door and I’m left with the terrifying fear that instead of gaining what was lost, Luca’s actions will cause me to lose the only things I gained.
My children.