Luca #2
"There was only ever you," I say simply.
Her expression flickers with something that looks a little like guilt or maybe regret, but she looks away.
"Besides," I continue, trying to keep things light, "I was busy building our family business. Didn't have time for a wife."
She doesn't respond, and I wonder if she's thinking of her children, of the life she's built without me.
The insecurity I've kept at bay all night creeps in.
Who fathered those kids?
Does she still love him?
Why isn't he here?
I run my fingers through Elena's hair, savoring the silky texture against my skin.
The peaceful moment feels like a dream I might wake from at any second.
Especially if I ask the wrong questions. But I can’t help it.
"Elena," I start, keeping my voice casual despite the tightness in my chest. "The triplets' father… is he still in the picture?"
Her body goes rigid beside me.
The relaxed woman from moments ago vanishes, replaced by the guarded Elena I've encountered since my return.
She shifts away slightly, pulling the sheet higher over her chest. "No. He's not."
"Do they see him? Does he support them?" The questions tumble out even as I chastise myself for fucking this moment up.
"It's complicated."
"Did you love him?" What the fuck, Luca? I don’t want to know the answer to that.
She doesn't answer immediately. When she does, her voice is quiet. "Yes."
Something cold and sharp twists in my gut. I knew she’d been with someone.
The children are living proof of that. I’d hoped it was a hookup and they’d all gone their separate ways. Hearing her admit to loving another man cuts deep.
All those years I spent in Italy, holding on to the memory of us while she was here, building a life, falling in love, creating a family with someone else.
"And now?" I ask, hating the vulnerability in my voice.
Elena turns to look at me. "Now I'm raising my children and trying to keep them safe."
Suddenly, I feel like an intruder in this bed, in this life she's created without me.
The confidence I felt earlier that I could reclaim what we lost wavers.
Am I chasing a relationship that died years ago while I clung to the hope that we’d someday be together again?
I shift closer to Elena, unable to stop myself from asking the question. "Why would he leave you? With three children, no less?"
The silence stretches between us. Something about her hesitation makes my heart stutter.
"He… didn't exactly leave," she finally says, each word measured carefully. "He was gone before I knew I was pregnant."
I study her face, noting how she won't meet my eyes.
A wild thought flashes through my mind.
Could they be mine?
The timing… if she got pregnant right before I left for Italy…
But that's impossible.
Elena would have told me.
She would have reached out, let me know I had children in the world.
Even if she hated me for her father's imprisonment, she wouldn't have kept something like that from me.
Would she?
I look at her more closely, trying to recall the children's faces. Do they look like me? Like my father or Gabriella?
No. I'm letting tonight's intimacy cloud my judgment, creating fantasies because I want a deeper connection to her, a reason to stay in her life.
"I'm sorry," I say, pushing the ridiculous thought away. "That must have been difficult, finding out you were pregnant after he was gone."
Elena nods, still not looking at me. "It was… complicated."
"And he never came back? Never tried to be part of their lives?"
"He couldn't.”
I pull her into my arms, suddenly protective of this woman who's had to be so strong on her own.
Whatever her past, whatever secrets she's keeping, right now, she needs comfort, not interrogation.
"His loss. They're beautiful children. You've done an amazing job with them."
I press my lips to Elena's, cutting off whatever else she might say.
Her response is immediate, a soft gasp followed by surrender as she melts against me.
This is easier than words, than questions with answers I don’t want to hear.
Our bodies still speak the same language even if everything else between us has become foreign.
"Let me have you again," I whisper against her mouth, my hands already sliding down her sides, memorizing the new curves motherhood has given her. "I've spent seven years dreaming about you."
Her fingers tangle in my hair as I trail kisses down her neck, across her collarbone.
I want to drown in her, to lose myself so completely that the doubts circling my mind dissolve into nothing.
"Luca.”
I move lower, my mouth finding her breast, my tongue circling the sensitive peak until she arches beneath me.
I push everything else away.
My father's failing mind.
The ghost of her children's father.
The question of her father’s incarceration and death.
None of it matters in this moment.
Only the taste of her skin, the sound of her quickening breath, the way her thighs part for me.
"I never stopped wanting you," I tell her, the words raw with honesty as I position myself between her legs. "Never stopped thinking about us."
When I push inside her again, the sensation is overwhelming, not just physically, but emotionally. I've found my way back to her body but still feel locked out of her heart.
Elena wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, her eyes locked with mine.
For a moment, I see a flash of the woman who loved me before everything fell apart.
Before Aldo Vitale stole my life and sent me into exile. Before another man gave her the children I should have fathered.
I set a slow, deliberate pace, determined to make this last, to brand myself on her memory so deeply that she can't forget me again.
Tomorrow will bring complications, but tonight she's mine again, and I intend to make the most of every second.