Elena
I glance at the clock.
The triplets will be hungry soon, their late-afternoon energy already causing a ruckus in the living room.
Rocco's building something with blocks while Elio and Adalina argue over which Christmas movie to watch first.
I’m about to put a pot of water on to boil pasta when the doorbell rings.
“Mommy! Door!” Rocco bellows through the house.
“Coming.” I walk through the living area, noting that it looks like a tornado hit it.
When I pull open the door, my heart stutters.
Luca stands there with three pizza boxes balanced in one hand, his smile both hesitant and determined.
“I come bearing pizza.”
I should close the door. I should remind him of the danger. I should—
"Pizza!" Rocco shouts from behind me.
In seconds, all three children are rushing toward us, their excited voices overlapping.
"Did you bring cheese?"
"I want pepperoni!"
"Are you gonna teach us more Italian words?"
Luca crouches down to their level. "I brought one cheese, one pepperoni, and one with everything because I wasn't sure what you liked."
"Everything!" Elio pumps his fist in the air.
"That's the yucky one." Adalina wrinkles her nose.
Watching them, my children and their father, laughing together creates an ache so profound, I want to cry out in frustration. This could have been our life.
For a moment, I allow myself to imagine it. Coming home to Luca every day, raising our children together, building a life without secrets or fear.
"You okay?" Luca asks, his dark eyes finding mine over the children's heads.
No, I'm not okay. I haven't been okay since the day I found out I was carrying his children and couldn't tell him.
"I'm fine," I lie, stepping back to let him in, ignoring Dom’s warning clanging in my head. "I was just about to start cooking, but it appears you beat me to it."
I usher everyone to the kitchen table. Luca opens the pizza boxes while I busy myself getting plates and napkins.
Rocco and Elio immediately start grabbing at the pizza. “Where are your manners? I swear I didn’t raise them to be animals.”
“It’s pizza,” Luca says as if that explains the behavior.
When we’re all seated with pizza, Rocco and Elio chatter away.
“We had a sleepover at Angelica’s,” Rocco starts.
“She has a brother but he’s too small for sleepovers,” Elio says, shoving his pizza in his mouth.
“That sounds like fun.”
“Isabella showed us how to sew,” Adalina says quietly.
“Sewing is for girls.” Rocco shakes his head.
“So is baking, but you do that,” Adalina shoots back.
“Wait.” Luca’s brow furrows. “Are you saying boys can’t sew or bake? That doesn’t seem fair. What if a boy wants to do those things?”
My lips twitch upward.
“They can,” Elio says. “But it’s for girls.”
“Huh… a man designed my suits. And another man tailors them.”
“What is a tailor?” Elio asks.
“He fixes the size so they fit me. That involves sewing.”
“Roman made us breakfast… that’s a girl thing,” Adalina says.
“Oh, yeah. He made pancakes that looked like Christmas trees.”
Luca laughs. “If Roman loses his job, he can become a short order cook.”
“I think people should be able to do what they want no matter if they’re a boy or girl,” Adalina says quietly.
“I’m with you on that.” Luca leans to the side, gently shoulder bumping Adalina, whose face flushes pink.
“Did you have sleepovers when you were little?” Rocco asks Luca, picking a pepperoni off his pizza and popping it into his mouth.
“Sure. I remember your mom having them with my sister Gabriella when we were little.”
“My memory is of you tormenting us,” I quip.
“Had to do my part as the annoying sibling.” Luca winks at me. “I actually had a sleepover last night.”
I glare at him.
My kids don’t need to know about adult sleepovers.
After dinner, Luca offers to entertain the kids while I clean up. I'm halfway through loading the dishwasher when their laughter draws me to the living room doorway.
Luca sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by my children… our children… as they build an elaborate fort with couch cushions and blankets.
Elio stands on tiptoes, trying to secure a corner of the blanket to the bookshelf while Luca steadies him.
Rocco directs operations with the authority of a tiny general, and Adalina tests each section for structural integrity by crawling underneath.
"The enemy's coming!" Luca suddenly announces, making monster noises that send the kids scrambling inside their creation, shrieking with delight.
My throat tightens. This scene may seem so normal, so ordinary, but it’s everything I've denied us all. The kids have never had this with anyone. I've never allowed it.
I need you to stay away from Luca.
Dom's warning echoes in my head.
He's right to be concerned. If Luca continues digging into the past, he could bring danger to himself, but also to my children if the truth comes out.
But watching him now, I can't reconcile this man with any danger.
He doesn’t even know these are his kids, but he’s sweet and gentle, showing them genuine care.
The guilt of keeping my secret is getting more difficult to bear, especially in moments like this.
"Bedtime," I announce, forcing brightness into my voice.
Groans of protest fill the room, but Luca stands. "Warriors need their rest to fight another day." He glances at me. “I’ll take care of this.”
He scoops up Adalina, who giggles as he carries her upside down toward the hall. Rocco and Elio race after them, eager for their turn.
I return to the kitchen to finish cleaning up but keep an ear toward them, listening to the sounds of teeth brushing, water splashing, and Luca's deep voice making up an impromptu bedtime story about three brave knights who protected their kingdom.
By the time I join them, all three are tucked in, Rocco and Elio in their room, and Adalina in hers.
Their eyes are heavy with sleep but fighting to stay awake for just one more minute with Luca.
"Goodnight, campioni," Luca says to Rocco and Elio, using the Italian word for champions.
“Goodnight,” they chorus back.
In Adalina’s room, she gives him a sweet smile. "Will you come back tomorrow?"
Luca's gaze finds mine, and it feels like he’s seeking permission, not just for tomorrow but for something more permanent.
I should say no. I should remember Dom's warnings.
Instead, I say nothing, caught between the life I've created and the one that could be ours.
After tucking the kids in, Luca and I retreat to the living room. The fort still stands, a monument to the evening’s fun.
“I’ll clean this up,” he says, picking up blankets and pillows.
“I’ll get us some wine.” I go into the kitchen, reconciled that for right now, I want him to stay. I pour us each a glass of wine.
When I return, Luca is plumping up one of the throw pillows. He then drops onto the couch. “Wow, that takes a lot of energy.” He takes the wine I hand him. “Is this how you cope?”
“Wine helps,” I admit, sitting next to him, although I try not to be too close. I have to maintain some distance.
Luca apparently doesn’t think so as he scoots closer to me. “Saluti.” He clinks his glass with mine.
“Saluti.”
Our eyes meet over our glasses as we sip.
My body begins to light up, and I have an urge to put our glasses down and jump him.
Instead, I ask, “"How did it go with your father?"
He sighs, staring down into his wine. “He was amazing, really. He didn’t like being reminded of his situation, but I think he knew it was time. He was gracious.” He scrapes his hand over his face. “He’s an amazing man. I’m not sure how I’ll live up to his legacy.”
I study him, seeing a man who isn’t an ambitious mafioso preparing to take power.
He’s a son grieving the slow loss of his father.
“Your father was always different. I remember being jealous of how Gabriella had so much freedom. I mean, I loved my father, but…”
“Many think my father gave Gabriella too much free rein, but she’s been incredible through all this as well.”
I think of Adalina and whether Luca would give her the same freedom to make choices in her life.
I shake the thought away.
I need to maintain the status quo.
"It must have been difficult to talk to him."
"It was the hardest conversation of my life." He takes my hand, squeezes my fingers. "The ceremony is in a few days. After that, I'll be Don Monti."
"You'll be good at it," I say, meaning it. "Your father prepared you well."
“I hope so.” He closes his eyes, letting his head fall back. It’s as if the ramifications of what’s coming are finally hitting him. It occurs to me that as Don, he won’t have the time to pursue clearing his name.
"With everything that comes with being Don, you probably won't have time to continue investigating my father's case," I venture carefully. "The family will need your full attention."
His head pops up and his expression hardens. "Is that what you want? For me to just let it go?"
"I want you to be safe. I want my children to be safe."
He shakes his head. “You and the kids will be fine. Anyone who has a problem, it will be with me.” His eyes are piercing as they study me. "Why are you so against finding the truth? Don't you want to know who's really responsible for your father's death?"
I pull my hand away realizing we’re about to go around on this same merry-go-round. "If my father were here, he'd tell you the same thing I am. Some stones are better left unturned."
"Or maybe he'd want justice," Luca counters. "Maybe he'd want his daughter to stop living in fear."
"My father understood the cost of vengeance better than anyone," I say, my voice steady despite growing anger that he presumes to know my father better than I do.
"And he'd do anything to protect his family, just like I'm doing now.
" I stand up, wanting to put distance between us.
"My father would have wanted me to keep his grandchildren safe above all else.”