Epilogue I
THEA
December…
Lev Gabriel Moretti is only eleven days old, and already he has his father wrapped around his tiny, adorable finger.
I watch him from the bed, propped up on a thousand pillows—Gabriel’s idea. He’s always looking for something to do, some way to help. And for some reason, his default move is always to bring me another pillow.
“Alright,” he says, Lev on the changing table in front of him. “A little wipe, then the diaper goes on.”
He’s done this every morning since we got home from the hospital. He gets up before dawn, checks on Lev and me, then does the first diaper change of the day with the sort of focus and precision that you’d expect from someone diffusing a bomb.
He doesn’t know I’m awake. And that’s fine; I love watching him.
Diaper changed, he gently places Lev against his shoulder and makes his way over to the window. This is the other part of the morning routine—he looks out over the backyard, speaking with his little boy. Sometimes it’s in Italian, sometimes English.
But it’s always loving.
“You’re going to spoil him,” I say sleepily. “All this attention.”
He glances over his shoulder, gently patting Lev on his tiny back.
“One of my philosophies of parenting so far is that you can’t go overboard with love.”
My heart tingles, and I can’t help but smile.
“I like that. You should write a book.”
“A mafia don’s guide to parenting,” he says with a chuckle. “Might be good. Or incriminating.”
I watch Lev, his eyelids drooping until he’s back asleep. Gabriel strokes his back with his huge hand, and once again, I’m struck by just how gentle he is with this tiny, perfect little human.
“He’s out,” I say.
Gabriel nods, making his way slowly over to the bassinet where he sets Lev down like he’s made of glass. Gabriel’s eyes don’t leave our son. He watches him with wonder, like he always does.
I step over to the bassinet, resting my head on Gabriel’s shoulder as I look down at our boy.
He’s perfect.
The doorbell rings at noon, and I know just who it is. I hurry to the balcony and look out over the entrance just in time to see Oscar approach the big front doors and open them. The hallway is adorned with garland and lights for the Christmas season.
“Miss Liza,” he says. “Welcome back. May I take your coat?”
“Oh, that’s okay, Oscar. I can put it away myself.”
“Nonsense. Please.”
I watch as Liza enters, a small gift bag in her hands. It’s been months since I’d last seen her, months since she left to travel to LA in hopes of patching things up with Sissy. She looks smaller than I remember.
Behind her, stepping through the door with wide-eyed caution, is Sissy.
My former best friend, my almost sister, the girl I shared a bedroom with until I was eighteen and then vanished from my life. She looks the same, just a little older, her hair lightened from the sun and her skin tanned.
“Hey, Sis,” I say from the top of the stairs.
When she looks up at me, her eyes brighten instantly.
For just a moment, we’re back to being five-year-olds who couldn’t leave one another’s side.
I rush down the stairs, letting out a little shriek of excitement as we throw our arms around one another.
The hug is awkward yet fierce, and long overdue.
“I can’t believe it’s you!” she shouts, squeezing me tightly.
“And I can’t believe it’s you!”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell her.
I let her go, and she holds up her gift—a little stuffed elephant.
“I didn’t know what to bring. Then I remembered when you were little, you had that little stuffed elephant, the one you’d always bring over. What was his name?”
“Trunky!” I exclaim, the name coming out of my mouth with an enthusiasm that surprises me.
“That’s it!” She smiles broadly. “I figured, like mother, like son, right?”
I take the elephant, giving it a little squeeze before going back in for another hug.
“Thank you so much, Sis. And thanks for coming.”
She tilts her head back at Liza. “You can thank Mom for talking me into it. Easy to get sucked into an LA bubble when you’re out there and forget the rest of the world exists.”
I glance at Liza. Her expression is warm but tense, suggesting that the process of reconciliation between the two of them has only just begun. But I’m glad to see it happening.
Sissy purses her lips, and I can sense that what she’s going to say next isn’t easy.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she says. “Mom told me everything. I can’t… Thea, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.
“I know. It’s okay.”
To be honest, it’s not okay. Not yet. Memories of what happened with Kolya still feel fresh.
But it’s a start. The two of them being here means more than I ever expected.
Liza hangs back by the door, watching us.
It’s good to see her again. Gabriel didn’t keep her around for much longer after the Kolya incident.
In fact, he doubled her pay for the couple of months she worked here and made sure to give her a handsome severance package—a nice big check, a plane ticket to LA, and an apartment in Santa Monica with a 12-month lease, already paid.
The message had been clear—go to LA, find your daughter, make things right.
“Good to see you,” she says, coming over and offering her gift bag. “And congratulations.”
“Good to see you, too.”
We hug. Our weird little family is back together. I couldn’t be happier.
By two o’clock, snow is falling. We’re all gathered in the living room under the shade of the massive Christmas tree Gabriel picked out.
“I can’t get over the size of this thing,” Liza says, looking up at it, positively dwarfed.
“Gabriel insisted,” I say with a smile.
He’s seated in an armchair by the fire, Lev dozing peacefully on his chest.
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to have our little bambino’s first Christmas be a humble affair,” he says.
Sylvie is beside me on the couch, holding a mug of tea that Oscar keeps refilling. She’s gained a healthy amount of weight back since the Kolya incident. She’s been living with us ever since, and no one is in any hurry to have her move out.
“Yeah,” she says with a smile. “And when Christmas is over, you can hollow it out and make a canoe with it.”
Everyone laughs. It’s good to see Sylvie smile, to hear her laugh. For the first few months, she was practically a ghost. It’s going to take time for her to recover from the trauma of what Kolya did to her. But I’m more than happy to be here for her in the meantime.
Oscar enters. “More tea, anyone?” he asks, “or coffee?”
He tilts his head, noticing that Sissy’s mug is empty. Without a word, he comes over and tops her off.
“Oh,” she says, “you don’t have to.”
“It’s my pleasure, signora.”
Gabriel checks his watch. “Oscar, why don’t we call it an early day? Come sit with us.”
Oscar smiles and nods politely. “If you insist, sir. I wouldn’t mind a little time by the fire, especially on such a snowy day.”
With that, he departs.
“Is it always this fancy?” Sissy asks. “A butler? Really?”
“Don’t forget I was a maid here for a time,” Liza says. “And the strangest thing is, despite everything, I find myself looking back on it with fondness.”
“Good bosses will do that to you,” I respond with a wink.
I can’t resist getting up, going over to Gabriel and Lev. I lean in and kiss Lev on his chubby cheek, Gabriel taking the opportunity to plant a kiss of his own on my forehead.
“Love you,” he says quietly, so only I can hear it.
“Love you, too.”
I go back over to the couch and sit, leaning my head on Sylvie’s shoulder. She lets me. Gabriel meets my eyes over our son’s dark hair and smiles. Liza and Sissy chatter away, still catching up on the years they missed.
Outside, snow is falling.
I couldn’t ask for anything more.