Epilogue
Elio-again
Baby Adriano eats every two hours. Not approximately.
Not when he gets around to it. Every two hours, like clockwork.
I’ve seen train conductors with less of a grasp on time and schedules.
Every two hours the little demon opens his mouth and screams until someone fixes the situation.
That someone is usually me. There’s no cajoling him either.
He has his father’s unwillingness to negotiate.
Marcello offered to take this feeding but I told him to sleep.
While I’m exhausted, I can bumble around tomorrow in sweats mumbling to myself.
He has to actually go out and talk to people like a real person.
He has a meeting where he’ll have to face a room full of capos who are annoyed about something.
They’re always annoyed about something. He shouldn’t do that on no sleep.
It’s too dangerous. When I declined his offer to feed Baby Adriano, he argued for about ten seconds and then passed out.
That just hammered home what the last month has been like for us.
We’re more like zombies than new parents.
It’s been a full month since Baby Adriano was born.
It doesn’t feel like a month. It feels like a week that lasted two years.
The days have collapsed into a cycle of feeding, burping, changing, rocking, and the brief stretches of unconsciousness that I’m told qualify as sleep.
I haven’t showered before noon in weeks and not even every day.
I eat whatever Ornella puts in front of me, standing up, usually with one hand, usually cold.
I have spit-up on at least one piece of clothing at all times.
Fabio helps every chance he gets, and Marcello’s family helps too, but there are times when the baby only wants me and he won’t take no for an answer.
The stupid thing is, I’ve never been happier in my life. I’m sleep-deprived and up to my elbows every day in dirty diapers, but I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. It all comes down to some simple facts. Fabio is healthy, Marcello loves me, and Baby Adriano is now a part of our world.
The baby finishes eating and pulls off and makes a face like he’s considering whether to scream about something else, or to sleep.
I lift him to my shoulder and pat his back and wait.
He burps with a force that seems physically impossible for someone who weighs eleven pounds, and then he goes limp against me.
I should put him in the crib, but I don’t.
I sit in the dark with his weight on my shoulder and his breath against my neck.
While these mornings are torture, I also enjoy them on some level.
It’s just me and Baby Adriano as I watch the window lighten by degrees, the garden going from black to gray, the shapes of the trees emerging.
Some mornings I think about my parents. Not with grief exactly, though that’s still there.
I think it always will be. But these emotions are more about feeling a solidarity with them.
After all, I’m sure my parents did this too.
They sat in the dark with their babies and probably talked about the future.
About their hopes and dreams for us and themselves.
If they’re looking down on us now, I hope they know how hard I tried to be there for Fabio when they died. I hope they’re proud of me.
I hope Mom forgives me for it being her in that car instead of me.
I jump when Marcello appears in the doorway of the nursery. His hair is sticking up and he’s wearing silk pajamas that are buttoned wrong. “Come to bed,” he mumbles, leaning on the doorjamb. “Bring the baby if you want, but I can’t sleep without you in the bed.”
“Are you sure we won’t disturb you?” I ask, standing.
“You not being there is what’s disturbing me.” He sounds grumpy as he puts his big hand on the back of my neck and steers me toward our bedroom.
The three of us climb into bed. I don’t lie down because I worry I’ll roll over and squash or suffocate Baby Adriano, but I sit beside Marcello. That seems to work for him because he snuggles against me with his head in my lap. I run my fingers through his dark hair, smiling down at him.
“Mama is planning a huge Easter thing here,” he mumbles. “If you don’t want to do it, I’ll cancel it.”
“No, don’t cancel it. She told me already. It sounds like fun.”
He snorts. “The baby won’t even remember it. It’s dumb and a waste of time, money, and most importantly energy.”
I laugh. “You’re so damn tired you don’t even know what you’re saying.”
“I do so,” he grouses, snuggling against me some more. “I’m sick of people. I want to just be with you and the baby. Make all the other people go away, will you?”
“Okay. The only way I know how to do that is to take a little trip. Maybe we could fit that in after Mama’s Easter thing.”
He groans. “Why must you be so accommodating to my family?”
“You love that about me.”
“Not when I don’t get what I want.” He sounds like a bratty kid.
“Marcello, Serafina said this Easter thing was always a tradition with your family. All through the generations. She said your family has never missed a year.”
“God, shouldn’t she want a break from the boring Easter thing?” He sighs. “I do.”
I frown down at the back of his head. “I’m surprised at you, Marcello.
This means a lot to your mother.” I clear my throat.
“And also… I… I like traditions. I’d give anything to celebrate some family traditions with my parents.
You shouldn’t take them for granted. You of all people know that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. ”
He goes very still and then he lifts his head. The morning light filtering through the curtains shows guilt shimmering in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m acting like a baby because I’m tired from… you know… our baby.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I know, but if your family were gone tomorrow, wouldn’t you wish you’d spent this Easter with them?”
“Yes.” He sits up. “I’m sorry, Elio. You’re right. I’m delirious with lack of sleep. Forgive, mio. I’ll do better.”
I take hold of his chin. “You’d better. Family is everything.”
“It is. You’re right.” He leans in and kisses me. “How can I make it up to you? Shall I dress up like the Easter Bunny if Mama asks me again this year?”
I widen my eyes. “She asked you to do that before?”
“She asks me every year, and every year I make Carlo do it.” He smirks. “He makes a very convincing rabbit.”
I laugh and the baby fusses as if about to wake, making me freeze. We both look down at the snoozing baby and I’m relieved when he stays asleep. “That was close,” I whisper.
“Too close.” He slowly moves to sit beside me against the headboard. He pulls the blankets up carefully and leans his muscular shoulder into mine. “I do like your idea about a little trip with just us and Adriano Jr.”
“Me too.”
“We could go to my family villa in Tuscany.”
“I didn’t know you had a villa in Tuscany.” I lift my brows.
“Oh, yes, we have two, but one we rent out to tourists.” He rubs his chin. “The one we don’t rent out would be perfect. Let’s decide on some dates and I’ll call the caretaker to make sure it’s clean and ready for us.”
“The only thing is, if it’s just the three of us, we won’t have anyone to help us with the baby. It’ll be all on us.”
He smirks. “That’s okay. Here, we can’t let Adriano cry himself to sleep because he’ll wake up the whole family.
But in Tuscany, the villa is high on a hill above the ocean.
There is nothing but land around the place.
Adriano could cry all night, and no one would care. There are no neighbors for miles.”
I wince. “I don’t think I could stand to hear him cry for too long.”
He narrows his eyes. “But that’s how you get a baby to sleep through the night.”
“Babies don’t usually sleep through the night until maybe three months?” I bite my lip, holding his gaze. “And even then, we’re only talking about six-hour stretches.”
“Hmmm, earplugs?”
“Marcello, I can’t just ignore my crying baby.”
He purses his lips, deep in thought. Then he brightens.
“The villa has a guest house. We could bring Fabio as our manny. We’d all have plenty of privacy because the guest house is completely separate.
Fabio would have an all-expenses-paid vacation to Tuscany, and all he’d have to do is watch the baby a couple of nights a week while we went out on the town. ”
I hesitate. “He might be willing. He’s feeling strong now and I know he’s always wanted to go to Italy.”
“Then it’s settled.”
I laugh. “Well, I do still have to ask Fabio if he’d be willing. He does have some say in this.”
He frowns. “Okay. I guess. Ask him tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll say yes. Fabio is a good kid and if he seems like he’s going to say no, just remind him of all you’ve done for him.”
I recoil. “Marcello, I would never do that.”
“But he needs to say yes.”
I roll my eyes. “He’ll probably say yes out of the goodness of his heart. Jesus, I can’t emotionally blackmail my own brother. What is wrong with you?”
He laughs, appearing unfazed by my criticism. “You’re not a very good negotiator, Elio.”
I lean toward him. “I don’t have to negotiate with my brother. I can just ask him. Like a normal person.”
He shrugs. “Okay. If that’s how you want to play it.”
I’m suspicious of how easily he capitulated. “And you can’t emotionally blackmail him either.”
He wrinkles his brow. “No? Why not? I’m not his brother.”
“Oh, my god, Marcello.” I laugh because I don’t know what else to do. “You’re not a very nice person, are you?”
“Nice?” He says the word with disdain. “Of course I’m not nice. I’m Marcello Foschini. If I were nice, I would be dead by now.” He mutters some other things in Italian, which, thankfully, I don’t understand.
“I’ll handle Fabio. You just decide on dates that work for you and having the villa prepared or whatever. Do not talk to Fabio, do you understand?”
“Now I can’t even talk to Fabio?”
“You know what I mean. You can’t talk to him about Tuscany or doing favors. You can talk to him about other things, but not that stuff.” I squint at him. “Do you understand?”
He smiles suddenly. “You’re very bossy this morning. I like it. Try and be bossy in Italy too. Bossy sex would be fun.”
“You’re so strange.”
He ignores that comment and lays his head on my lap again. “I’m excited about our Tuscany vacation. It’ll be our first trip together. We never got a honeymoon. This can be our honeymoon.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“Yes.” He glances at the sleeping baby. “Maybe not as romantic as a honeymoon without a baby along for the ride, but I wouldn’t want to leave him behind anyway. Nobody will protect him like we will.”
“That’s true.”
“Speaking of protection, we need to bring at least one person with us for security. Something tells me that Fabio isn’t made for that kind of work.” He grins. “But Carlo is. We’ll bring him.”
“Wait, you want to invite Carlo on our romantic vacation?”
“He’ll provide security, that’s all. I’m a target, Elio. We can’t not have any security with us. Don’t worry. He’ll sleep in a room as far from ours as possible. My villa is huge. It won’t be a problem. You won’t even see him unless we’re under attack.”
“This romantic vacation is beginning to sound very complicated, crowded, and stressful.”
He laughs. “No, it’ll be perfect. I promise you. You won’t even know Carlo is around. He’s very stealthy when he wants to be.”
“Is that how he got his nickname Carlo the Carver? By being so stealthy?” I shudder. “Maybe we should just stay home.”
“Don’t be silly.” He yawns. “The ball is already in motion.”
“How? We haven’t left the bed.”
He closes his eyes. “Now I’m going to dream of our Tuscan vacation. Don’t worry about waking me. My alarm is set on my phone.”
“Okay.” I’ve barely finished speaking when he begins snoring. “He’s asleep already?” I mumble to myself. But as I watch him sleep, I smile. I can’t help it. I love Marcello with all my heart, even if we’re completely different people.
I remember being intimidated by Marcello when we first met.
He’d been hard and mysterious, and even then I’d sensed something dark in him.
What I hadn’t understood was that the darkness wasn’t all there was.
There was gentleness in him too, though he kept it buried deep.
That was the part of Marcello that drew me in.
The part that made me trust him, then love him.
Even now, there are days when that darker side of my alpha feels like it’s swallowing everything else. Days when I wonder if I’ve imagined the softer man beneath it. But then I touch him, or catch his eye, or make him smile, and there he is again. The man I fell in love with. Still there.
Coming out of the darkness to watch over me. To protect me. To love me.