49. Athena
FORTY-NINE
ATHENA
M y husband was right—life worked in mysterious ways.
I never thought I’d meet my half-siblings, yet here they were, along with my uncle, attending my mother’s funeral for moral support. And I’d never thought I’d find love, although I wrote about it, yet here I was with my husband who’d inserted himself into my life and been here for me through so much in such a short time.
My life had changed. Betrayals left a mark, but one thing was for certain. If it wasn’t for some of that treachery, I wouldn’t have found the man who not only saved me but showed me the meaning of loyalty and love. And I wouldn’t have met my half-siblings and uncle who refused to run away from me.
And now, I’d reached a point in my life where I had more family than I knew what to do with and it was a damn good feeling.
It had been three days since my mother’s poisoning. I cried—a lot—over the past three days because even though she had lied, manipulated, and hurt me, her life wasn’t the best, and as much as the cutting ache of her betrayal was still raw and fresh, I had to acknowledge her own pain. My mother was let down by the people she loved the most. I sincerely hoped she was finally at peace.
My father came to visit me last night while my husband and newfound family were busy with last-minute funeral preparations. I was livid with him, although reluctantly, I had to agree with him. My mother was unwell, and there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t eventually come for my baby too.
I didn’t even bother asking him how he knew I was pregnant. I assumed it had to be Danil who told him.
My mother’s funeral came on an uncharacteristically warm December day. Sunlight splayed through the centuries-old cemetery while my family and friends came to pay their respects wearing different shades of black suits and dresses.
A light breeze tousled my dress that hugged my curves, but it was my husband’s arm around me that kept me grounded, his love and care warmer than the summer sun in southern Italy.
“Just let me know if you need anything. We’ll wait for you at the house.” Isla squeezed my hand in comfort before drifting away with her own husband, and soon the rest followed.
I returned my gaze to the simple headstone. It read, Alexandra Kosta Bottelli. The soprano who brought music and joy to many. May you finally find peace and love.
Mother made many mistakes in her life. Yes, she was let down by her parents and certain decisions got her cornered, but it could have easily been different for her. If only she wasn’t born into a mafia family with an old-fashioned and closed mind.
Swallowing, I turned to face my husband. The love I was lucky enough to find. Well, it was more that he found me, but whatever.
He stood toe to toe with me and I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. He stroked my cheek, then traced my lips.
“How are you doing, amorina ?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Not as bad as I should considering my mother was just buried.”
“Like her stone reads, she’s in a better place. I know it’s not easy for you.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “That’s just it. I know it’s better she’s gone. I could have forgiven her for a lot, but hurting our baby…” A muscle tightened in his jaw and a glassy sheen covered his dark gaze. I knew he couldn’t forgive her for hurting me , never mind our child. “It’s just… well, it could have ended differently.”
He nodded. “It could have, but ultimately, Alexandra chose wrong.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I know, but somehow she brought me to you, so I’ll be grateful to her for that.”
He bent his head, his lips meeting mine. “I think destiny always had plans when it came to you and me. It was just biding its time.”
He picked me up, then slowly made his way back to the waiting car while I skimmed my lips over his stubble-covered jaw. “But the wait was so worth it.”
He smiled. “It certainly was, Mrs. Marchetti.”