Page 98 of The Cost of Silence

Matteo immediately points at the turkey. “Him.”

Letty giggles.

Adi shakes his head. “Take it seriously.”

Matteo lifts a hand. “Iamserious. I’m thankful for the turkey and the woman who helped brine it with me last night.”

That wasn’t the end to the evening I expected last night, a late visit from Matteo with a huge bird and a bag of spices.

Isabella blushes.

Her mom beams.

Then Adi goes next. “I’m thankful for Letty, for my brothers, and for… a quiet year.” He stops, expression flickering. “Well. Quieter now.”

We all feel the weight of it.

Dad’s absence is a ghost at the table.

A silence settles, heavy, but not suffocating. Familiar.

Then Letty lifts her chin and whispers, “I’m thankful for my papa. And Uncle Nico. And Uncle Matteo. And cookies.”

Nobody breathes for a moment.

Rossi lifts his glass, having joined us for dinner like he has for the last five years and glances at us. “I’m grateful for you boys keeping me on, and for my latest blood pressure result, by some miracle, being lower.”

There’s a titter around the table at that and I nod when I catch his eye. Rossi is family and there was never a question he would remain when my father passed, at least not for me.

Then Isabella’s mom says softly, “I’m thankful for my daughter… who survived something no mother should ever watch her child endure. And I’m thankful she found people who stepped in where I could not.”

Something like shame and pride collide in my chest. I nod once, unable to speak.

Matteo clears his throat and mutters, “She’s… good. For us.”

Her mom glances at him. “I see that.”

I squeeze Isabella’s hand under the table and she lifts her head. “I’m thankful for the people around this table, for protecting me, for loving me, and for making me smile.”

Then it’s my turn.

And I know exactly what needs to be said. “I’m thankful for the family that raised me,” I begin. “For the one who stands with me now. And for the new pieces of it that we didn’t expect.” I look straight at Isabella. “And I’m thankful she didn’t run when she should have. I’m thankful she stayed.”

Her eyes shine, and I swear I feel the pull of her in my chest.

Then I raise my glass. “To new beginnings.”

They echo it.

“To new beginnings.”

We eat.

We talk.

We laugh.

Letty falls asleep halfway into her second helping of mashed potatoes and curls up in Isabella’s lap. Adi takes her home with a gentle kiss to the top of her head.