“Fuck. I’m so sorry. I know it hurts,” I say as I lean her against the tub.
She squeezes my neck in response, and once she’s finally submerged, she lets go and exhales shakily, eyes squeezed shut. I kneel by the tub and lather her in body wash, careful not to apply too much pressure. Then I wash her hair as best I can, shampoo then conditioner, quickly finger-combing the latter through.
“Raf, everything okay, honey?” asks my mom from outside the door.
“Yep. All good.” I don’t mean for it to come out clipped, because I’m grateful that everyone is here for Chiara. But there’s a part of me that wants privacy to deal with this alone. Just me and my wife.
Chiara opens her eyes and stares up at me. “Raf, be kind to your mother,” she chides weakly.
“I’m sorry.” I press my forehead to hers. “I just want to be alone. To hold you and never let you go. To tell you that I…” She places her finger over my lips, gasping with the effort to lift her arm.
“Go,” she says hoarsely. “I want that too. It’s not ideal, but it might be good to bond with my mother-in-law.”
“Well as you would say, the cat’s well and truly out of the bag.”
She giggles softly. “You’re catching on, husband.”
I give her one more kiss on the lips then rise and open the door for my mom.
“Your father would really like to speak with you,” she says. “He’s out there with the rest of the family.”
Mom walks in and perches on the edge of the bath, taking Chiara’s hand in hers. I move out of sight but wait to hear what she says.
“Hi, honey. I could ask you how you’re feeling, but I think we both know it’s been a rough day,” she says sympathetically. “So instead, how about I say welcome to the family.”
“I like the sound of that very much,” says Chiara, her voice breaking.
I rub my stinging eyes and swallow thickly, walking out of the room and straight into my father.
“Son, how is she doing?” he asks, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Sore and tired, emotionally drained, but happy to be home.”
“And you?”
“About the same. It’s been a long day.” I tilt my head towards the door. “Let’s go to my den.”
He follows me down the hallway, and I wave at him to take a seat on the couch, smiling to myself at the memory of Chiara on the very same one.
“Scotch?” I ask.
He nods and I pour us both one.
“How did the rest of the trial go?” I ask, handing him a tumbler.
“As you know, the judge ruled the video evidence inadmissible. The jury is in recess, but I think we’ll have our verdict tomorrow. The DNA evidence was a strong sticking point. Sophia stepped up in your absence. She is a natural.”
“Good. That fucker deserves to rot in jail. What about Mia?”
“She was emotional but determined to see this through. You were correct to go with your gut, Raf. I may be the old guard, but I’m not always right.”
“Is that an apology?”
“Not going to let me off the hook, are you?”
“Learned from the best,” I state.
“I’m sorry for undermining and underestimating you. You’re one hell of a lawyer, but not only that, you’ve also proven that you make one hell of a husband,” he says, raising his glass to me. “I don’t want the details of what transpired today, but if I can give you any advice man to man, father to son, it’s this: When it comes to the woman you love, use whatever means necessary to protect and keep her safe. It’s the unwritten law.”
