Amelia home.
She looks up, then, as if she feels me watching her.
Her smile finds me across the room, and I cross to her without thinking.
I do that a lot now.
Go to her. Touch her. Kiss her.
Many times a day.
Because there were hours when I thought I would never get the chance again.
She tilts her face up when I reach her, and I bend to press my mouth to hers.
The room whistles.
Olivia groans.
“Daddy, that was romantic, but we’re having a cast signing event.”
I pull back just enough to look at her.
“You have no available space left on that cast,piccola.”
“That’s not true. Uncle Steffy says there’s room near my elbow.”
Stefano lifts both hands when I glare at him.
“I said perhaps.”
“You said definitely,” Olivia argues.
“I was wounded when I said this. My memory is fragile.”
“You just said it this morning,” she laughs. “You were wounded a month ago.”
“Trauma lingers.”
Skip nods from across the room. “He’s right. I once stubbed my toe in 2019, and I still bring it up when people ask me to move furniture.”
Amelia laughs.
The sound moves through me like warmth.
I want to keep that sound forever.
Bottle it.
Lock it somewhere safe.
Build a fortress around it and dare anyone to try and take it from me.
But I’ve learned something.
You can’t protect love by locking it away.
You protect it by standing beside it.
