He smirked. “I like these new terms.”
So did I.
My wife had given me back my family, just like she had given me back my emotions.
As I thought of how much I truly owed her, a small yawn took my attention to my wife’s sleepy smile that found me instantly. She looked down in her lap and ran her hand down her sister’s hair once before looking over at Bella and lost her smile.
“Did Ezio give you our new contract?” she asked, looking between me and Brenno.
I nodded once, my lips tugging upward. “We signed it, angel.”
“You did?” another voice said from Sicily’s lap, stretching awake across her like a cat. “Even the part about all the vacationing we need to do?”
Brenno nodded with a laugh. “What happens to us if we don’t attend the vacation?”
Fiorella slid off Sicily’s lap and lowered herself onto him instead. She whispered something into his ear that made him smirk, and I was somewhat glad that I did not have to hear whatever had come out of her mouth.
I strolled toward my wife, sliding into the space next to her. “I must thank you, angel.”
She frowned. “For what?”
“For bringing enough emotion into my life that I can heal alongside my brothers.”
Sicily slipped her hand into mine, squeezing tightly. “I think we all need to heal. Together.”
“Together, yes. That sounds…happy.”
33
SICILY
ONE MONTH LATER
The following month after Fiore,Bella, and I locked our husbands in the Feras’ dungeon brought nothing but peace.
The days began and ended with family, we ate dinner together more weekends than not, Fiorella and I had talked through more than we’d had time to that night, and though Cesare was away getting the help he needed, Bella had found solace in spending time with Milan and Francesco.
Sometimes I looked at us, at me and Milan, at Adriano and Francesco, and I wondered how we’d got here from the wedding of a nightmare. Luck wasn’t the right word because we had worked for this, but luck was what I thought of when I became surrounded by the love that we’d never thought we deserved.
Even when the house became quiet and still, I always knew there was someone around, so when I couldn’t find anyone that afternoon, I walked slowly down the corridor I hadn’t been in since mine and Milan’s argument. Padding toward the gentle glow of light emanating from the double glass doors, a small lump formed in my throat as I remembered what happened the last time I found him in the library, and that lump turned into a full ball of nerves when I saw my husband sitting on the long couch, frowning down at the book he’d raised his siblings with.
This time though, he had a pink highlighter twiddling between his fingers.
“Hey,” I said, swallowing it all down.
His head shot up immediately, and my shoulders released as he smiled. “Hello, angel.”
“What are you reading?”
He opened his arms, and I flopped into his chest with a small sigh, burrowing deep into the warmth pressed into the crevices and creases of his shirt.
He was so soft, so safe, so verymine.
He held the old book between us, propping it up to show me where the colors of his brothers’ and his sister’s favorite parts of the story were highlighted.
Milan let out a hum as he said, “I was reading my favorite part. I was unsure if I should highlight it like I had for my siblings.”
“You should, Milan,” I replied instantly, knowing that this would close off a part of the past that had never quite let him go. “What color do you have?”
