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“I didn’t do anything.”
Dominic laughed. “The hell you didn’t. You think that’s Dad’s doing? He brought her here, but you made the difference. Mom always said you’d do great things in life, and I see it now, because no matter what you do tomorrow, Carmine, what matters is you did that today.”
Carmine gazed at Haven as he mulled over his brother’s words. She seemed so relaxed, so at ease, so much like a regular girl. Just looking at her, laughing and chatting, it was hard to imagine she’d been through the things she’d endured. “All I did was love her.”
“Ever think maybe that’s what she needed? Sometimes we don’t have to really do anything. We have to just be.”
They sat there until the flask was empty. Carmine slipped it into his pocket as Dominic stood. “You know what’s kind of funny? Well, not funny, but ironic, maybe? She’s been here nine months now, and it takes nine months to create life. It’s like she’s been reborn.”
Dominic walked away but paused after a few steps, his brow furrowed. “Actually, I don’t think that’s irony. Haven would probably correct me again and say I was being symbolic.”
Carmine chuckled. “Or metaphoric.”
35
A shiver ran the length of Carmine’s body, causing his muscles to grow taut. Haven stared at his sleeping form for a while, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. There was a stirring inside of her, warmth starting deep inside her chest. It frightened her, yet it made her feel like she was floating on air.
It was hope.
Haven grabbed the blanket and covered Carmine before climbing out of bed. She dressed, giving him one last look before heading downstairs to the kitchen. She pulled out the ingredients for an Italian cream cake and had the batter together when subtle footsteps echoed behind her. They were restrained, the steps of someone trying to go undetected.
But Haven noticed.
Her hands shook as she scooped the batter into pans, attempting to ignore the presence. She put the cake into the oven and set the timer. A cold chill ran the length of Haven’s spine when Corrado finally spoke, his voice quiet and flat. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Moretti,” she said, turning to look at him. He was dressed in a black suit, his jacket open and hands in his pockets. “Can I get you something?”
He didn’t move, his stance so statuesque she wondered if he was even breathing. “No,” he said finally, the word echoing in the tense silence.
She resumed making the frosting as he moved toward her. Instinctively, she took a step away. If Katrina had taught her anything, it was to stay out of the way whenever possible.
Corrado grabbed a bottle of water and stood off to the side, watching some more. Dr. DeMarco walked in after a few minutes and gave Corrado a curious look before his eyes found their way to her. “Good morning, dolcezza.”
She breathed a sigh of relief at the kindness in his voice. “Good morning, sir.”
“I’m surprised to see you awake so early today,” he said. “I take it Carmine’s still asleep?”
“Yes, sir.”
The timer for the oven went off. Haven pulled out the cake layers as Dr. DeMarco stood near her, gazing out the window with a wistful expression. The sun was rising, lighting up the driveway and the thick forest surrounding the property.
“They’ll be here soon,” he said, his attention shifting to the cake. “Italian cream cake.”
“I made it for Carmine’s birthday.”
Irritation flashed across his face.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Corrado asked from across the room. “I’ve never felt such a strong sense of déjà vu before.”
Dr. DeMarco clenched his teeth, turning his gaze outside. “When you finish, child, I need you to make sure Carmine’s awake. I’d go myself, but something tells me he’s probably not decent.”
He stressed the word decent. Haven’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, sir.”
Corrado laughed. “I’m quite sure this is one of those times Carmine was referring to, Vincent.”
Dr. DeMarco shook his head and left the kitchen, while Corrado lingered. “When you wake Carmine, tell him his godfather is coming.” He walked out, muttering, “Tale il padre, tale il figlio,” under his breath.
* * *
