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Salvatore comes over and kneels down in front of me, placing his hands on the bump. You, little monster,” Salvatore says to the baby. “Don’t kick your mother so hard. She’s soft and beautiful and doesn’t deserve it. Little kicks only, just to say hi to her and your daddies, okay?”
The kicking doesn’t stop. “I don’t think our little bean is listening to you, Salvatore.”
My eyes are drawn back to the television where Galloway is still being interviewed. The others stare at him as well.
Lorenzo folds his arms, his expression cold and suspicious. “You know what? I’ve always thought Galloway was a fucking creep.”
* * *
The baby showeris held at Salvatore’s house three days later. It’s Sunday afternoon and the sun is shining through the big window onto the garden. Pastel-colored bunting is strung up across the room and the coffee table is covered in finger sandwiches, pink and blue cupcakes, and the sleeping teddy bear cake as the centerpiece.
I’m covered in scraps of cute wrapping paper. I lift a tiny pajama set printed with yellow ducks up for the others to see. “Oh, this is so sweet! Thank you, Rosaline.”
She leans over and gives me a hug. “You’re welcome. I can’t wait to meet the little one.”
“Ginevra, he’s justperfect.” Nicole is holding Camillo, gazing down adoringly into his face. Sophia and Candace are standing at her shoulders, making faces at the baby.
“He’s a little tyrant,” Ginevra says, amused, peeling the paper wrapper from a cupcake. But we love him. He’s going to be a handsome devil like his daddy and his uncle Salvatore, I can just tell.”
“He’s an angel. Aren’t you, Camillo?” Sophia coos.
Ginevra laughs. “Every woman who meets him turns to mush, but you should see him at bedtime when Antonio or I are trying to get him to sleep.”
Lately, Camillo has found his lungs and I’ve heard the way he can scream when he’s hungry or overtired. I wonder if he gets that from the Fiore side. I put my hand over my belly. God, I hope not.
“Time to cut the cake,” I announce, brushing torn paper from my lap and reaching for the cake knife. The vanilla sponge is filled with cream and raspberry sauce, and my mouth waters as I hand out slices to the girls and then settle back with my own enormous piece.
Salvatore, Vinicius, Cassius, and Lorenzo are in the next room, and they’ve told me to enjoy myself and save them some cake. There’s no problem with that as the cake is huge. And I am enjoying myself. I’ve given myself permission not to think about a certain father and killer for a whole afternoon.
Sophia sits down on the opposite sofa, hugs an enormous teddy bear and sighs. “When am I going to have children? I’m so broody sitting here with all this baby stuff.”
“You need a man first,” Candace points out, forking some cake into her mouth.
Rosaline cups her hands around her mouth and in a loud whisper says, “You only need him for a few minutes. That’s all it takes.”
Sophia bursts out laughing. Turning to Nicole, she asks, “Do you want children?”
Nicole looks wistful as she gently bounces Camillo. “Oh, so much. I’ve wanted babies since I was a little girl. My family has a holiday house and I’ve always imagined taking my children there in the summer. Do you remember that house, Chiara? You came there a few times.”
I finish my mouthful of cake and nod. “They were wonderful holidays.”
There would be me and Mom, Nicole and Mrs. De Luca. Sometimes Dad would be there, and Mr. De Luca too, but work was always calling them away. Dad had mayoral work and Mr. De Luca is a medical researcher and always had to speak at conferences. Mom and Mrs. De Luca would cook, play cards, and drink wine, and Nicole and I would run around playing games all day.
“After the baby is born, you’ll have to come out to our holiday house in the summer,” Nicole tells me.
I give her a delighted smile. “I would love that, thank you. We always had the best times at your holiday house.”
How wonderful it would be to have a holiday home of our own. A place for me and my men and our children where we could relax and invite our friends. Somewhere with a big kitchen and a deck, and views of mountains or a beach or a lake. I explored some beautiful holiday homes with Mom while she was still alive. I usually saw every room because I loved to play hide and seek and would find the best hiding spots in the garage or the attic or the…
Chiara? Where are you? You know that the basement is out of bounds.
…basement.
A memory suddenly washes over me. A dark, frightening memory of a cold place filled with strange smells and damp concrete. The smells invade my nostrils and suddenly the raspberry jelly on my plate looks like smeared blood.
I get to my feet as my throat convulses.
Chiara, I know you’re down here.
