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“Rosa’s waiting for us inside.”
Luca grinds his teeth and nods. “How . . . how do I call her? Do I have a pet name for her?”
Something squeezes in my chest upon hearing his question. “You call her ‘piccola,’” I choke out and take his hand in mine.
“And you?”
I blink in confusion. “Me?”
“Yes,” he says and passes his free hand through my hair. “Do I have a pet name for you as well?”
I bite my lip, and stare into his eyes, then whisper. “You sometimes called me ‘tesoro.’”
Luca nods and leans forward. “Thank you, tesoro.”
“You’re welcome.” I choke out, barely able to keep my emotions at bay.
When we enter the house, I face Luca and force a smile. “Welcome home.” I place my palm on his chest, raise onto my tiptoes, and place a quick kiss on his chin. “Viola by the stairs. Martha on the left,” I whisper. “Ask Viola how her son, Fabio, is doing.”
We move toward the stairs, the maids watching us approach. They dip their heads slightly, a welcome home to Luca.
“Mr. Rossi, it’s good to have you back.”
“Thank you, Viola. How’s Fabio?” he asks.
“Better, Mr. Rossi. His leg is healing fine. Thank you for asking.”
Luca nods and places one hand on the stair railing when the sound of running feet reaches us.
“Dad! Daddy!” Rosa shouts, running toward us across the foyer.
Luca turns just in time to catch her as she throws herself into his arms, and I watch Luca’s face, holding my breath. My hope that seeing Rosa would trigger something in his brain and help him remember quickly fades when Luca turns to me with a haunted look in his eyes. I hold utterly still, carefully schooling my features. He still doesn’t remember his daughter.
“They wouldn’t let me visit you in the hospital!” Rosa weeps, clinging to his neck. “I was so scared.”
“Hospitals are not places for kids, piccola,” Luca whispers, gently holding the back of her head with his bandaged hand.
“Did they really open your head? Uncle Damian said they did and had to patch it back together with iron nails because your head was too thick for them to sew it.”
“Well, you know your uncle is an idiot. Don’t listen to him.”
“I knew it.” She laughs. “Can I see?”
Luca turns his head to show her, and Rosa makes a disgusted face. “Yuck, Dad. That’s nasty. And what’s with the hipster haircut? You’re too old for that. Isa, did you see this?”
“Yup,” I say and notice Luca watching me. “I love it.”
“I have to go. Clara will be here in fifteen, and Grace is making us a cake.” Rosa kisses Luca’s cheek. “Love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Rosa.”
She dashes off to the kitchen. Luca stares after her with a somewhat shuttered look in his eye, and my heart squeezes. How do you deal with the fact you don’t have any recollection of your own kid?
* * *
I open the door between our rooms and peek inside. “Luca?”
For a second, panic rises in my stomach. What if something’s happened? The doctor said they did a thorough evaluation, and with the exception of his memory loss, every other test came back with positive results. Still, I’m constantly on edge. The sound of running water in the bathroom reaches me, and I exhale in relief.
