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As the two men shook hands, I couldn’t take my eyes off the little boy. I couldn’t breathe or think, other than I was terrified I’d scare him.
When Francesco knelt beside me, the little boy glanced up at Frank then back toward us.
“We were surprised when you called him Tony since the church named him Anthony after the patron saint of the poor,” Frank said. “I knew then that this was meant to be. We always knew his real parents would find him. Anthony, this is your mother and father, the people I told you about?”
I’d missed all the special early days. Breastfeeding, crawling for the first time. When he said the word ‘mama’ and ‘daddy’ and stood and walked. But this… this was the best day of my life and one I would never forget.
I crawled slightly closer, making certain I was on his eye level.
“It’s okay, Anthony,” Angela whispered. “He’s a good little boy.”
There was no doubt the two of them had cared for him. I glanced up at both, miming the ‘thank you’ then sat down on the grass, allowing Anthony to decide whether or not it was safe to come to us.
Seconds later, he pulled away from Angela’s hand, taking a single tiny step closer. And if I didn’t believe in miracles before, I did now.
The little boy, my little boy, rushed into my lap, throwing his arms around me. And I heard the word I’d longed to hear.
“Mommy.”
EPILOGUE
“Family is not an important thing. It is everything.”
—Michael J. Fox
Jamaica
Four months later…
Francesco
I stood with a drink in my hand, surveying the scene as it unfolded. There was music blaring and people dancing, the colorful lights that had been strung from one palm tree to another adding to the dazzling spray of colors crisscrossing the late afternoon sky. Fortunately, the weather was perfect, the predicted tropical storm moving in another direction.
Nothing could be more serene than standing in my bare feet by the edge of the ocean, watching my entire family acting as if they were children.
A pig was currently roasting in the pit Viper, Max, and I had created the day before, the scent and smoke adding to the festive atmosphere. Between the shrieks and booming laughter of the children from my blended family as well as that of Cayman and his sisters, it was honestly difficult to hear myself think.
But I’d been doing just that, reflecting on the moment so I would never forget how important it was. Today was my wedding day, something that would never happen again. Christiana and I had made the decision to wait until Anthony was more settled in his new home to tie the knot. I also wanted it to be special and this was the only place we’d wanted to come.
I caught the sound of Mama Martisha’s laughter floating across the sound. She was a powerful woman in her own right, Cayman not doing her enough justice as to just how special his mother truly was. As a single mom, she’d beaten the odds, raising four kids by herself in an area embroiled in poverty.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Maxwell’s approach, the man swaggering through the sand as if he owned the entire island. I did love that about him, which was why I couldn’t help laughing. Granted, maybe the two shots of tequila or the copious amounts of alcohol at the very intimate and very controlled bachelor party the night before was the reason I felt relaxed.
Or maybe it was the fact my blushing bride to be couldn’t take her eyes off me and vice versa. In her tropical dress, one designed by one of Cayman’s sisters, hand sewn by another, she was the epitome of an island princess.
And the insanely beautiful mother of my little boy. Who was never far from his mother.
Max followed my gaze as he flanked my side. “You are a lucky man.”
“I know I am. Blessed.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
Huffing, I shot him a look. “I know. Maybe old dogs can learn new tricks. Eh?”
“Always, my godson. Always.” We both laughed and he clapped me on the back. “This is perfect.”
“Yeah, it is. Cayman had a good idea.”
