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“Perfection,” he says with a short chuckle. “I might have a hard time accepting it’s impossible. I’m glad I’ve realized what I have.”
“I’d like it if you could apologize to Salvatore. Tell him you’re sorry for everything and you’ll respect our marriage. That you’re going to let go of this feud,” I say with hope in my tone of voice.
“I owe it to him, don’t I?”
“That’s putting it lightly.”
“No need. I heard it all.”
Dad and I look up toward the doorway of the birthing room. Salvatore’s standing by with Dominic dozing in his arms. Our boy is collapsed against his chest, using his shoulder as a pillow.
“I heard every word,” Salvatore says simply, giving no discernible reaction. His expression is as composed as ever as he approaches us. “It takes a big man to admit he was wrong. I’m glad you’ve finally reached that conclusion, Ernest.”
I stand back and let the two of them interact. In the past, I’ve done the opposite; Salvatore and Dad detested each other to such a degree that I never allowed them to be around each other. If Salvatore were with me at an event where Dad would be, I intentionally kept them on opposite sides of the room.
For once, I remove myself and let them come face to face in my presence.
Dad removes a hand from his pants pocket and holds it out. “I was wrong about you, Manci—Salvatore. I was wrong about you,Salvatore.”
Salvatore accepts his handshake with his free hand that’s not carrying Dominic. “It’s good to hear that you know you were. Our kids would like to know their grandfather.”
I beam and rock from the balls to the heels of my feet, barely able to contain my excitement. Salvatore knows this as he shoots a knowing glance in my direction, a spark in his gaze.
My father might not be his favorite person, but he’s doing this for me—he’s accepting the truce because he knows it’s what makes me happy.
He and Dad share a firm handshake before we move onto fussing over Dominic. Dad officially introduces himself as his grandpa. Drowsy from his impromptu nap in Salvatore’s arms, our little boy blinks at him in confusion.
“He’ll come around,” I say. “The second you bribe him with a treat or a toy.”
“That I can do,” Dad laughs.
Serena whines from her bassinet, now awake too. The newborn lays swaddled in her blanket, her eyes squinted and mouth open for a yawn. The resemblance to her older brother is so uncanny it draws another laugh out of the three of us.
I pick her up into my arms with my heart full. I’m surrounded by family—both my birth family and the family Salvatore and I have created together. It hasn’t been easy to reach the chapter of our lives that we have, but we’ve found a way.
25
salvatore
3 months later…
“Mama and Papa’sfirst night adulting in months,” Sasha says with a big grin on her face. “How does it feel?”
Delphine and I share looks. Our expressions are obscure enough, our dinner guests aren’t sure how to read us.
“It feels… pretty good,” Delphine answers.
Stitches’s brows jump high on his forehead. “Just pretty good? Mrs. Phi, that’s the first alcoholic beverage you’ve had in a year. That’s gotta be an ‘amazing’at least.”
“She misses the babies,” Sasha predicts. Her grin turns teasing. “You wouldn’t understand, Francis. You’re not a parent.”
“Yet.” Stitches looks over to me, the opposite of the subtlety me and Phi have.
Then again, Stitches doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body. Never has, likely never will.
While Delphine and I have been busy with our lives as parents of the two cutest kids on the planet, things between Stitches and Sasha have been growing serious. They’ve given their relationship a title and Stitches regularly takes her and her son on fun day dates around the city.
More than once Stitches has asked me about my experience living with Delphine when she first moved in.
