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“Smart,” T tells her.
“How’d you get back here?” I know she went to Rome with her father this morning.
“Lorenzo was in Rome with Kyla. Dad made him come back on the chopper with me.”
“Lorenzo and Kyla?” I narrow my eyes in confusion.
“Yep. Didn’t see that one coming. So, when he dies, what happens to his part of the inheritance, Nonno? Does it get divided up between all of us, or can you just give it to the one you love the most?” Tilly asks T, and he laughs.
“He’s not dying, Tilly.” Pushing to his feet, T walks over to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. Then he leans into my ear and whispers a phrase in Italian that I’ve come to know well. “I love you, Holly. Everything is going to be okay.”
They’re simple words but ones that he knows work on me. Because I have no reason to doubt my husband. I know some would call it blind faith. But T has never let me down in all our years of marriage. While the gesture may ease a little of the worry, it’s still there, in the back of my mind. My babies are out on those streets, and I’m not naïve enough to believe that whatever they’re doing is safe. No matter how much T says they’re fine, there is always an element of risk.
“Dante, why don’t you take your grandmother and find Orlando? Show her that version of his song you two came up with,” T says.
“Sure. Come on, Nonna, you’re going to love it,” Dante tells me.
I look back to T as he removes his arm from around my shoulders and kisses me on my forehead. “Tilly, come and tell me about how it was you who really saved your father and not the other way around,” he says to Tilly.
“Well, I would have if I were sitting in the other chair facing the traffic,” she says. “Except I probably would have saved everyone, Nonno.”
I watch as Tilly sits down next to her grandfather, indulging him in an exaggerated version of how she would have saved the day, before I follow Dante into the house. We find Orlando in one of the living rooms, his guitar in hand.
“Orlando, play Nonna that mix we made,” Dante tells him.
“Are you sure you want to hear it, Nonna?” Orlando asks.
“If it’s your song, sweetheart, I always want to hear it,” I say as I lower myself beside him on the sofa.
Before he hits play on his phone, his mother walks into the room. “Oh, are we doing a show and tell?” Katy asks excitedly.
“Nonna wants to hear the new version of the song.”
“Wait… When did you hear the old version?” Katy turns to me.
“Luca played it for me the other week,” I say.
Then it dawns on me that I haven’t felt strange at all today, no fogginess or that odd sensation like I’ve forgotten something. I do, however, still have that dread in the pit of my stomach that insists something is wrong. I just don’t know what. I’m putting it down to the boys not being here, and me not knowing what they’re up to.
“Oh, he didn’t mention it. Speaking of my husband, anyone know where he is?” Katy looks from me to the boys.
“He didn’t tell you he was going to Rome?” I ask her.
“Rome? What’s he doing in Rome?”
“Playing mafia,” Orlando answers her question before I can.
I laugh at his vague description. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you,” I say.
“He said he was going to meet Romeo, but he didn’t say where,” Katy clarifies. That makes sense. They’ve learned from their father how to provide information without giving away too much.
“Someone shot at Dad and Tilly in Rome. They’re trying to find out who did it,” Dante says. Both boys seem very unfazed by the events of today. Then again, it’s not like this is the first time this has happened in our family.
“Are Tilly and Romeo okay?” Katy looks to the boys again.
“They’re fine, but Tilly’s too scared to tell Mom what happened. Because Mom will lock her down,” Dante replies.
“Tell me what?” Livvy asks, walking into the room.
