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Pieces of Jackie in a bucket. Dad standing over me holding a severed foot.
Sal looks embarrassed. “Anthony thought he was old enough. Wanted him to become a man.”
Next to me, Ava is clearly sick on my behalf, and I hate it. I straighten up, modeling strength. “Thanks, Sal. One more thing. Do you know anything about my grandpa arranging meto marry Ava? Like how or when he decided that?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, kid. Old Nazzaro played things pretty close to the vest.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Ava
“You want help with your bags?” Dominic offers, dropping us off at the penthouse.
My husband pulls a suitcase out of the trunk. “I’ve got them. Thanks again for driving.”
His friend hugs him and kisses him on the cheek. “Hey, things are coming together now. You’re the boss, and nobody wants to fuck with that. The Maroneys are out of the way. Ava is home. Life is good. If you two change your minds about wanting to get a drink later, just hit me up.”
“Appreciate it,” says Alessandro. “I think we’re just going to have a quiet one, but I’ll let you know.”
Dominic and I hug and kiss cheeks. “Welcome back,” he tells me.
I haven’t even been gone a full week, but walking back into the penthouse with my husband still feels emotional. It’s the same lavish interior, same target in the hallway with a knife stuck into the wall next to it, but the context around everything has changed.
I’m different. And my relationship with Alessandro is different. I don’t feel trapped here, or like I’m a visitor.
For the first time, I truly feel like I’m coming home.
“It was lonely, being here without you,” says Alessandro, putting his arms around me from behind as I survey the living room. “It felt wrong.”
“Didn’t you live alone here for years before you met me?”
“Yeah. Emphasis onbefore I met you.I was a different person then. Now I barely recognize that guy.”
“What changed?” I know I’m fishing for compliments, but fuck it.
He squeezes me. “I found someone who makes my life so much better, I just want to be around her all the time.”
We stay there in silence for a moment. I’m still thinking about what Sal told us. I can’t get it out of my head.
“Alessandro, I’m really sorry. About what you went through.”
He clears his throat. “What do you mean?”
“Your 10th birthday. What your dad… That’s terrible that you had to go through that.”
“It toughened me up,” he deflects gruffly.
“I’m sure it did. But you were 10. It wasn’t right.”
Silence. And then… “Thanks,” says my husband, holding me tightly. “I love you, Ava.”
I turn around to kiss him. “I love you too, Alessandro. So much.”
Ourembrace is long, slow, intimate. When it breaks, he’s smiling. “I promise I won’t be committing any murders on our children’s birthdays.”
Outside the vague concept of our children inheriting the city, we haven’t really discussed this topic. And for the first time, the thought of having children with him brings a warmth to me. “Do you want kids?”
“For a long time, I didn’t. All I could picture was the way my father raised me, and it made me sick. But when I look at you… When I think of the life I want to build with you… Of course I want them. Of course I want to have a family with you. Do you…” He hesitates, looking more vulnerable than I’m used to seeing him. “How do you feel?”
