I was pregnant.
Alone.
With a father in prison and a boyfriend an ocean away who I believed had put him there.
I was young and naïve.
I made decisions I felt I needed to keep us all safe.
Now, facing him, I wonder if my fear has cost us all too much.
We stand staring at each other for long moments.
In my mind, I’m telling him all the things he deserves to know, but outwardly, I stay silent.
The hurt and anger in his features lessen, and I wonder what he’s seeing in my expression that is causing that.
Can he read my mind?
Finally, he picks up an ornament and hangs it on the tree. I haven’t put the lights on yet, but I don’t tell him that.
Instead, I hang an ornament as well.
We work in silence, hanging ornaments on opposite sides of the massive tree.
The tree is enormous, at least twelve feet tall, but somehow not big enough to keep us apart.
Our hands occasionally reach for the same branch, causing one of us to quickly retreat.
"Remember that time in the mountains, right after Christmas?" Luca asks suddenly. "When we snuck out at midnight to go skating?"
The memory is bittersweet.
Moonlight on ice.
His hands steady on my waist.
The way he'd kissed me, cold lips warming against mine.
"You fell through the thin spot," I say. "I thought you were going to drown."
His laugh is soft. "You pulled me out, then wrapped me in every blanket in the cabin."
"You had hypothermia."
"Worth it." His eyes find mine through the branches. "Best winter I ever had."
I turn away, struggling to manage the sweetness of the memory with the guilt and regret.
When I finally glance at him to see what he’s doing, he’s holding a silver frame that sits on Dom's mantel.
My heart stops.
It's a photo from last Christmas of me with the triplets in matching pajamas, sitting by Dom's fireplace.
Rocco's smile, so much like his father's. Elio's dark eyes, identical to the ones studying the picture now.
My hands turn clammy.
