"There was only ever you," I say simply.
Her expression flickers with something that looks a little like guilt or maybe regret, but she looks away.
"Besides," I continue, trying to keep things light, "I was busy building our family business. Didn't have time for a wife."
She doesn't respond, and I wonder if she's thinking of her children, of the life she's built without me.
The insecurity I've kept at bay all night creeps in.
Who fathered those kids?
Does she still love him?
Why isn't he here?
I run my fingers through Elena's hair, savoring the silky texture against my skin.
The peaceful moment feels like a dream I might wake from at any second.
Especially if I ask the wrong questions. But I can’t help it.
"Elena," I start, keeping my voice casual despite the tightness in my chest. "The triplets' father… is he still in the picture?"
Her body goes rigid beside me.
The relaxed woman from moments ago vanishes, replaced by the guarded Elena I've encountered since my return.
She shifts away slightly, pulling the sheet higher over her chest. "No. He's not."
"Do they see him? Does he support them?" The questions tumble out even as I chastise myself for fucking this moment up.
"It's complicated."
"Did you love him?"What the fuck, Luca?I don’t want to know the answer to that.
She doesn't answer immediately. When she does, her voice is quiet. "Yes."
Something cold and sharp twists in my gut. I knew she’d been with someone.
The children are living proof of that. I’d hoped it was a hookup and they’d all gone their separate ways. Hearing her admit to loving another man cuts deep.
All those years I spent in Italy, holding on to the memory of us while she was here, building a life, falling in love, creating a family with someone else.
"And now?" I ask, hating the vulnerability in my voice.
Elena turns to look at me. "Now I'm raising my children and trying to keep them safe."
Suddenly, I feel like an intruder in this bed, in this life she's created without me.
The confidence I felt earlier that I could reclaim what we lost wavers.
Am I chasing a relationship that died years ago while I clung to the hope that we’d someday be together again?
I shift closer to Elena, unable to stop myself from asking the question. "Why would he leave you? With three children, no less?"
The silence stretches between us. Something about her hesitation makes my heart stutter.
"He… didn't exactly leave," she finally says, each word measured carefully. "He was gone before I knew I was pregnant."
