Dom sighs, and I bite my cheek against my own smile as I lean against Luc’s hip. He flips an omelet over. “Hungry?”
Not particularly. But I nod, pouring Gio and I a coffee as he presses a kiss to my cheek.
Breakfast is subdued. Alessia refuses to abandon her new game, so we get to watch Stefan and Dom work together to feed her scrambled eggs, yogurt and fruit in between passing her like a parcel as she laughs.
I scrunch up my nose at the yogurt.Ugh.I’m tempted to wash it out, but Alessialovesit. Instead, I pick at the omelet. “What time will your mother arrive?”
Luc sits back, fresh coffee in his hand. “Anytime. The pilot is on standby whenever we’re ready.”
My heart squeezes. “I’ll go and pack, then.”
Alessia looks up as I stand. “Ma?”
My heart. My fuckingheart.
I hold out my arms. I expect her to turn away, back to her game, but she immediately reaches out her arms, and my stomach swoops as I gather her up. She pats my cheek as I turn to leave, but my eyes catch on Dante.
He watches us both, not masking the strain on his face.
It’s his last day with her too.
I tilt my head in silent invitation, and he’s behind me in a second.
I set her down on the bed, and Dante settles down beside her. As I pack some of the things I’ve accumulated since I arrived, I listen to her steady stream of conversation, the rise and fall of her unintelligible words as Dante murmurs back to her. I drink every sound she makes in, holding it inside me and storing it.
I’m coming back for you.
We swap rooms, Dante packing his own bag as she crawls into my lap and starts to explore my hair. And my resolve hardens as I watch her.
I will not fail her again.
When Luc’s voice echoes, Dante zips up the holdall. “Have you met hismadrebefore?”
“No.” I consider what I know. “He told me once that she was… loud. Protective.”
And hopefully someone who won’t mind a small houseguest for a while.
We hear her before we see her. A loud, irritated burst of Italian meets us as we head downstairs, Dante and I exchanging looks before they come into view.
Luc’s mother has her son’s hazel eyes. They narrow on him, her finger up and pointing as we come to a stop. She barely reaches his shoulders, dark haired and elegant, and he holds up his hands as she throws up her own. But he’s smiling, a mixture of sadness and love in his face. “Mama.”
She points at him again. “Do notmamame, LucianoAurelio Morelli. I can still chase you around with my spoon. You should have come home sooner.”
He agrees with a murmur, his arms wrapping around her. I catch her smile where he can’t see before she buries it under a frown. But there are deep circles under her eyes, and I’m reminded that she recently lost her husband.
Loss, everywhere we look.
She wipes down her hands before turning to us, shooting Luc an expectant look.
He clears his throat.
“Mama,” he waves a hand. “This is Dante V’Arezzo. And… Caterina Corvo. This is mymadre, Lucia Morelli.”
She looks me up and down. “Your Caterina?”
I suddenly wonder with a flush exactly what Luc has told his mother about me. “Buongiorno, signora. Thank you for having us in your home.”
Luc smirks at Dante. “Sì.MyCat.”
