"I’ll kill that brat of a brother of yours for not telling me that you were coming," she curses, shaking her head and double chin. "I'll poison his food," she adds vengefully.
I laugh, "You never would. You love him too much."
"True," she admits. "Now go, you didn't come to chat with an old woman like me, go see your brother." She picks up the towel she dropped and swats it at me. I laugh.
"Had I known you were here, I would have come earlier," I say.
She shakes her head, "You had your own worries, now let Zia Rosa make you some Torta della Nonna, eh? You still like it?"
My mouth waters instantly. I haven't had Torta della Nonna since Sicily. "I would love that."
"Good. Now, go, that way," she points down the hall.
Laughing, I make my way to where she pointed, and a sudden bout of shyness overcomes me at the unfamiliar surroundings. This place is nothing like the one Marcello had in Sicily. This looks like a palace fit for a king. I linger by the open bedroom door, tapping my knuckles gently against the frame, trying to calm the nerves swarming in my chest.
"Hey there," I manage, offering Violet, who is lying on the bed, a tentative smile.
Her face lights up. "Sophia," she waves me over with surprising warmth. "What a surprise."
I step in slowly, and my eyes land on the large ring on her hand, the one Marcello must’ve given her. My voice feels too soft for this room. "Marcello mentioned he proposed to you."
"He did," she beams, lifting her hand to show me the ring.
I smile. "Good. I'm glad he finally found someone. You were really nice to me at the hospital."
The words leave my mouth before I realize how much I mean them. It had been one of the only soft moments in a long stretch of brutal days. And yet, it’s all still there in my eyes, I know it is—the shadows, the ghosts.
Violet instinctively reaches for my hand. It startles me at first, but it’s gentle. Steady.
"We don't really know each other," she says, "but I likethe idea of having another sister. I hope we can be that. And I want you to know that I'm here for you."
Her words melt something inside me. The kindness. The calm. I hadn’t expected it. "Me too," I say, feeling my lips curve, maybe genuinely this time. "I wasn't in a good place when I was visiting Marcello at the hospital."
"But you are now?" she asks softly.
"I'm a lot better now." I find myself nodding. And it’s true. Raffael, Esther, the therapy, the comfort, Lexy, and even the shelter have all been helping me to find myself, to get back, not to the woman I was, but to the woman I was supposed to be. One day at a time.
She leans forward and hugs me, catching me off guard.
"I don’t want to hurt you," I murmur, stiff at first.
"You won’t," she replies without hesitation, and I let myself fall into it.
It's funny how comforting a stranger’s arms can be. But she’s not really a stranger. Not anymore.
"So, want to be one of my bridesmaids?" she asks when we pull apart.
"Just tell me when." I grin. "I know the place for a wedding dress, too."
"Deal." Her smile matches mine.
"Hey, sis," a voice says, too casual.
My head whips toward it.
Marcello.
Butt naked.
