Before I got too comfortable, I placed Mia in the co-sleeper bed that was in our bed. The pediatrician said it was safer.
“Brando? Where’s my baby?” The lightest noise from Mia woke her up. Her instincts were sharp, and she was being exactly what I knew she’d be. A wonderful mother.
“Right here. She’s asleep.”
“All right.” She sighed. “Baciami.”
I leaned over and kissed her, slow and long, stroking her hair, putting her to sleep again, my lips and touch the last contact she felt.
The house was quiet. Ruby turned around three times in a circle and then lay down on her bed, falling asleep not long after.
All safe.
Still, it was safer to keep watch.
After Mia woke up to eat again, I took her from Scarlett after she had her fill, changing her diaper like Scarlett had taught me, and then opened the window in her nursery, showing her the stars as I danced with her to a lullaby. Her head rested against the spot where my heart used to be.
My body shielded both of our hearts—maritoandmoglie, husband and wife—always.
Chapter Forty-One
Brando
Outside the weather was bitter cold, but the inside of the church was warm, smelling strongly of incense, candles, and the upcoming Christmas holiday. A mixture of orange and cinnamon, maybe even some clove, seemed the strongest.
Scarlett stood next to me, her soft cream-colored dress catching the winter’s sun filtering in through the windows. Her auburn hair seemed to shimmer in response, the red sparking against the bursts of light.
Mia’s long gown and hat were a darker shade than her mother’s, closer to gold, and the color enhanced the soft chocolate color of her hair and illuminated her perfect skin.
The gown was a family heirloom. It was heavily detailed and extremely long; when Scarlett sat with Mia on her lap, the lace-trimmed hem touched the floor.
Both of my girls were devastatingly beautiful.
As the end of the rite was administered and mass had been concluded, Mia’s baptism over, she started to wail, ready to eat. Scarlett found a pew that was away from the crowd to feed her, and then she set her in the pram to sleep.
Before leaving, we shook everyone’s hand, thanking all of the guests for coming. The guests were a mixture of my family and hers—only a few friends. Some had come from Sicily, Slovenia, and some as far as America.
Blessings and praise poured over Mia. So many awed looks when they first laid eyes on her.An angelwas the main opinion.
Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief when one of my old Sicilian aunts—who had to be at least a hundred—nodded and said, “Your hips are big enough to have this beautiful child. She is the spitting image of her father. Good. You okay.” Then she shuffled ahead with the family.
Last time they had met, a wooden spoon was involved, and the splintering of it.
“At least this time she’s not trying to get you to marry someone else,” Scarlett said, smiling at me. “My hips did well.”
“Give it time. The day’s still young. Word on the street is that she brought along a woman named Liza, who has twice the hips.”
Scarlett pinched me and I laughed. We kept our arms around each other, and the next time she pinched me, it wasn’t for fun.
Lothario and his wife greeted us next. He offered congratulations while his wife touched Mia’s forehead. Scarlett stiffened next to me, but she didn’t say a word. Rocco, Dario, Romeo, Donato, and Guido came to stand around us.
We knew it was only a matter of time before it came to this. Lothario had received the message loud and clear. Ettore had returned. Luca was the wind that directed the messenger bird’s path.
Lothario gave Scarlett a look. She returned it.
“I see you have no gun today,” he whispered in Italian.
She smiled and my blood ran cold. Rarely was her smile frigid, calculating, but he seemed to pull the ice queen out of her. “Do not be fooled, uncle, though I doubt I’ll need it today,” she said in Italian, and then she pulled even closer to me, driving the point home.
