All the kids ran over Romeo. He enjoyed playing the street to their feet, but all of the other men made the younger males cautious. Most of all their grandfather. All but Mia, who climbed him like a tree—and he’d laugh and laugh and laugh. The younger males were not so secure, for good reason. He’d whip them in a heartbeat. For one reason or another, though, they associated us with him.
“Something to eat,” I said, sticking a finger under Angelo’s chin. He squished his neck, laughing just like my little brother.
“Do dat to me,Papà!” Mia said, lifting her chin.
I did the same to her, and she squished my finger, growling at me. Angelo, feeling brave, started growling at me, too, but both kids stopped abruptly when Scarlett came to the door and mentioned cake.
“That sounds wonderful!” Eunice said, more relieved than anything. “Who wants cake?”
Cake was the magic fucking word. A bunch of excited noises happened after that, and then both kids stuck their hands into Eunice’s, walking next to her like she was the Pied Piper of Hamelin.
Mia bobbed up and down in her pretty shoes, almost dancing to the melodic thought of sweets.
“You know, I sometimes wonder if the Pied Piper offered sweets, not music, to the children who followed him,” Scarlett said, picking up on my thought.
“It’s fucking eerie how you do that,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.
“We’re gifted.” She shrugged. “You do the same to me.”
“It’s not eerie when I do it.” I followed her back in the room, watching as she picked up where she had left off, unpacking our clothes.
“That’s becauseyou’rethe one doing it. It doesn’t feel eerie to me either.”
“By the way,” I said, taking the socks from her before she could stuff them somewhere. “You said did.”
She gave me an impatient look. “What?”
“You said did. Ididlove you.”
“Well—” She hesitated. “Youdid. Love me, I mean.”
“I do,” I said, taking her small waist in my hands. “I love you more now than ever. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”
“Do I still give you butterflies?” She grinned up at me.
“Worse,” I said, leaning down to kiss her. Cake sounded pretty fantastic to me too.
Using my foot, I went to shut the door to our room, but someone blocked the passage.
Luca stood in the doorway, staring at us. Standing straighter, I met his eye.
“I trust that you will not make your wife unfashionably late,” he said, the lines around his eyes relaxing when his gaze moved to Scarlett.
The words were on the tip of my tongue, but Scarlett answered before me. “Grazie mille, il babbo.” She embraced him, kissing both cheeks, and then melting into his arms. “This place is—magical.” She smiled up at him.
My heart clenched at the sight. It was a true smile, one that caused me to melt. He did the same, not being impervious to her charm either. It was rare that true grace knocked on a man’s door.
So taken by her gratitude, he didn’t even give her a full response, more of a waved off, “ah, it is nothing.”
Not wanting to get ensnared in her eyes, his broke first, moving toward the bed. He studied Matteo for a second or two before he cleared his throat.
He nodded to his grandson. “He sleeps like his father,” he said in Italian. “I remember the day my own son was born. The weather was steaming hot, and his mother was so swollen she could barely walk. So beautiful, she was.” He waved a hand. “The doctor and nurses were taken with my son. He did not resemble a newborn, they had said, but a three-month-old!”
His eyes stared into the distance, remembering.
I’d never seen that look in his eyes before. Fiercely protective of his vulnerable spots, it was the first time I’d ever seen him lower his guard. Despite the fact that I was in the room, I knew he had done it because of my wife. She had the power to elicit feelings from people they usually reserved.
He sighed. “Your son is a mirror image of his father. The Fausti blood is strong in that one, as with all of my grandsons. My granddaughter as well.” He smiled. “A beautiful male our powerful Matteo is.”
