Would she get an infection from being on this dirty fucking floor?We didn’t have any of the things I thought we needed.
Would she leave me now?
She reached out for the baby, our son, and cradled him close to her heart.
“He looks like you.” She smiled through tears, her face flushed despite the cold. “So much like you.”
“He better,” I said, running a hand through my hair. Not even aware that I’d spoken until she laughed quietly.
“Brando—”
“Scarlett,” I said, hardly able to say her name. “Tell me.”
Her hand rested on my arm. “What time is it?”
“Time.” Was that even a real word? Must’ve been. I looked around, finally finding a clock. I had seen it a million times before but somehow couldn’t remember where it was. “One in the morning.”
“Oh,” she sighed, her grip growing firmer. “The day after we lost Elliott. December the 13th.”
“Am I going to lose my wife?” I said. “My son?”
“No.” She pulled me closer. “No. Brando. Look at me. Look at us.”
Summoning the strength, I did.
“We’re out of the woods.” She sniffed. “We’re out of the woods.”
“Scarlett, don’t—”
“I would never,” she said, the conviction in her voice strong. “Trust me.”
Leaning closer to kiss her head, I let my lips rest there. “We’re out of the woods,” I repeated like a prayer.
All the tension seemed to rush out of me, like clean water purging all the blood that had marked our lives since that night in the snow.
It was marked with the blood shed for new life now.
“Mia.” I cleared my throat. Louder. “Matteo.”
They crept out of the office, not sure what to expect. Perhaps Mia did, but the fear overruled her feelings from time to time. This seemed to be one of those times.
Taking the solid bundle from Scarlett’s arms, I cradled my new son to my chest, his eyes meeting mine. He seemed shocked by the sudden turn of events too.
“Come meet your new brother,” I said. “Maestro Elliott Leone Fausti.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Blue and red lights spun over our faces, illuminating the pulse of life, just as Scarlett’s parents walked in to greet it.
36
Scarlett
9 months later
“Da do,” Maestro mimicked Brando.
Brando smiled. Maestro giggled. At nine months old, he liked to mimiceveryone. And laugh—he loved to laugh.
“Daddy,” Brando repeated for the tenth time.
