“He loves me.”The wonder of it steals my breath away.“And I love him.It might seem fast, our marriage did start as a strategy to escape Cesare’s trap, but somewhere along the way?—”
“It became real.”Isabella’s expression softens.“I could see it, you know.It was clear in the way you two looked at each other.That wasn’t a strategy.That was something deeper.”
“I spent so long building walls.”I stare at my water glass, at the bubbles rising to the surface.“After Marco betrayed me, after I learned that trust leads to deception, I thought I’d never let anyone in again.I thought the walls would protect me.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand that walls don’t protect you.They just make sure you’re alone when the darkness comes.”I meet her eyes.“Shelby doesn’t tear down my walls.He just climbs over them.Again and again, no matter how high I build them.”
Isabella laughs softly.“That sounds exhausting.For both of you.”
“It is.It’s also worth it.He’s worth it.This life we’re building together, even with all the complications and the family drama and the blood on our hands.It's all worth it.”
We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes.The Tiramisu is mouthwatering, rich, and buttery, exactly as I remember from childhood.Strange, how food can carry so many memories.This dessert reminds me of Sunday dinners at the estate, Mother alive and laughing, Joe teasing me about my latest crush.
Before everything went so fucking wrong.
“I need to ask you something.”Isabella sets down her fork.“And I need you to be honest with me.”
“Always.”
“Do you regret it?Any of it?Marrying Shelby, investigating the ring, choosing the Boyles over Dad?”
I consider the question carefully.It deserves a real answer, not a reflexive one.
“I regret that our father made choices that forced me to make choices,” I say finally.“I regret that he turned out to be capable of such cruelty.I especially regret the pain this is causing Joe, and you, and everyone who loved the version of Giovanni DiLorenzo that existed in our memories.”
“But the choices themselves?”
“No.”The word is firm.Certain.“I don’t regret becoming the person who could look at evil and decide to fight it, even when that evil wore my father’s face.”
Isabella nods slowly, processing.Then she reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.
“Then I support you, whatever happens.And, after the trial, when this is all over, when we’re picking up the pieces of what’s left of our family, I’ll be there.We’ll rebuild together.”
The tears that have been threatening all morning finally spill over.I blink them away, but Isabella sees.She always sees.
“Thank you,” I whisper.“You have no idea how much your support means to me.”
“We’re DiLorenzo women.”Her smile is fierce and proud.“We survive.We adapt.And we protect each other, even when we can’t protect ourselves.”
“Absolutely.”I lean closer.“Don’t think I forgot your promise, little sister.Now, spill it.You and Nikolai?”
“Oh, boy!”Isabella’s cheeks light up with a raging flush.“Where do I start?”
I wink.“The beginning is usually a good place to start.”
Shelby is waiting when I get back to the safe house.
He’s standing by the window, silhouetted against the gray December sky, and something about his posture tells me he’s been there for a while.Watching.Waiting.Worrying.
“Hey.”I cross the room and slip my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek against his back.“Miss me?”
He turns in my embrace, gathering me close.His lips brush my forehead, my temple, the corner of my mouth.
“Always.”The word is rough with emotion.“How was lunch with Isabella?”
“Hard.Necessary.”I pull back enough to look at him.“She supports me.Whatever happens tomorrow, she’s on my side.”
