She looked surprised and then pleased. “That sounds lovely,” she said. “I’d like that very much.”
* * *
The weeks rollby very quickly. On Christmas Eve I arrive back at the mansion with bags upon bags of last-minute presents to wrap for all of my family and friends. But as soon as I walk in the front door, Luca appears with a sparkle in his eyes, and immediately turns me back around.
“I need to put a blindfold on you,” he says.
“Sexy,” I say, “but kinda dangerous to make me walk up stairs to the bedroom with a blindfold on, don’t you think?”
“Not everything is about sex, angel,” Luca snort-mutters, tying a strip of material over my eyes before I can say anything else. But the way he’s keeping his voice down suggests we have company. “And we’re not going upstairs. Your Christmas present has arrived early, and I want to surprise you.”
I think about cracking another dirty joke but I’m too intrigued. “What is it?” I ask, and let Luca turn me around and walk me slowly down the hallway in front of him, his hands on my shoulders.
Almost at the kitchen when I hear a simultaneously unfamiliar-yet-familiar noise. “Is that…is that akid?”
I can definitely hear childish babble of some kind, and then something grabs me tight around the knees. I rip off the blindfold and stare down into the face of a toddler, looking delighted with herself, sandy curls tumbling around a cheerful, chubby face, her olive-green eyes staring back into mine.
I gaze down at her for a moment longer, although I know at once who she is. There are other people gathered here in the kitchen, too, watching my reaction, but I just can’t look away from this tiny girl.
This tiny piece of Tino Morelli.
I lean down, pick her up in my arms and spin her around, making her laugh, and then hug her close. “Hello, Marcy,” I say into her ear. “Hello, little sister. It’s so good to finally meet you.”
Chapter Seventy-Two
FINCH
“You’ve met her before,” says another familiar and much-missed voice, and I put Marcy down so I can give Celia D’Amato the strength of hug she deserves.
“I missed you so much, outlaw sister,” I say past the lump in my throat. “And maybe I did meet Marcy before, but newborns don’t count. She was just a squishy little ball of tears and poop back then. She’s a real person now.”
That’s aterriblething to say,” Cee laughs. “I missed you, too, outlaw brother.”
“Oh, my God, Cee,” I say, looking her over from head to toe. “You gotchicover there in Italy. Are you seriously wearing Versace? Hotdamn, you little minx.” I put her back at arm’s length and she strikes a pose.
“You like?”
Our reunion is interrupted by Brother Frank, who throws his arms around the both of us, squeezing us together and bellowing “Principessa!” in my ear. When he lets me go I see that Hudson and Gio are here, too, Hudson grinning ear-to-ear, and I’m so pleased. Marcella Constance Aïda might be my toddler half-sister, but she’s also the daughter of Hudson’stwinsister.
We’re a complicated family. But we’re definitely family.
Hudson looks teary but happy, delighted to entertain Marcy while I catch up with Celia and Frank, and when I hug him, too, it’s with special meaning.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him.
“Thanks, Mr. D,” he whispers.
“Tell you what,” I say, “how about you just call me Finch from now on? Wearefamily, after all.”
He blinks back more tears as he nods. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re right, Finch. We’re family.”
Later, after all of the joy and hysteria has died into a bubbling warmth, and Marcy is playing with the decorations on the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, I finally find out exactly what Frank and Cee are doing here.
“Well, Georgie rules this town now,” Frank brags. “Me and Cee and Marcy, we can come back any time we like these days. So get used to visits,Principessa.”
“Visits? You’re not coming back full time?” I ask, trying not to let disappointment stain the merriment of the evening. I’m sitting with Luca on the sofa, his arm across the back of it, and he squeezes my upper arm a little as I speak, comforting me.
Cee and Frank exchange a glance. “Well, the thing is,” Cee says, “we decided we really prefer the European lifestyle. And there are so many goodschoolsover there that Marcy can go to—plus, it seems a shame to uproot her again, especially when she doesn’t really understand English all that well.”
