She didn’t wait for anyone’s agreement, looping one arm around Rory’s, the other around Allie’s, and tugging them away, but not before she turned to mouth over her shoulder,You’re welcome.
I might have given my little brother a lot of shit for falling in love, but I could admit his wife was quickly earning my respect.
Left alone, Matteo, Enzo, and I silently surveyed the room, searching for anything—or anyone—that might seem out of place.
Pulling in a deep breath, I released it slowly. “What if he doesn’t show?”
Matteo hummed. “Then we go back to the drawing board. That’s all we can do.”
I cracked my neck, hoping to relieve the undercurrent of tension that made my muscles ache. “What the hell am I doing bringing a child into this fucked up world?”
“Ask myself the same question every damn day,” Enzo muttered.
My head whipped to the side. “Is Allie . . .?”
Jaw tight, his gaze was trained on the spot across the room where his wife sat with mine and Matteo’s. “No, Allie can’t—“ His voice broke, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “Gemma said she’d carry one for us. We’re supposed to start the process after the new year. If we’re still alive by then, that is.”
“What? That’s huge!” Matteo exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Enzo’s head tilted from side to side. “There are no guarantees that it’ll work, and I’m worried that if it doesn’t, she’s going to backslide. It was hard enough for her to crawl out of the hole of depression once; I don’t know if she’s got the strength to do it again.”
My brother gripped my cousin’s shoulder. “We’re here for you guys. No matter what.”
Swallowing thickly, Enzo uttered a gruff “thanks.”
While I felt like an outsider in my own family, I heeded Matteo’s warning from when Rory had been in the hospital—that whatever had happened to Enzo and his wife had been deeply traumatic and that talking about it was off the table—and remained silent. Truth be told, my plate was overflowing as it was, and I didn’t have the mental capacity to worry about the logistics of anyone else’s family planning.
My brother and cousin continued to talk about all things babies, but it became background noise to me. While fatherhood was on the near horizon, I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept, regardless of Rory’s protruding stomach, the visible proof that this was really happening.
If I was honest with myself, I was so damn terrified that Dario would win that I felt it was better to keep myself detached from the situation in case my son was never granted a first breath. Our enemies had come for his life once before; there were no guarantees they wouldn’t try again.
“Gio?” Matteo’s voice brought me back to the present.
I shook my head in an effort to clear it. “What was that?”
Surveying me critically, whatever my brother saw in my eyes had his own gaze softening. “I asked if you were ready for the toast? We can’t starve our guests by putting off dinner forever in the hopes that Dario decides to crash.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed. “Let’s get on with the evening.”
“I’ll collect the girls,” Enzo offered, striding away.
Closing my eyes, I blew out a breath, doubting myself and this plan with every minute that passed without Dario making an appearance.
Something grazed my arm, and I sucked in a sharp breath, my back going ramrod straight. Finely honed reflexes from years of defensive training had my hand flying out to clamp down on the appendage of whomever dared to touch me without permission.
When a soft whimper sounded in response, my eyes snapped open to find Rory staring up at me, concern written across her delicate features.
Brows furrowed, she asked, “Are you okay?”
Releasing my hold on her, I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Yeah. Just really want to end this tonight.”
In an uncharacteristic show of affection, she tangled her fingers with mine. “We all want that.”
“Champagnes all around!” Enzo broke into our little bubble, handing out flutes one by one, pausing when he reached us and saying to Rory, “I’m sure you could use something stronger, but I’m afraid all I can offer is sparkling cider.”
“Probably better to stay sharp in the face of danger,” my wife replied, curling her fingers around the crystal stemware.
“I’d put money on you being the one to save us all.” He tossed her a wink.
