"I'll handle the arrangements," Alessio says, already pulling out his phone.
As he turns to leave, I add, "AndAlessio—tell Daniel to double security on the house. Just in case this is something else entirely."
One month later
I rest my hand on my still-flat stomach as I lounge on the chaise in what will soon become the nursery. The room is spacious with large windows that flood it with natural light—perfect for a baby's room. One month has passed since Byron's death, and while nightmares still occasionally plague me, each day feels lighter than the last.
"I think we should go with a neutral palette," I say, watching Lucrezia inspect the crown molding. "Cream walls with accents we can change later."
Scarlett, sprawled on the carpet with paint swatches spread around her like fallen autumn leaves, shakes her head. "Boring. Babies need stimulation. What about a mural on this wall?" She points to the largest uninterrupted section. "Something whimsical but not too cutesy."
"Not everything needs to scream for attention likeyour hair does," I tease, and Scarlett flips me off with a grin, her vibrant red locks cascading over her shoulders.
Lucrezia traces her fingers along the windowsill, her movements more deliberate than they used to be. In the month since her attack, she's slowly reclaiming herself, piece by piece. Today is a good day—she's been laughing, offering opinions, present in a way she sometimes isn't.
"What about an Italian countryside theme?" Lucrezia suggests. "Rolling hills, cypress trees, maybe a little farmhouse in the distance."
"I love that idea," I say sincerely. "Something connecting the baby to their heritage."
Scarlett shuffles through her paint samples. "We could do a soft sage green for the hills, maybe a buttery yellow for the sun."
"And a soft blue ceiling like the sky," Lucrezia adds, more animated now. "With clouds!"
"Look at you, getting all artistic again," I say gently.
Lucrezia's smile falters slightly, but she recovers. "I've been sketching a little. Nothing serious yet, but..." She shrugs, leaving the thought unfinished.
"Well, I think your idea is perfect," I tell her. "And you should paint it. No one could do it better."
"Absolutely," Scarlett chimes in. "The famous Lucrezia Feretti original nursery mural? That baby's going to have serious bragging rights."
Lucrezia laughs softly. "Let me think about it. I'm not sure I'm ready for a project that big."
"No pressure," I assure her, then gesture to the corner. "What about the crib over there? Away from the windows but still getting natural light?"
"Perfect," Scarlett agrees. "And maybe a comfy rocking chair by the bookshelf for late-night feedings?"
"God, you two are turning into proper mamas before my eyes," Lucrezia says with warmth in her voice. "It suits you, Zoe."
I feel a flush of pleasure at her words. "It feels right, somehow. Even with everything that happened to bring us here."
A knock on the door interrupts our planning session, and Ginerva appears with a tray of iced tea and cookies. "Thought you ladies might need refreshments," she says, setting it down on the small table near the window.
"You're an angel, Ginerva," I say gratefully, reaching for a glass.
After she leaves, Scarlett grabs a chocolate chip cookie and asks, "So, Lucrezia, what about you? Any looks preferences for your future niece or nephew?"
Lucrezia takes a sip of her tea before answering. "I just want them to be happy and safe." She traces the rim of her glass with her finger. "And loved. Always loved."
Something in her tone makes me look at her more closely. There's a wistfulness there I haven't noticed before.
"Speaking of future little ones," Scarlett says, helping herself to another cookie, "any potential romance on your horizon, Lucrezia? Once you're ready, of course."
Lucrezia's expression shutters slightly. She sets her glass down with deliberate care.
"I've never actually been in love," she admits quietly. "Or had sex with anyone."
Scarlett nearly chokes on her cookie, but recovers quickly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."
