"It's okay," Lucrezia says, offering a small smile. "Damiano and Enzo kept me so protected, I barely got to speak to boys, let alone date them. Remember that Nick story I told you about, Zoe?"
I nod.
"That was the closest I ever came to anything real," she continues. "And now..." Her voice trails off, and she looks down at her hands. "After what happened, I think it's going to be even harder. I can't imagine letting anyone touch me now."
My heart aches at the vulnerability in Lucrezia's eyes. The shadows of what happened to her still linger, but there's something else there too—a longing for a normal life that she never got to experience.
"You will find someone," I say softly, setting my glass down and moving to sit beside her on the window seat. "Someone who understands what you've been through and respects your boundaries. Someone who'll be patient and kind."
Lucrezia offers a small, disbelieving smile. "Maybe in another lifetime."
"No, in this one," I insist, taking her hand. "I'm absolutely certain you'll find a guy who's totally hot for you. Someone who'll make your heart race just by walking into a room."
She laughs then, a genuine sound that brightens her whole face. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because you're beautiful, talented, and have the biggest heart of anyone I know," I say, squeezing her hand. "And because I've seen how guys look at you, even when your brothers are hovering like angry guard dogs."
"It's true," Scarlett chimes in, gathering paint samples into neat piles. "At the hospital fundraiser last week? That doctor in cardiology couldn't take his eyes off you."
"Dr. Reynolds?" Lucrezia asks, a hint of color touching her cheeks. "He was just being polite."
"Polite doesn't involve staring at your lips every time you spoke," Scarlett says with a knowing grin.
"The right person will understand that healing isn't linear," I continue. "They'll know that some days are harder than others, and they'll love you through all of them."
Lucrezia leans her head against my shoulder. "When did you get so wise?"
"Probably around the time I realized I was carrying a tiny human and needed to figure my shit out," I say, making her laugh again.
"I just don't want to be seen as damaged goods," she whispers after a moment.
"You're not damaged, Lucrezia," I say firmly. "You're a survivor. And that makes you stronger than most people will ever be."
Lucrezia's eyes glisten with tears, though her smile remains brave. I squeeze her hand, wishing I could take away her pain, when the door swings open.
Damiano leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes sweep the room, taking in the paint swatches, our little tea party, and finally landing on his sister's face. I wonder how long he's been listening.
"You have plenty of time till you reach your 50s," he says, his tone light but his eyes full of care. "Then you can fall in love with some dumbshit man."
Laughter erupts from Scarlett first, followed by Lucrezia's surprised giggle. I can't help joining in, especially when Lucrezia reaches for a decorative pillow from the window seat.
"You're such an ass," she says, hurling the pillow at his face.
Damiano catches it easily, a rare playful smiletransforming his usually stern features. "I'm just being realistic. No man is good enough for my sister."
Scarlett's lips curve into a mischievous smile as she looks at Damiano. "Actually, we've decided on our color scheme already," she says, her voice perfectly serious. "We're painting everything black. Walls, ceiling, furniture—all of it. Maybe some skulls as accents."
I press my lips together, fighting back laughter as Damiano's expression shifts from playful to mildly horrified.
"Black?" he repeats, his brow furrowing. "For a nursery?"
"Absolutely," Scarlett continues, warming to her theme. "Studies show babies respond well to high contrast. And what's higher contrast than black everything?"
Lucrezia catches on immediately. "We're thinking of adding some silver spikes to the crib rails too. Very edgy."
"Very safe," I add with a completely straight face. "The baby will develop an excellent aesthetic sense right from birth."
Damiano's eyes narrow as he looks between the three of us. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"
