Elena poured me coffee without asking, sliding the mug across the counter. "Meredith texted. They want us to come to the estate around noon, said we could help set up the baby's room. She'll text once Sofia is there or on the way."
"Sounds better than sitting here going crazy," I said, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. But the anxiety gnawed at me anyway, sharp and relentless. I pulled out my phone again and typed a quick message to Eric.
Just checking in. Hope you're okay.
I stared at the screen for a moment, then added a follow-up message.
Be safe.
Because apparently I'd turned into someone who sent worried girlfriend texts. When had that happened?
"That's what I thought," Elena said, then glanced at my phone. "Messaging Eric?"
"Yeah. I know he's probably busy dodging bullets or whatever counts as a normal Tuesday in his world, but—" I shrugged, feeling exposed. "Hey, can you ask Jackson if he's heard anything from Eric's team?"
Elena was already typing. Her phone buzzed almost immediately. "He says they're working different areas of the city. He'll update me once he hears anything."
The knot in my stomach tightened. Different areas meant Eric could be anywhere, facing anything. The thought of him out there, maybe hurt or worse, made my chest feel hollow and raw. When had I started caring this much? When had the possibility of losing him become something that terrified me more than my own potential death?
Maybe it was the danger, the way crisis stripped away all the careful walls I'd built, but I found myself confronting a truth I'd been avoiding: I wanted to try. Really try. If we all got through this—when we got through this—I wanted to see what could happen between us without fear holding me back. Even if it meant risking the kind of heartbreak I'd spent years protecting myself from.
The hours crawled by like wounded animals. We showered, changed, tried to eat breakfast though neither of us had much appetite. My phone remained stubbornly silent, and each passing minute felt like a small betrayal. By the time Meredith's text came saying they were ready for us, I was ready to climb the walls or start a small war of my own.
The Donati estate felt simultaneously like a fortress and a sanctuary. Security personnel were more visible than usual, but inside the main house, warmth and life persisted despite the violence happening elsewhere in the city.
Sofia met us at the door with Marcello in her arms. The baby cooed happily, oblivious to the tension radiating from every adult in the room.
"Hey," she said, pulling me into a one-armed hug. "How are you holding up?"
"I've been better," I admitted. "But I'm alive, so that's something. Though at this point I'm starting to think I might be harder to kill than a cockroach, which is either really encouraging or deeply disturbing."
Meredith appeared from deeper in the house. "Come on, let's go upstairs. I've been putting off organizing the nursery for weeks, and today seems like the perfect time for a distraction project."
We followed her up the grand staircase to a sunny room that had been partially converted into a baby's room. Boxes offurniture sat waiting to be assembled, and paint samples were taped to one wall like evidence in a very boring crime scene.
"Leo keeps saying he'll hire people to do it," Meredith said, "but I want it to feel personal, you know? Like we actually put thought into it."
"What's the holdup then?" Elena asked.
"Me being indecisive about colors," Meredith admitted with a rueful smile as she touched her small baby bump. "And Leo being busy running an empire. The usual."
Sofia settled into a rocking chair with Marcello, who immediately grabbed for her necklace with the single-minded determination of someone planning a jewelry heist. "We can at least get the furniture assembled today. That's something."
I picked up an instruction manual for what appeared to be a crib. "This looks complicated. And written by someone who clearly hates humanity."
"Everything about babies is complicated," Sofia said, bouncing Marcello gently. "But worth it."
We worked in comfortable silence for a while, the mundane task of reading instructions and sorting pieces oddly soothing. I found myself relaxing slightly, the tight knot of anxiety in my chest loosening just a fraction. Nothing like Swedish furniture assembly to make you forget about ongoing mafia wars.
"So," I finally said, because I couldn't not ask. "What's happening out there? With the Malatestas?"
Meredith paused in sorting through crib screws. "There's an all-out war going on. Most of the Malatestas fled overnight. The few who remained are having shootouts in their old territories."
"Are you scared?" I asked.
All three of them exchanged looks, the kind of weighted glance that spoke volumes.
"Of course we're scared," Sofia said finally, adjusting Marcello in her arms. "Anyone who says they're not is either lying or stupid."
