She studies me. “What are you trying to say right now?”
“That I love you,” I say simply. Her eyes widen. “I should’ve said it last night. I should’ve said it the day I realized it. I’m saying it now because it’s the only true thing that matters next to that room.” I nod toward the ICU.
“Whatever happens after, you don’t walk out of here thinking you were a convenience or a game. You weren’t. You aren’t.”
Her eyes shine; she blinks hard and looks away to the parking lot lights. “That doesn’t solve anything,” she whispers. “It just… makes the ground I’m standing on even shakier.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m not asking you to forgive me here. But I need you to know that I’m here for you, whatever you decide, that doesn’t change. I know you may not be thrilled with the idea of being part of this particular family, but you are family.”
Her eyes well with tears.
“That’s not—” She shakes her head. “Your family is… not what I imagined.”
“What? You were picturing Goodfellas?”
She lets out a watery laugh. “Maybe.”
“Hate to break it to you, schweetheart,” I say, emphasizing the accent. “But that’s just a movie.”
She almost smiles, wipes under one eye with the side of her finger. “I don’t know how to do this, Roberto. Any of it.”
“We take it one step at a time,” I answer. “Once Antonio wakes up, you and me in a room. You can ask me anything. If I can’t answer, I’ll say that—not dance around it. No more dodging.”
Footsteps pass at the end of the hall; a monitor chimes somewhere. She breathes out and, for a second, leans her shoulder against the glass beside mine. “Okay,” she says softly. “I can do that.”
Chapter Thirty Nine
Olivia
I let myself in and turn the deadbolt, then stand there with my keys in my hand like I’ve forgotten what to do with them.
The apartment smells like coffee from this morning and laundry detergent from some unfolded clothes in the basket. It should feel normal. It doesn’t.
I kick off my shoes and set my bag on the counter. The clock on the stove says it’s late enough that any rational person would be asleep. I’m not even close.
I fill a glass with water and don’t drink it. I just hold it and listen to the hum of the fridge and the sound of my own pulse in my ears.
Luca told everyone to go home. He said he’d call when Antonio woke up, and somehow the firmness in his voice made it easy to obey.
We filtered out in twos and threes quietly. Elena offered to drop Caterina off since she was closer to her, but Cat stopped to hug me hard at the curb and thank me, again, for comingto the hospital. I just told her to go home and get some sleep. We both knew neither of us would.
The drive back felt longer than it should have. City lights, the sound of my turn signal, a radio station I didn’t remember turning on, whispering late-night talk.
Twice, I checked my mirror and thought I saw the same dark SUV hang back a few car lengths, then catch up when I changed lanes.
The second time, I told myself to get a grip. I took my exit, and the SUV kept going. My shoulders dropped an inch. I told myself it was just my brain looking for monsters behind every bumper. I told myself I was just tired.
I put the water down and pace. Kitchen to couch, couch to window, window to hallway, back again. I tell myself to sit. I don’t.
He said he loved me.
The thought pinches tight in the center of my chest, and I have to press a palm there. It doesn’t take anything back. It doesn’t fix the lies. It doesn’t erase anything. But it’s real. I saw it in his face and heard it in his voice.
I don’t know what to do with that.
I picture everyone in the waiting room in the rows of vinyl and plastic seats, the TV looping through the weather and news, Bianca handing out water, Nico staring sightlessly at the wall.
Through all that, Roberto stood a little apart, steady because everyone needed him to be. The way his mouth softened when he looked at me, even for a second. It felt like something settled between us that had been brewing for days. Not perfect. Not solved. But… better.
