"But also excited?"
"Both." I pulled her closer. "Constantly."
"I think so. At least, that's what all the pregnancy forums say."
"You're reading pregnancy forums?"
"Obsessively. At three AM when I can't sleep." She rested her head on my shoulder. "Did you know twins can have completely different personalities even in the womb? One might be active while the other's calm. One might respond to music while the other ignores it."
"I didn't know that."
"Pregnancy forums. Three a.m." She shifted closer. "Now I can't stop wondering which one will be which."
I pressed a kiss to her hair, let myself imagine it. Two distinct personalities. Two different people we'd get to know, raise, and watch grow.
Domenico visited on day twelve, ostensibly to check security but really to see how we were handling everything.
"You look like shit," he observed, studying my face.
"Thanks. You're a real morale boost."
"I'm honest. There's a difference." He settled into a chair and accepted the coffee I offered. "How's Valentina?"
"Sick. Exhausted. Handling it better than I am."
"And you?"
I was quiet for a moment. "I don't know how to be a father, Dom. I keep reading these books, and they all assume you had normal parents who modeled normal behavior. But my father—" I stopped, scrubbed a hand over my face. "What if I damage them the way he damaged me?"
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're worried about it." Domenico leaned forward. "Marco never questioned whether he was a good father. Your father never wondered if his methods were right. But you're sitting here at two p.m. reading parenting books and spiraling about whether you'll be good enough. That's the difference."
The words settled something inside me.
"Besides," Domenico added, "you've got Valentina. Sofia. Me. You're not doing this alone. And those kids are going to be so loved they won't know what to do with it."
"You're really okay with this? Being their padrino?"
"You promised me that, remember?" He grinned. "And yeah, I'm more than okay with it. Someone needs to teach them how to hotwire cars and pick locks when they're older."
The joke landed differently now. But I let it go—Dom meant well, and maybe some skills were worth having regardless of how they were acquired.
"They're not even born yet, and you're already planning their criminal education?"
"Never too early." His expression softened. "But seriously, Alessio—you're going to be a great father. You're going to love them fiercely and protect them completely and teach them to be better than we were. That's all anyone can do."
After he left, I felt lighter. Not completely unburdened, but less alone in it.
That night, I found Valentina in the nursery we'd started setting up in the safe house's spare room.
She stood in the middle of the empty space, one hand on her small bump, staring at blank walls.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked, wrapping my arms around her from behind.
"Paint colors. Cribs. Where everything should go." She leaned back against my chest. "Trying to make it feel real."
