"What?" She settles into the chair beside my bed like she's planning to stay for the entire interrogation. "You almost died, Nicolò. Life is short. I want grandchildren before I'm too old to chase them."
Kristen opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
I would find this hilarious if my chest didn't feel like someone parked a truck on it.
"We haven't discussed—" Kristen starts.
"Marriage," my mother finishes. "Yes, well, you should. Soon." Her expression shifts, becoming suddenly serious. The change is so abrupt that even Kristen goes still. "Nicolò Sartori."
Fuck.
The full name. Nothing good ever follows the full name.
"You are not having this woman work for us anymore, correct?" My mother's voice could cut glass. "Now that you are together?"
Kristen looks at me with barely concealed panic. I would laugh, but I'm exhausted and everything hurts and I haven't slept properly in days.
"Aria." Kristen stands, her hands raised like she's approaching a wild animal. "I appreciate everything your family has done for me and Lily. Really. But Nico and I just... we literally just had this conversation. Five minutes ago. Before you walked in."
"Five minutes is plenty of time." My mother is unmoved. "I decided to marry Giuseppe in three."
Kristen remains silent because what can she even say?
"Rest now. You look terrible." Aria says.
"Grazie."
"I will send Vittoria to sit with you." She glances at Kristen. "Unless..."
"I'm staying," Kristen says quickly. "If that's okay."
"Of course it's okay." My mother smiles. "Welcome to the family, Kristen. Officially."
She sweeps out of the room before either of us can respond, leaving the soup and approximately seventeen unanswered questions in her wake.
Kristen stares at the closed door.
"Did your mother just..."
"Adopt you? Probably." I shift on the bed, trying to find a position that doesn't make me want to scream. "She's been wanting to do that since the night you saved her."
"I performed the Heimlich maneuver. I didn't donate a kidney."
"Same thing, in her mind."
Kristen laughs.
"Come here," I say.
"You need to rest."
"I need you. I'll rest better if you're here."
She hesitates for only a moment before climbing carefully onto the bed beside me. The hospital mattress isn't meant for two people, but I don't care. Her head finds the space betweenmy shoulder and my jaw, her body curving against mine like she was designed to fit there.
"Your mother is terrifying," she whispers.
"You have no idea."
