"That he's sorry. That he'll spend the rest of his life being sorry."
"Does he expect forgiveness?"
"No. He expects nothing. But he's hoping for a chance someday. After he's done his time."
"And you told him...?"
"That maybe. Someday. If he proves he's changed." I looked at my brother. "How do you feel about that?"
Piero was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know. He was my friend. Then he betrayed me in the worst possible way. I'm not ready to forgive. But maybe someday I could be."
"That's fair."
"Besides, Lucia should know her Uncle Matteo eventually. If he's genuinely better. If he's earned it."
"That's what I thought too."
We finished the crib, stood back to admire our work.
"Not bad," Piero said.
"Only took us two hours instead of twenty minutes."
"We're improving."
The changing table went faster. The dresser took another hour. By the time we finished, the nursery looked like an actual room for an actual baby.
Real.
"She's going to love this," Piero said softly. "Lucia. She's going to be so loved."
"She is."
"Thank you. For letting me be part of this. For not pushing me away after everything with Rosa."
"You're my brother. My family. Nothing changes that."
He pulled me into a hug—rare for us, but necessary. "I love you, Cesare. And I'm going to love that little girl like she's my own."
"I know. She's lucky to have you."
After Piero left, I found Paola in the nursery, running her hand over the crib rail.
"It's perfect," she said. "Everything's ready for her."
"Almost everything. We still need bedding. And a mobile. And about a thousand other things according to the registry you made."
"We have time."
"Four and a half months. That's not much time."
She turned, wrapped her arms around my neck, the bump pressed between us, Lucia a physical presence in our embrace.
"We're going to be parents," she said. "In four and a half months, we're going to have a baby."
"Terrifying."
"Exciting."
