He'd been showing up regularly over the past month—always respectful, always asking permission, always trying. Paola had slowly, carefully let him into our lives.
For Lucia's sake, she'd said. Because every child deserves grandparents who love them.
"This is for the nursery," Giovanni said, handing Paola the gift. "I thought—well, I hope you like it."
Inside was a hand-knit blanket. Soft yellow wool with tiny white flowers embroidered along the border.
"Did you make this?" Paola asked, voice catching.
"I learned. From YouTube videos. It's not perfect, but—"
"It's beautiful, Papa. Thank you."
The moment between them was tender. Healing. Not complete—that would take time—but genuine.
Later, after games and cake and entirely too many gifts, Piero stood to give a speech.
"I'm not good with words," he started. "But I wanted to say—Lucia is the luckiest kid in the world. She's got Cesare as a father, which means she'll be protected and loved and probably spoiled. She's got Paola as a mother, which means she'll be strong and kind and way smarter than the rest of us."
Everyone laughed.
"And she's got me as Uncle Piero, which means she'll have someone to teach her how to break rules and get away with it."
"Absolutely not," I said.
"Too late. Already planning the fun uncle activities." Piero's expression softened. "But seriously—welcome to the world,Lucia. We've been waiting for you. And we're going to love you so much."
Paola was crying. Anna was crying. Even Giovanni looked suspiciously misty-eyed.
After everyone left—after the gifts were piled in the nursery and the decorations taken down—Paola collapsed on the couch, exhausted.
"That was perfect," she said. "Exactly what I needed."
"You're exhausted."
"I'm pregnant. I'm always exhausted." She patted the couch beside her. "Come here."
I sat, and she immediately curled against my side, her belly pressing into my ribs.
"Two and a half months," she murmured. "Ten weeks until we meet her."
"Are you scared?"
"Terrified. You?"
"Absolutely."
"Good. We're a team in our terror."
Lucia kicked hard enough that I felt it through Paola's shirt. "She's awake."
"She's always awake when we're talking. I think she likes your voice."
I placed my hand on the bump, felt another strong kick. "Hi, Lucia. Did you enjoy your party? Everyone's so excited to meet you."
Another kick, right where my hand rested.
"She heard you," Paola said softly.
