"It's nothing," he says too quickly, his jaw tightening. "Just a bruise."
A bruise from what?Before I can ask, Amauri barrels into him like a missile. "Massimo!"
He scoops him up automatically, laughter breaking through his fatigue, then there's another brief wince, almost imperceptible, but I see it this time. My stomach tightens. He'supright. He's steady. I don't see blood. Whatever it is, it's not catastrophic.Be patient,I tell myself.Not now.
Amauri wraps himself around Massimo's neck like an octopus. "You're back! You promised!"
"I did," Massimo says, pressing a kiss to his hair. "And I keep my promises."
I watch them together, my chest aches with how right this looks. Then Amauri's eyes light up with a new thought. "So," he tries for nonchalant like he's not been thinking about it all day, drawing the word out, glancing between us with unmistakable calculation, "Mummy says that waterpark down there isyours?"
Massimo arches a brow, amused. "She did, huh?"
"And she said we could go," Amauri adds quickly. "Like. Soon."
He fixes Massimo with his most devastating weapon: wide, hopeful eyes.
I cross my arms, trying—and failing—not to smile. "He's been talking about it all afternoon."
Massimo looks at me over Amauri's head, something warm and dangerous in his gaze.
"Well," his face doesn't give anything away, as if considering a high-stakes negotiation, "that sounds like something we should discuss over dinner."
Amauri gasps. "That means yes."
Massimo laughs softly. "That meansmaybe."
Amauri beams anyway, clearly counting it as a win. Then he looks back at Massimo, and the smile on his face could melt an iceberg instantly. "The decorator was also here, she said she could make me an awesome Hammie wall."
I lean against the counter, watching the two of them, and the weight of the day finally eases from my shoulders. Whatever storms are still waiting for us—whatever truths tomorrow brings—this moment feels real. Good. Earned. For now, it's enough.
The next morning…
Morning comes sharp and unkind. Max is already on Amauri duty when we leave: quiet competence, eyes alert, a presence that reassures without hovering. Esther will be back later. Everything is covered. Everythingexceptthis. Jenna slides into the car beside me without hesitation. The door closes. The city starts to move.
"Are you sure you want to be there for this?" I ask, keeping my voice level.
She nods. "No," her words contradict the gesture. "But I need to."
I lace my fingers through hers, feel the steady warmth, the faint tremor she doesn't try to hide. "If it gets too much?—"
"I'll tell you," she assures me. "I'll leave."
I glance at her. "You don't have to prove anything."
She exhales, almost a laugh. "Don't worry. I won't make a scene in front of your men."
That earns her a look. "I'm more worried about you," I clarify.
She meets my gaze, then says quietly, "Call me."
I frown. "What?"
"That's what he said," she continues, eyes forward now. "After he delivered me to the coach. He leaned in and said,Call me."
The car goes very still. She shakes her head once, as if clearing it. "Trust me. Whatever you're planning for the bastard, it's more than deserved."
Silence settles between us, thick but not strained. I keep my hand in hers, grounding myself in the present, even as my mind drifts backward. To yesterday. To Joaquín.
