"Don't thank us yet," Stefan said. "We brought food. And wine. Figured you'd need both."
They'd set up dinner in the dining room. Nothing fancy, just takeout from multiple places. But it was exactly what we needed—normalcy, family, support.
We sat down to eat. At first the conversation was cautious, dancing around what had happened. But gradually it became more normal. Emilio told a story about a case he was working on. Stefan complained about a property deal that was taking forever. Elio made sarcastic comments that made Valentino laugh.
Normal. As normal as possible when we were both wearing ankle monitors and facing federal charges.
After dinner, everyone gradually left. Each one offering help, support, anything we needed. Until finally it was just me and Valentino in our penthouse.
Alone for the first time since being arrested.
Valentino immediately collapsed onto the couch. "I don't think I've ever been this exhausted."
"Same." I sat beside him. "How are you? Really?"
"Terrified. Overwhelmed. Grateful to be home." He leaned against me. "The processing was humiliating. The cell was awful. The arraignment was surreal. And now we're just... here. Waiting for trial."
"We'll get through it."
"Will we? Luca, they could convict us. We could go to prison. You could get ten to fifteen years. I could get five to seven." Hisvoice broke slightly. "That's our future. Prison time. Separation. Years of our lives gone."
"Or we could beat the charges. Be acquitted. Walk away free."
"Do you really believe that?"
"I believe we have a chance. And I believe we have the best lawyer in the city. And I believe that we're going to fight with everything we have." I turned to face him. "But yes, there's a chance we could lose. A chance we could both go to prison. And if that happens, we'll deal with it. Together."
"How do we deal with being separated for years?"
"We survive it. We visit. We write. We hold on to each other even from different locations." I caught his face in my hands. "Valentino, I love you. That doesn't change because of a verdict. That doesn't change because of prison time. I love you and I'm committed to you and we're going to get through whatever comes."
Tears were running down his face. "I love you too. And I'm so sorry I got you into this."
"You didn't get me into anything. I got myself into this. Years of choices led to this arrest." I wiped his tears. "But I don't regret any of it. Because all of those choices led me to you. And you're worth it. All of it."
He kissed me then, desperate and emotional. I kissed back just as hard, both of us needing the connection, the reassurance, the physical proof that we were still here, still together, still choosing each other.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
"Bed," I said. "We both need to sleep."
"I don't think I can sleep."
"Then we'll just lie there. Together. But we need to try."
We went to the bedroom and stripped down to underwear. Climbed into bed and found each other in the darkness. I pulledhim against me, his back to my chest, my arms wrapped around him.
"We made it through day one," I said quietly.
"We made it through day one," he agreed. "How many days until trial?"
"Months. Probably six months minimum."
"That's a lot of days."
"We'll take them one at a time." I held him tighter. "One day at a time. Together."
He threaded his fingers through mine. "Together."
