Then she turns, almost as an afterthought.
“Bye, Dad. See you tomorrow.”
Only now does it occur to me that he’s here. “Hi, Colin. Thanks for bringing her.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” he replies, his jaw set, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
Alicia closes the door, and we walk together toward Alexander and his family.
The adults greet her with handshakes and kisses on both cheeks. Most of the children wrap their arms around her waist; a few stay behind, clinging to their parents’ legs, studying her with open curiosity.
It’s Cella who asks Alicia to bend down, gently touching her hair, saying it’s the same color as mine. Only with prettier curls.
Alicia smiles, undoubtedly charmed.
Small hands slip into hers, and she’s led inside Alexander’s house, where part of the family is already spread throughout the living room.
I follow close behind, just in time to see Nonna rise from the couch and open her arms wide.
“I was counting the days to meet you,bambina mia[LXXVI],” she says.
Cella translates quickly when she notices my daughter’s hesitation.
Alicia approaches with careful steps, and Nonna pulls her into an enveloping hug. She already knows her. I’ve shown her countless photos and videos, especially the ones of Nonna scolding one of her grandkids.
I have to swallow hard, my heart beating frantically, as I watch the tenderness with which Nonna strokes Alicia’s hair, then cups her face.
“Sei una ragazza bellissima. Beautiful, beautiful,” she says. “You have the same light in your eyes as your mother. Different color, but same light.Sì.”
“Thank you, ma’am...” Alicia replies, shy.
“No, no ma’am,” Nonna corrects, firm but smiling. “It’sNonna.”
“N-Nonna?” Alicia repeats, carefully.
“Very good,cara. Molto bene!” Nonna says, delighted, looping her arm through Alicia’s and steering her toward the kitchen. “Tell me about your ballet.”
She turns to Cella and adds in Italian, “Bambina mia, come and translate for your great-grandmother.”
Cella giggles, and she and the other children trail after Nonna, who begins rummaging through Alexander’s cabinets, announcing she’s making hot chocolate for everyone, and that it’s a very good thing her grandson keeps a well-stocked pantry.
I remain where I am for a heartbeat longer, watching the house fill with voices and movement, my heart full in a way that feels almost unreal.
I feel Alexander’s arms slide around me, and I let myself lean back into him, a smile finding its way to my lips.
“So,” he murmurs close to my ear, “did you like the surprise?”
“I loved it,” I say, then I turn within his arms to face him. “That’s why you stopped talking about Christmas, isn’t it?”
Alexander grins, his amber eyes glinting. “It was either that, or you would’ve figured out I was planning something.”
I’d been preparing myself for a whole week without him, for the distance until New Year’s Eve while he was finding ways to make the holidays special for both of us.
I place my hand over his heart, feeling it beat beneath my palm.
“When I think you couldn’t possibly make me any happier... when I think I couldn’t love you more than I already do,” I say softly, almost to myself, “you prove me wrong.”
He leans in and kisses me. It’s brief and chaste, but gives me butterflies in my stomach all the same.
