Relief hits me so fast it’s almost painful. My eyes burn instantly, traitorous, and I press my fingertips to my mouth like that can keep the emotion in.
I unlock the door and pull it open.
But it’s not just Bianca. Two women stand in the hallway.
Both beautiful, in that polished, effortless way that makes you straighten your shoulders without thinking. One has striking blue eyes and dark hair, and she’s holding a little girl on her hip—maybe two—who is nearly the spitting image of her, from the same eyes to the same soft curve of cheek.
The other woman has green eyes and lighter hair, and she’s holding the hand of a little boy—a little younger than the girl—who looks very obviously like a Conti. The same dark hair. The same serious expression on his face.
She’s also sporting a small baby bump and a box of goods in her other hand.
My throat tightens.
I step back automatically, making space, because that’s what you do when family shows up at your door. Even when you didn’t know they were your family too, in the strangest, quickest way possible.
Bianca smiles first, warmly, but like she’s already clocking the tension in my posture, the paleness in my face.
“Hi,” she says softly. “You must be Elsa.”
I nod, because my voice is stuck somewhere in my chest. “Yes. I— Hi.”
The other woman gives me a sympathetic look, like she knows exactly what kind of day I’ve had without me saying a word.
“I’m Elena,” she says, and her voice has a lightness to it that somehow feels practiced, calming. Protective. “Luca’s wife.”
Luca’s wife.
So this is… that close. This is the center of it.
Elena shifts the little girl higher on her hip. The toddler stares at me with solemn curiosity, then tucks her face briefly into Elena’s shoulder like she’s shy.
“This is Alessandra,” Elena says, rubbing a small back in a soothing motion that looks like habit. “And this little menace”—she tips her chin toward the boy with fondness—“is Alessandra’s favorite cousin.”
Bianca rolls her eyes, affectionate. “This is Stephano,” she says, squeezing the boy’s hand. “Like his father, he thinks smiling freely is illegal.”
Stephano stares at me like I’m a stranger in his territory. Which… fair.
My gaze flicks down to their hands, to the little fingers, to the normalcy of it—kids and family and two women standing in a hallway like this is just a regular visit.
I swallow, hard. “I… didn’t know anyone was coming.”
“We know,” Elena says gently. “Antonio didn’t either. It was a last-minute call by Luca. He decided it would be safer if he came to you instead of Antonio leaving.”
My stomach dips. “They’re here?”
“They’re over at Vito’s right now,” Elena says, waving a hand. “Having a manly-man meeting. I bet there are lots of stern faces and grunts of ‘we’ll handle it.’ A lot of talk about how they must protect the womenfolk and children.”
Bianca snorts softly, and the sound of it loosens something in my chest.
I step back farther, letting them in. “I’m sorry. Please. Come in.”
They move past me without hesitation, like they’ve been in this apartment a thousand times—because they have. I’m the one who doesn’t belong here.
Elena looks at me again, the softness returning.
“You’re okay?” Bianca asks.
I nod, even though it’s a lie in at least five different ways. “I’m…”
