“Why?” I asked.
She paused, surprised I’d pressed for an answer. “Resentment,” she said slowly. “It wasn’t fair, and your dad and I talked about this over the years.”
“Punish him?”
More tears rushed down her face. “Yes. I know he felt guilt for taking me away from mafia life. That was why he let me treat him that way.”
“I hated you, Mamma.” My voice was soft. A whisper. Tears sprang to my eyes.
“I know, Stellina, and I’m sorry.” She stroked my hand as if I hadn’t put into words my animosity toward her. “I knew you blamed me for your brother becoming a made man.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was mentally sapped. Maybe emotionally too, but I had to string together the words to the sentences that would finally bury the rift between us in the past.
“Dom loves being don,” I told her, voice breaking. “Not mad anymore.”
“Is everything all right in here?” Kirill stood there glowering at Mamma. “She can’t be exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “A long…” I searched for the word. “…overdue talk…conversation.”
Dad eyed us warily. “Are you sure? We can come back later?”
“No. Stay. Both of you.”
Kirill quirked a brow. “And me?”
“Dinner.”
“You want me in charge of dinner?”
I nodded. “Four.”
I was back to one-word answers.
But Kirill didn’t seem to mind, and he understood me.
Dad and Mamma stayed for a while. There was a round dining table in the suite. It was strange that the first time Kirill and I had dinner with my parents, it was because I was in the hospital. My husband picked Vietnamese food, and I couldn’t be happier with my beef pho. It was nothing fancy—street food, and no time for pretense.
Kirill insisted on feeding me because of the left wrist cast. He cut up the beef and the noodles and fed me using a soup spoonful at a time. I could see Mamma smile with approval. Before they left, even Dad looked on with reluctant respect because Kirill was showing them he took his responsibilities to me seriously.
Bianca told me Uncle Cesar didn’t warm up to Sandro for the longest time.
But I think today, my dad finally saw the promise of Kirill as a husband worthy of his daughter.
And suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get back to the way we were. I knew I was mad at Kirill before the accident. He hadn’t been honest with me. But after I heard the nurses gushing that I had such a devoted husband who barely left my side, that told me more than anything that I was Kirill’s priority. That I was important to him.
We made mistakes, but it wasn’t too late to have a marriage beyond my wildest dreams.
“Go home?” I asked Kirill.
He held my gaze. “I’ll check with Doctor Ripley.” He lifted me up and carried me to the bed.
“Should walk.”
“You’ve done enough walking. I want to carry you.”
He laid me on the bed like I was a wounded bird. But I grabbed his arm. He paused and gave me a questioning glance.
“Cuddle with me?”
