Cassia’s eyes glisten. She doesn’t speak.
“That’s her legacy,” Nonna continues. “Not the clinics or the charity work, though Lord knows she was proud of those. Her legacy is this family. How we gather. How we stay.”
She reaches out, cups Cassia’s cheek with a damp hand.
“And now it’s yours.”
I should leave. This moment isn’t mine.
But my hand is braced against the doorframe and my knuckles have gone white. Something with teeth is pressing against my ribs, and I can’t move. Can’t look away.
Fuck. Fuck me.
Cassia looks up. Finds me standing there. Her eyes are wet but she’s smiling.
“I know,” she says. Not to me. To Nonna Rosa. To the house. To whatever piece of Lucia still lingers in these walls.
“I’ll take care of them. I promise.”
Nonna Rosa pats her cheek. “I know you will,cher. I’ve known since the day you walked through that door.”
After Nonna has gone to bed, I find Cassia on the back veranda. She’s looking out at the garden where we got married. The fairy lights are still up, tangled through the jasmine. The chairs have been put away, but I can still see them. The arch where she walked toward me. The spot where I promised her everything.
“Hey.”
She turns. Smiles.
“Hey.”
I settle beside her, pull her against my chest. She fits. She always has.
“Good dinner,” she says.
“Good dinner.”
We stand there in silence, watching the garden, listening to the night. Somewhere in the house, Nonna is humming. An old song. One my mother used to sing.
“Dante?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For this. For all of it.”
I press a kiss to her hair. Breathe her in.
“Thank you for staying.”
She tips her head back to look at me. “Where else would I be?”
Nowhere. There’s nowhere else she should be. There’s nowhere else I want her to be.
I tilt her chin up. Kiss her slow and thorough, tasting wine and bread and Nonna’s red gravy and something underneath all of it that’s just her. She makes a sound against my mouth and my arms tighten, pulling her closer.
Anyone who touches you dies. That’s not a threat.
It wasn’t then. It isn’t now. It won’t be tomorrow.
She pulls back. Looks at me with those dark eyes that see everything I am and don’t flinch.
