"Thank you," she says simply. "For being here. For loving us. For being exactly who we needed."
"I should be thanking you," I tell her honestly. "You gave us a daughter. You built this family. You made me believe that happiness was possible."
Dante finally moves from his position at the foot of the bed, coming around to sit on Rosalina's other side. He cups her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on her cheeks.
"You were incredible," he tells her, his voice rough with emotion. "Watching you bring our daughter into this world—I have never been more in awe of another human being."
"I yelled a lot," Rosalina says with a weak laugh. "And I think I threatened to kill all three of you at least twice."
"Four times," Luca corrects. "But who is counting?"
"You handled it better than most first-time mothers," Dante says. "The doctor said so."
"The doctor also said I have a very high pain tolerance," Rosalina adds. "Which we already knew, but it is nice to have medical confirmation."
She has always been the strongest person I know. Watching her bring Maggie into the world just confirmed it.
"You need to rest," I tell her, because she looks exhausted despite the adrenaline still clearly pumping through her system. "We will be right here when you wake up."
"All three of you?" She looks between us, her expression vulnerable. "You’re not going anywhere?"
"Nowhere," Dante confirms. "We will take shifts sleeping in the chair. One of us will always be awake, always be here."
"Always," Luca echoes, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Rosalina's eyes drift closed, and within minutes her breathing evens out into sleep. We sit in silence for a while, the three of us watching her rest, processing what just happened.
We are fathers.
The word still doesn’t feel real.
"I never thought this would be my life," Luca says quietly, his eyes still red-rimmed from crying. "A wife. A daughter. A family that is mine by choice rather than blood. I thought I would spend my life alone, serving Dante, dying young in some mafia conflict."
"Me too," I admit. "I was raised to be a weapon. A protector. Someone who watches other people build lives while I stand guard. I never imagined I could have this."
Dante is quiet for a long moment, his hand resting on Rosalina's ankle beneath the hospital blanket. When he finally speaks, his voice is thick with emotion.
"My father told me I was too soft to lead. Too emotional. Too much like my mother." He pauses, swallowing hard. "He said those things like they were weaknesses. But watching Rosalina today, seeing the strength it takes to love someone completely—I understand now that he was wrong. Emotion is not weakness. Love is not softness. They are the things that make us willing to fight, willing to protect, willing to die if necessary."
"Giovanni is still going to be a problem," I point out, because we cannot ignore the reality of Dante's father forever. "When he finds out about Maggie, about the marriage being real now?—"
"Let him be a problem," Dante says, and there is steel in his voice. "I have spent my whole life trying to earn his approval. I am done. My family is here—Rosalina, Maggie, you two. Everything else is secondary."
"He will try to use Maggie as leverage," Luca warns. "Try to force you to choose between your father's legacy and your daughter."
"Then he will learn that it is not a choice," Dante says simply. "Maggie comes first. Always. The Salvatore empire, the mafia politics, my father's expectations—none of it matters more than protecting my daughter."
Our daughter, I think, but I don’t correct him. Because right now, in this moment of fierce paternal protectiveness, Dante needs to claim her. Needs to make that declaration a priority.
Later, when we are home and settled and the reality of parenthood sets in, we will go back to calling her ours.
The nurse returns with Maggie, now swaddled in a pink blanket and wearing a tiny knit cap. "She is all checked out," the nurse says cheerfully. "Perfectly healthy. Ten fingers, ten toes, strong lungs—which you will discover soon enough when she wants to be fed."
I take Maggie carefully, cradling her against my chest, and she makes a small snuffling sound that might be the most perfect noise I have ever heard.
"I am going to teach you everything," I tell her quietly, knowing she cannot understand me but needing to say it anyway. "How to protect yourself. How to fight. How to be strong and fierce and unafraid. But I am also going to make sure you know you are loved. That you are safe. That you never have to be a weapon unless you choose to be."
"We are going to spoil her rotten," Luca says, moving to stand beside me, one finger tracing the curve of Maggie's tiny ear. "She is going to have everything. Every toy, every opportunity, every advantage we can give her."
