MATTEO
Six Months Later
If someone had told me two years ago that I’d end up here, married, standing in a hospital room kissing my wife while she held our daughter, I would’ve laughed in their face.
I always used to believe that men like me don’t get this.
We get bloodshed. Power. Enemies.
Not happy endings.
But then I saw what Salvatore had and realized maybe I was wrong.
I hold my daughter in my arms and everything in me freezes.
She’s so small, carefully wrapped in a blanket and barely moving except for the slow, steady rise of her chest. I stare at her for a long moment, like if I blink, she might disappear.
“Is she supposed to be this small? I remember Leo was twice her size.”
“She’s okay,” Lindsay murmurs softly from the bed.
I glance at her. She looks exhausted, her hair is a mess, her face is pale, and there are faint shadows beneath her eyes. Butshe’s smiling. She’s smiling and it’s on par with the beauty I see on my daughter’s face.
I step closer and place the baby against her chest. Lindsay holds her like she’s the most fragile thing in the world.
“Lucia,” she say quietly, testing it. Then she nods, her eyes meeting mine. “Lucia Lydia Vitale.”
We already agreed her middle name would be her late grandmother’s. I nod once, feeling pride and joy, love and everything at once.
Lindsay swallows, her gaze drifting back to the baby.
“Lucia Lydia,” she murmurs. “Sorry for the alliteration, sweetheart. You can blame Daddy.”
The door opens quietly behind me before small footsteps rush into the room.
“Daddy!”
I turn just in time to catch Leo before he slams directly into my leg. Roscoe follows behind him, looking apologetic, but I barely notice because my son’s attention is already locked on the baby.
His eyes go wide.
“Mommy, that’s her?” he asks quietly.
Lindsay instantly softens. “Come here, sweetheart. Come meet your little sister.”
I lift him carefully onto the edge of the bed, keeping one hand steady at his back while he leans closer.
Leo stares down at Lucia like she’s the most important thing he’s ever seen.
“She’s tiny,” he whispers.
Lindsay smiles. “That she is.”
Lucia’s little hand moves suddenly, fingers curling around one of Leo’s.
My son freezes.
Then his entire face lights up so brightly it nearly knocks the air from my lungs.
