“It can be both.”
“Enough,” I say.
But there is no real threat in it, and they both hear that too.
For a moment, we sit with the strange newness of all of this. Anna between us, Victoria somewhere beyond the walls of this house.
I pick up my wine again.
This time, I drink.
Then I set it down and look at them.
“Your mother would also tell both of you to mind your own business.”
Tomasso’s smile returns, sharper now. “No, she would not.”
Matteo shakes his head. “She would have asked for details.”
“She would have demanded details,” Tomasso corrects.
I laugh.
“She would have liked Victoria,” he adds.
My gaze moves to him.
“You haven’t met her.”
“Presumably.”
“And when is that going to change?” Matteo asks.
“Enough,” I say, but it’s said with amusement.
For the first time tonight and in a long time, the house does not feel like a place where the dead are kept untouched.
It feels like a place where my sons remember their mother clearly enough to argue with me in her name.
Anna would have loved that.
God help me, she would have loved it.
And Tomasso is right.
She would have loved Victoria.
Chapter Twenty Nine
Victoria
By the time I reach the park, I have almost turned around six times.
But I am here now.
Which means, apparently, I am doing this.
The park is busy enough to be public but not so crowded that everyone becomes indistinct. People with strollers. A man walking two dogs. Someone jogging past with headphones in.
