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His excited laugh comes out free and loud. “She’s going to be trouble. The best kind.”
“Just like her mother.”
I hand Elena back to him and sink against the pillows, starting to succumb to fatigue. “I love you. I love her. And I love this life we’re building. Every broken piece of it.”
He crosses over to me, Elena cradled in his arms, and kisses me softly and sweetly. Our first kiss to mark this new family of three.
“I love you too,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Both of you. More than I ever thought I could love anything, and far beyond what I ever let myself want.”
I wake to find Marco still watching me. Elena sleeps on his chest, rising and falling with each of his breaths. The room is dark now, the windows showing only the distant lights of the city. The hospital is quiet at night. Marco’s hand rests on Elena’s back, steadying her, and his eyes possess a softness I’ve never seen before.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers sharply. “Elena’s with me, and I’ll stay awake while I’m holding her. Rest. I’ll be here when you open your eyes.”
So I do, and the second I close my eyelids, sleep drags me under.
The last thought I carry into the dark isn’t one about fear. It’s about the quiet certainty that this life is ours to keep.
I dream of a little girl with her father’s nose and stubbornness, growing up in a world we’re striving to make better, one day at a time. I dream of the center opening its doors, of the kids who’ll come to learn and heal and grow. I dream of an older Marco teaching our daughter to throw a punch and when to walk away, his hands gentle on her shoulders and his voice patient and sure.
When I wake in the morning, I cradle my daughter and sit beside Marco as the sun rises over the city.
Epilogue
Marco
One year later
The community center’s back courtyard has been strung with lights and lined with folding tables. Elena’s first birthday has brought the Benedetti famiglia together like nothing since our wedding, and I stand in the doorway, watching it all happen.
The padrino sits beside Rocco at one of the tables, a coffee in his hand, observing as Sophia guides Valentina across the paved courtyard. At twenty months, Valentina toddles on unsteady legs, her dark curls bouncing, a fistful of wildflowers she pulled from the planter box clutched in her hand. Sophia follows a few paces behind, one hand outstretched, close enough to catch Valentina but determined to let their daughter find her own footing.
Enzo throws back his head, cackling at something Rocco says. For a moment, the padrino I’ve known for years is replaced by a man just grateful to be alive.
Izzy has been in Atlantic City for the past year on an assignment for a casino project, but she’s home now. The project’s architect and her new boyfriend, Oliver, is at her side, looking slightly overwhelmed by the crowd. But I daresay, Oliver looks like a better fit for Izzy than the previous guy. Henry Romano was a disaster in every manner of the word, and I’m glad to see someone’s helped Izzy move past that mistake.
Gio’s here too, planted near the doors out of habit, though these days his security firm guards gala openings and ribbon cuttings instead of smugglers.
Jenna sits cross-legged on an outdoor rug nearby with Elena in her lap, doing her valiant best to contain a one-year-old who’s recently discovered that legs are for standing. Elena pulls herself upright against Jenna’s shoulder, takes three teetering steps toward Valentina, and sits down firmly on the concrete, prompting everyone to laughter.
Lucia sits near the courtyard wall, watching Elena with a wonder that hasn’t dimmed, the same expression she wore the first time I placed our daughter in her arms.
“You’re staring.” She looks up as I approach, her knowing smile carrying that familiar warmth that broke me open and let the light in. “What are you thinking about? You’ve got that face.”
I lower myself beside her on the rug and pull her against my side. “Just thinking about how I’m here seeing our daughter eat cake with her whole face, you’re here growing our second child, and I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
She leans into me, her fingers lacing through mine. “It was a long road. A hard one.”
“The longest and hardest.” I kiss her hair. “Worth it, though. Every step.”
Elena crawls toward us, pink frosting smeared across her cheeks as she spreads out her arms. She’s tiny and perfect. So much of her mother lives in her, in the set of her mouth, in how she looks at the world like it’s full of wonder.
“Papa.” She pats my cheek with sticky fingers, and my heart breaks open the way it does every time she says it. “Papa.”
“That’s right.” I scoop her into my lap. “I’m Papa. And you’re my whole world. You and Mama.”
Enzo wanders over, Valentina balanced on his hip, and nods at the building behind us. “Marco, I’d like to hear how the programs are going. Tell me how I can help you do more.”
I balance Elena on my hip, and her fist grips my shirt. “Sixty-three kids enrolled in the gym programs in the first quarter. The clinic sees hundreds of regular patients now. And we have three youth kickboxing championships happening in four months.”
