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“And Sergei? Is he all right?”
“I’m fine,” my husband replied.
“I received Arsen’s statement,” Raffaele said. “And the footage from the warehouse. I know what happened. What you had to do, my daughter.” Raffaele lowered his eyes for a moment. “I failed you after your mother died,” he continued. “I convinced myself distance was the only form of love that would not kill you.”
Sergei’s hand tightened once around mine.
“I’m not ready to forgive everything,” I said.
“I know.”
“I don’t know what kind of relationship we’re going to have, but I’m willing to try limited contact.”
Raffaele’s face relaxed just the tiniest bit. Another person might have missed it, but I had spent my life reading men who believed emotion made them vulnerable. My father was relieved.
“You will call me directly from now on,” I continued. “No surprise transfers, apartments, gifts, or security arrangements. You ask before involving yourself in my life. And you do not make decisions for Nonna or Nonno. Protection around them happens with their agreement.”
“Of course.”
“This is a new beginning for us,” I told him. “That’s all this is.”
Raffaele looked at me for a long moment.
“A fresh start is more than I hoped for,” he replied with a soft smile.
I hadn’t expected him to say that. The anger inside me didn’t vanish. Neither did the fifteen-year-old girl who had stared at funeral flowers from Sicily and decided her father loved his work more than his daughter.
“You can call Sunday,” I said. “Please text first, though.”
* * *
Sergei asked his brothers to remain after supper. The five brothers gathered in Maxim’s smaller sitting room, the one the family used when business talk was not supposed to enter. There was only a fire, a bottle of vodka, and enough chairs for everyone.
I sat beside my husband. Maxim poured five glasses, but Sergei didn’t pick his up. Instead, he took my hand in his and looked at each one of his brothers in turn.
“There is something about Mila that I never told you,” he began. My husband looked down at our joined hands. “The medical examiner found that she was pregnant with my child when she died.”
Ivan slowly removed his glasses while Nikolai stopped breathing for a moment. Aleksei’s face fell, and Maxim’s fingers tightened around the bottle.
“You decided to carry that alone? All this time?”
“Yes. I did.”
“Why?”
Sergei’s thumb moved across my knuckles.
“Because you’d already lost Mama and Papa. Mila was another war waiting to happen. Knowing about the child would have only made things worse.”
Maxim finally moved. He set the vodka bottle on the table and stood in front of his brother. Then, he put one hand against the back of Sergei’s neck and pulled him forward until their foreheads touched for the briefest of seconds. Then Nikolai came closer, followed by Ivan and Aleksei, the brothers closing around Sergei without speeches, strategy, or any attempt to solve what could never be repaired. After a long moment, Maxim pulled back, returned to the table, and poured a sixth glass, placing it beside the others.
“To Mila and the baby,” he said.
“To Mila,” Sergei said.
The five brothers raised their glasses. I picked up the one meant for Mila and joined in, taking a sip along with them.
In that moment, I’d never felt more at home.
