Page 125 of Milo

"Yes.” She lets out a heavy sigh. "His exact words were: Mamma, I fucked up.”

"Oh...” I blink, taken aback by the curse words slipping from her elegant mouth.

"He also told me that he proposed to you," she continues, her body language difficult for me to read. "But you have yet to give him an answer." She tilts her head. "Do you love my son, Kiara?"

"Uh—" I stammer, gripping the novel that's resting on my lap. I want to be offended that she'd ask such an intrusive and invasive question but the lack of malice or judgment in her tone makes me think that she comes in peace. "He has many qualities that I love and many that I don't."

"You cannot love pieces, Kiara," she states, glancing at the painting of her late husband. "You must love the whole man or love none of him."

I'm trying.

"You loved your husband?" I ask, following her sightline. "All of him?"

She swallows, her gaze distant. "Our marriage was determined long before I was even born," she reveals. "What I did not love at first, I learned to love." She looks at me, her dark eyes piercing mine. "Can you learn to love all of Milo, Kiara? If you can, then there is hope. But if you cannot, then please leave, do not hurt my child. Do not hurt my baby."

"I don't want to leave," I admit in a low hum, nibbling on my bottom lip. "But I also don't know how to forgive him. It's only been a few days; I can't just forget what happened. I want to, Antonia, but I can't."

"Kiara…” She takes my hand in hers and strokes my fingers. "If you do not want to leave, this shows to me that you already have forgiven him." Her tender grip tightens. "Perhaps, it is no longer my son that you need to forgive but yourself."

I frown, not following her logic. "For what?"

"For letting yourself get hurt," she explains, her gentle touch reminding me of my nana's. "When we open our hearts, we allow pain to enter, and when it does, we tell ourselves never again. I have been where you are, Kiara. I have felt the same pain as you are feeling now but pain is a part of life, a part of love. Forgive yourself for loving him and the pain will go away."

Is she right? Am I angrier with myself than with Milo? I knew the kind of man he was, I knew his profession, his morals. I knew that he would hurt me. He told me that he'd hurt me. But I didn't listen. I didn't care. I still don't care. I want him. I want him so bad. I want all of him. I do. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the fucking beautiful. And there's so much beauty.

It's blinding.

"I don't think my heart can handle any more pain. It's at its capacity."

Antonia places her palm on my cheek. "Then let your heart be full of love. It will drive away all the pain. As a mother there is nothing I want more than for my children to love and to be loved."

That's what everyone wants.

"I don't know how to love him." Impending tears tickle my nose as I sniffle. "He's not a normal man. This isn't a normal family."

"And you are clearly not a normal woman," she says, tilting her head. "You are special, I can see fire in your eyes. I had the same fire, Kiara. That fire is what will keep you warm even on the coldest nights." She lets go of my hand and removes the emerald necklace around her neck, placing it in my palm. "I believe your fire will be of great benefit to my family."

I squeeze my hand shut, glancing down at my nana's necklace. I'm not ready to take it off. To trade one life for another. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"My husband's mother gave me that necklace before I got married. It was her blessing, as it is mine."

"I haven't said yes. I don't?—"

"Perhaps you have not verbally agreed, but in your heart, you know the truth."

"Antonia, I?—"

"Mamma!" Natalia screams, tiny thumping footsteps in the distance. "Mamma! I want to go play outside! Come! Play! Play!"

"Natalia!" Julia's groggy voice thunders through the walls. "It is so early! Why do you hate me?! My only child hates me!"

"Mamma, please!" Natalia begs. "Outside! Outside!"

Julia and her daughter round the corner, stopping outside the library. "Help me," Julia whimpers, rubbing her eyes and tightening her robe. "I gave birth to a demon. She does not sleep."

"Julia!" Antonia hisses, standing up. She tosses me one last knowing glance before she berates her child. "Go play with Natalia! Dio, sei pigro! You have not seen her in weeks!"

"But Mamma," Julia whines. "I need coffee first and I need to shower and I?—"

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