Page 50 of The Devil's Demise

I finally take a bite of the food. “The roast beef is wonderful, Emma.” I give her a smile.

“Thank you.” Her mouth thins and her face lights up. Her attention then wanders to Noah. “Use a napkin, not your sleeve, please,” she quietly scolds my half brother. He rolls his eyes at me with a small grin while I let out a quiet laugh.

“I saw that,” Emma teases us, shaking her head, her eyes gleaming with joy. I can see why my dad married her. She’s kind, a genuinely good person. She welcomed me into her family like it was nothing.

My father and I missed out on a lot. All the memories we could’ve made. But I won’t take the present for granted. It’s what we have. And if we don’t stop and appreciate it, we’ll miss out on living. Because nothing is guaranteed—not the seconds, not the minutes, and definitely not the days.

Once dinner is over, I help them clean up, washing dishes as Noah dries them. Emma brings out chocolate cake while Dad places a freshly made apple pie on the table.

Drying my hands, I get set to join them but, on the way, I stop in the hallway filled with photos of them. Except now, there are photos of me and Matteo too. Some are from the wedding, some from the ones we took during our honeymoon on the island. But my favorite one is of Dad and me, him walking me down the aisle, stopping right before I meet Matteo. His hands, they hold my face, tears in his eyes as he gazes at me. My palm rests over the center of my chest. I feel those emotions as though they’re happening all over again.

“I love that one too.” Dad suddenly appears.

Wiping a tear from under my eye, I look to him, the kindness sprinkled all over his face. What would my life be like if we hadn’t been kidnapped? If I grew up being raised by a man such as him? I’ll never know that, but yet I dream of it. I close my eyes and I imagine it all, and it hits me in this moment. The aching of my soul. My heart as though sliced open. It should’ve been me in this house with him and Mom. We should’ve had a life together.

“Oh, Daddy,” I cry, flinging my arms around him as I let the pain take me away. I find comfort within the arms of a man I never got to love, loving him now, in these fleeting moments.

CHAPTER3

MATTEO

TWO YEARS LATER

She lies in my lap,her head tucked over my thighs as she stares up at me in our little paradise. We’ve spent many days on this island, no longer dreaming it, but living it instead.

I place a palm over her growing stomach, our daughter inside. Only a few months until we get to meet her.

Our baby, she will be loved. She will be protected. I can’t wait to be a father. I will live my life for her. I will ensure she only sees the good parts of this world as long as I can.

I don’t ever want her to find out what happened to her mother and me. Cruelty like that isn’t for children. There’s already too much broken in the world. I don’t want to burden her with our story, or more like our hell.

I know Aida worries about that—if she were to find out. She’s afraid of what she’ll think, but I’d like to think she’ll realize how strong her parents truly are.

“Are we going fishing later?” Aida asks, lifting her hand up, cupping the stubble riding up my jaw.

“If that’s what you want, we can. We can do anything, baby.”

She sighs, her lips twining up at me and my heart beats for her. “The world, it smells beautiful, doesn’t it?” She inhales, her lashes fluttering to a close.

“Nothing is as beautiful as you.” I bend my face to hers, our lips meeting in quiet passion.

She leans deeper, angling her face, and I feel it, that love we share. It’s everywhere. In the sun. In the sky. In the song that the birds sing high above.

It’s a wonder where one can find love when they look for it. And in Aida, I find it all.

* * *

AIDA

FOUR MONTHS LATER

How can someone be so small? I stare into my daughter’s face, Cecilia Alison Cavaleri. She was born a few days ago at only six pounds and nineteen inches. A tiny doll with the puffiest cheeks we can’t seem to stop kissing.

Our living room is filled with voices, all of them wanting turns to hold the newest member of the family. I get up, placing her in my father’s arms as his eyes gleam with tears.

“I’m your grandpa, kiddo.” He blinks rapidly, unable to hold back his emotions. “She looks like you when you were born, sweetheart.” He chokes up. “You had the same cheeks, and you were just as tiny.” He laughs, our eyes meeting. “I was afraid to hold you. That’s how small you were.”

I take a seat beside him, my head on his shoulder as we stare at her, a family, all of us in this room.

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