Page 134 of Broken

“You know you’re always welcome. I don’t think the kids would bear with being parted,” I say lightly, eyeing her over the glass in my hand.

When Di sags into the wall, I have my answer, but she asks, “Really?”

“Of course.”

“Immigration though?—”

“What’s money for if it won’t work for your family?” I shrug. “We’ll figure it out. You should be with the people who love you, Diana. There’s always a place for you with us.”

She is, after all, one of the reasons I am on this path.

I saved her, but she saved me too.

It was Diana who convinced Savio I wasn’t just some lunatic from the States.

And as much as I love her and believe that she is my sister, I never forget that there is no Savio and Andrea without her.

Her arm tunnels around me as she draws me in for a hug. Though I return it, I murmur, “Maybe dump Big Dick Damian,though, hmm? Can’t imagine him being happy about you moving to France to live with the hippies of the town.”

The locals don’t know what to make of us. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ll have been accused of running a commune…

Her soft, watery chuckle echoes in my ear. “I dunno. I might keep him around. He’s good for orgasms if nothing else.”

I give her arm a quick squeeze. Aware, not for the first time, of the hand on my shoulder, steering me in the right direction.

I tilt my head up to the heavens and smile—ours might not be an orthodox path, and it certainly isn’t without tragedy, but it is one filled with love.

With our family all around, blended or otherwise, today is proof of that.

CHAPTER 47

Savio

TWO YEARS LATER

CÔTE D’AZUR, FRANCE

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been five weeks since my last confession to You.

These are my sins.

I may have taught my daughters how to aim for the hyoid bone if they’re being attacked and gave them pepper spray despite it being illegal in France.

Once again, I come to You with little to no shame in my heart for this, Father.

I’m certain You are annoyed with me for this, but I refuse to allow them to be statistics.

They’re my gift from You.

Surely You wish for them to be safe as well?

I never imagined having children, as we’ve often discussed, but just when I think I’ve adapted to being a father, they knock me off-kilter.

How do You do it, Father? And for so many?

I can barely cope with three, never mind Diana’s lot who are practically ours too.

Yes, I taught Lola the same defensive moves last year when she went to university. No, I didn’t repent because I was mad at You at the time. I don’t remember why now.

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