Page 105 of Luca
“Geez, you two are so paranoid.”
“I’ll make sure to use those words when you’re parents,” Luca said. “Now, back to my clever wife’s suggestion.”
“What suggestion?” they both asked at the same time.
“Margaret suggested we put tracking devices on all our shipments,” Nonno explained. “It would allow us to track the stolen shipment to the culprit.”
The twins’ gazes flicked my way. “Wow, I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“You two are jackasses,” I snapped and softly smacked Tyran’s hand as he reached for a cookie. “After dinner.”
Nonno observed amused.
“I’ll have to work up the right kind of technology,” Luca pondered as he cradled the baby in his arms. Aiden kept trying to take the baby. Unsuccessfully. “Untraceable ones. It might take me a few weeks to come up with something.”
“That’s a great idea,” Aiden agreed. “Can you start on it now, and I’ll hold my niece as you figure it out?”
“That might take a few months,” Kyran noted. “I doubt DiMauro would allow you to take that baby out of this place.”
Luca pulled a face.
“That is a correct assumption,” he retorted wryly, but he ended up passing a sleeping Penelope to her uncle.
She appeared even smaller in her daddy’s or uncle’s arms.
The oven timer went off and I went to retrieve the second pie out of the oven. My brothers, husband, and Nonno went on to discuss how to make it happen and other business dealings. I tuned in and out of their conversation.
But all the while a soft smile played on my lips. The feeling in my chest was heavy and consuming, but it felt right. It felt good. We had developed a routine. I’d spend my days taking care of my little Penelope, getting Luca’s suits to the dry cleaners and picking them up, making dinner and waiting for him to come home.
He was always home before dinner.
The baby would sleep in her favorite cradle, while we’d go over our day. We could hardly imagine our life before her. At night, Luca insisted on taking care of her. He’d jump out of bed at her first squeal and before it’d even register through my sleeping brain. Luca would expertly change her diaper as he whispered soft Italian words to her and then he’d feed her while rocking her back and forth.
All of us moved to the dining room and took our seats. As my eyes darted around our Thanksgiving table, I couldn’t have been more grateful for our family.
Luca’s and my eyes met. He winked, his lips curved into a soft smile. God, the way he watched me promised years of happiness ahead of us. This was our second chance since I blew my first one when I shot him. I was sorry for it, although it took some years to get to the sorrow part.
If there was a happily ever after, this felt peculiarly close to it.
ChapterThirty-Nine
LUCA
Nonno saved a boy, but it was Margaret and our little girl who saved the man.
I never thought it possible to love a tiny human being so much. Yet, as I rocked my daughter back and forth in the rocking chair, surrounded by pink everywhere I looked, it was the closest to heaven I had ever felt.
It was Christmas Eve and I fed Penelope a bottle. She was a colicky baby, waking up multiple times at night. I always got up to soothe her, sometimes to feed her, and I held her until she fell back asleep. It took a lot of convincing but Margaret finally saw the logic in me doing it. She had her all day. I had her at night.
The soft noises she made as I fed her the bottle, her eyes open and trusting on me, had my chest grow full.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Penelope,” I whispered in a soft voice. “Not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse. We have to hurry up and finish the bottle, burp, then go to sleep. St. Nick is coming with gifts.”
A soft chuckle came from the door and Penelope’s head turned towards the sound.
Margaret leaned against the doorframe of our daughter’s room, dressed in her little silky nightgown, her stomach bump non-existent.
It has been almost two months since she gave birth. I’d never admit it, but it fucking scared me. When I saw blood trickling down her legs, the panic at the possible loss of the baby, and maybe her, almost unraveled me. The doctors assured me that those kinds of complications weren’t so unusual, but as they cut my wife open, fear was like acid on my tongue.
