Page 90 of Pietro
"I know. But your body needs fuel even when your heart is broken."
She leads me through the house, past the formal living room with its silk-covered furniture, past the study where Pietro makes his dark decisions. The kitchen is warm and smells of garlic and basil and home, even at this late hour.
"Sit." She points to a stool at the massive island.
I obey because it's easier than arguing. She moves around the kitchen with practiced efficiency, heating something on the stove, slicing bread. The smell of garlic and basil is so normal it makes my head spin.
"Your mother..." Giulia’s voice is thick. She keeps her back to me, her hands busy at the stove. "Siobhan was... she was my only real friend. I miss her every day."
She sets a bowl of soup in front of me. Minestrone, thick with vegetables and beans. The steam rises, carrying scents that remind me of being young and safe.
"She would have hated this. She wanted to protect you from all of this. From families like ours." Giulia sits across from me, her weathered hands flat on the marble counter.
"Families like ours." I stir the soup without eating. "I don't even know what family I belong to anymore."
"You belong to yourself first." Giulia reaches across the counter but stops short of touching me. "That's what Siobhan would say. That's what she learned too late."
My mother's name in Giulia's mouth makes my chest ache. This woman knew her, really knew her, in ways I never did. The questions pile up in my throat, but I can't voice them. Not yet.
"Pietro is a good man." Giulia says it like a prayer. "He's been broken by loss, hardened by necessity, but underneath he's still the boy who used to help me in this kitchen, who cried when his goldfish died."
"He doesn't trust me now."
"He doesn't trust himself. There's a difference." She stands, moving to a cabinet. "He cares for you. I've known him since he was a newborn."
"That was before he knew I came here through lies."
"You didn't lie. You were placed here by people trying to protect you." She returns with a glass of amber liquid. "Whiskey. It'll help you sleep."
I take a sip. It burns. Not as much as my heart burns from breaking to pieces.
"Finn loved your mother desperately." Giulia's voice drops to almost a whisper. "And she loved him. But she loved you more. Everything she did, every choice she made, was to keep you safe and whole."
"She stayed with a man she didn't love. For me."
"She stayed with a man who threatened to take you away. Don’t take blame on you Nora. You’re the only one in this story that cannot be blamed."
The whiskey spreads warmth through my belly, but it doesn't touch the cold that's settled in my bones.
"Where will I sleep?"
"The blue guest room. Same as before."
I don’t respond. I know I won’t sleep.
"Come. You need rest."
She leads me up the stairs, down the hallway. The blue guest room is exactly as I left it. Elegant and impersonal. My suitcase sits on the bench at the foot of the bed, my laptop bag beside it.
"There are fresh towels in the bathroom. The house phone connects directly to my room if you need anything."
She pauses at the door, her hand on the frame.
"Giulia?"
She turns back.
"Did my mother ever regret it? Staying?"
