Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Ready to go?” he asked quietly.
It burst out of me when I replied through a hitching cry, “Yeah.”
My husband didn’t smile openly, but his eyes did. Like a baby koala, he carried me as he walked. I rested my head on his shoulder, indulgently, as he brought me around to the passenger seat of the car. I allowed him to lower me to the ground and help me in. He buckled me up, closed the door and returned to the driver’s side. He slipped inside, started the car and backed out of the driveway.
And I took one last look at my prison.
Marco stood on the porch, with his arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit the badass. But I could have sworn there was a whisper of a smile on his lips.
When I lifted my hand in lazy wave, he returned it.
And with a final glance, a thought crossed my mind. Although the house was beautiful, I vowed right then that I would die before I ever came back to Northport.
Chapter 17
An entire bowl of bullshit
Ettore
I had to admit that watching Vittoria being stared down by my twelve-year-old daughter as they sat on opposite ends of the table was rather entertaining. The boys had sat down long enough to re-introduce themselves to their step-mother, and then they were out. But Ella… Ella wanted Vittoria to suffer. And she started by asking a cold, “Where are your shoes?”
From my place behind the kitchen island, I let them hash it out.
Vittoria looked down at her bare feet and answered through a small laugh. “I was in a hurry. I guess I left them behind.”
And Ella nodded curtly. “Right. I just thought by the way you were dressed that you could afford any.”
Oof.
Vittoria glanced back at me with wide, blinking eyes and Ella’s barely-there smirk told me she’d achieved exactly what she meant to.
My daughter was not going to make this process fun, but until things got extreme, I decided to sit back and refrain from intervening. After all, I wasn’t the only one with trust issues. It would take more than her dad bringing home his young wife for Ella to trust again.
She was justifiably cautious.
I had a sneaking suspicion that Ella would have been difficult regardless of the unfortunate events of that day, all those months ago. She was loyal to a fault, and Ella loved her mother more than words could describe. The level faithfulness meant that Ella wouldn’t dare give in so quickly because she felt it was disrespectful to her mom.
That evening, I called the family and when they arrived to see Vittoria standing nervously to greet them, the range of reactions was wide.
Giada looked at her with a gasp, then she looked back at me, then back at Vittoria. And then, she flew forward to wrap her arms around Tori. From my wife’s surprised laugh and returning, clutching hug, it was clear they were as happy as the other.
Meanwhile, dad came in and greeted his grandkids with kisses and hugs and money slipped into their pockets when he thought I wasn’t looking. And when he drew Ella into a hug, he looked down at her, patted her cheek and asked, “How are you, sweetheart? You eaten?”
Ella replied with a sweet smile. “I have eaten.” That sweet smile turned caustic when she turned it on me. “An entire bowl of bullshit.” She walked away in a way that was so much like her mother, my heart ached.
Pops stared at her retreating form and said, “That kid… she’s got a mouth on her. Wonder where she gets it?” But after a moment, he narrowed his eyes on me and asked carefully, “What did you do?”
Vittoria spoke up from the open doorway. “I don’t think it’s him as much as it’s me.” My father spun to look at her. His brows rose slowly and she smiled in that honey sweet way that always had my breath catching. “Hi, papa Nunzio.”
My father clicked his tongue, shook his head and put his hands to his hips. “I should’a known.”
So much Italian drama packed into one small man.
He didn’t go to her. Instead, he held out his hands and it was a kick to the gut when she rushed over to be held by a father again, even if it wasn’t her own. My dad held her hands, squeezing tight, as he didn’t hesitate to tell her, “He’s been a goddamn bear for months. Four days ago, he smiles and I wonder what changed.” He threw me an intentional look that called me a sneaky asshole. “Now I know.”
I would have called him out if he hadn’t been right, and when he embraced Vittoria in a fatherly manner, kissing her forehead and welcoming her home, an enormous weight lifted off of my shoulders. For a moment, it hovered, but the lightness didn’t last long. It transferred to the pit of my stomach when I saw Vittoria’s eyes close and her lips tremble.