Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
After living in peace for so long, it feels strange to be back in this world, where violence is a viable means of resolving problems, and constant surveillance is the obvious solution to distrust.
But I don’t care. I’m going to see my baby.
Matteo
I huff a sigh of relief when I open the door to find Jack exactly where my dad said he’d be, sleeping like his phone screen showed us he’d be.
To be honest, I had my doubts. My dad didn’t know Jack was his grandson, after all. That said, as much of a monster as he is, he spoke the truth. He has never hurt kids—at least not kids who weren’t his own.
I kept my worries under wraps for Grace. She was so tightly strung the whole time we were in his office that I was worried she’d snap.
“Oh, baby. Jack, honey. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Grace rests her hands on the safety rails around the crib, slouching over the side to look at Jack’s sleeping face.
Cool moonlight streams in through the window as Grace lifts up Jack’s little shirt, checking his body for wounds. I gingerly place my arm on Grace’s back and inwardly shout for joy when she doesn’t tell me to back off.
“He’s not hurt.” Grace sounds like a massive weight has been lifted off her shoulders.
“He looks so peaceful,” I remark.
Grace smiles as she looks lovingly on our son. “Yeah. You wouldn’t think he’d just been kidnapped by looking at him.”
A chuckle bubbles up from my stomach and slips out from my mouth. Grace joins me, giggling as she covers her lips with both hands, struggling to keep it quiet.
“Shhh . . . We can’t wake him up,” she says, her shoulders shaking.
“Yeah. He’s had a long flight.”
I don’t know if it’s plain old relief or if the ridiculousness of the situation has finally caught up with us. But every time our eyes meet, we collapse into fits of laughter, the kind that leaves us gasping for breath.
“Mom?” Jack’s voice is almost a whisper, but it’s enough to demand our full attention.
“Hey, you,” Grace says gently. “Did you have fun today?”
Jack mumbles an incoherent answer and smiles, his tired eyes fluttering shut again. The sight fills my chest with warmth that spreads throughout my body. So this is what it feels like to be a father.
Grace puts a tender hand on Jack’s forehead and moves stray hair off his face. Then, she straightens her spine, she stiffly takes a step away from me. She motions at the bed next to the crib. “I’ll sleep here.”
That look again. The euphoria of having found Jack safe and sound has passed. Now that she’s gotten ahold of her mind, she puts her guard back up. Her face is a mask of indifference, her inner thoughts a mystery.
I wish I could spend the night here in this guest bedroom with my little family. But Grace doesn’t want me here—that much I know.
“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
If she needs space, I’ll give it to her. But I’m not letting her go again. Never.
Now that we’re back home, I can clearly see how well we can all fit together, how happy we can be. No matter what it costs, Grace and Jack are staying.
I slip out of the room and traverse the large house, my legs taking me to the bedroom I used to sleep in as a boy. Lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling, my mind busy with fantasies of having my family for good and schemes to make them a reality.
Tomorrow morning, I know my dad will want to see me. After that, I suppose we’ll have to hold a meeting with the Espositos.
How will they react to finding out Grace is alive? I don’t doubt that Grace was telling the truth about not having any contact with her family. Will they be angry? Happy? Will they feel like she betrayed them?
No matter what, Grace will always have a place to come home to. She belongs right by my side.
Grace
“You!” My dad marches toward me, red-faced and fiery-eyed, pointing an accusing finger at me. I flinch, pressing my back against the back of the couch, but he doesn’t slow down. “You killed your own brother. You know that?’
“Marco,” my mom’s voice echoes in the Guerrieros’ living room, gently chiding my dad. “We agreed that you’d at least try to keep an open mind.”
A pretty woman pulls open the door to Enzo Guerriero’s office and announces to the room that her boss has been waiting for my dad.
With a last warning glare, my dad turns his back and enters Enzo’s office. The well-dressed secretary shoots me a sympathetic smile. Too bad she wasn’t around last night; she would’ve made me feel more at ease.
“Grace.” My mom drops herself onto the couch next to me, then pulls me into a hug, cutting my line of sight to my dad. Putting her hands on the back of my head, she strokes my hair.