“He didn’t hurt Mom?”
“No,” I whispered. It was the truth and a lie. A lie that would help our family heal. Some lies we told others to protect them or ourselves; others we told ourselves for the same reason. Today’s lie was a bit of everything.
“You?”
“He doesn’t hurt me either.”
Simona crawled toward the tree and made a move as if to drag herself to her feet with a branch. I jumped to my feet and quickly snatched her away then carried her over to Daniele. “Will you keep watch over her?”
He nodded, and I put her in his lap. He hugged her to his body, and she seemed content for the moment. “You see,” I said softly. “You want to protect Simona, and I want to protect you, and your dad wants to protect all of us.”
After I was done decorating, the kids and I went into my paint room. As had been our routine over the last couple of weeks, both children got brushes, watercolors, and paper so they could entertain themselves while I finished the painting I’d started for Cassio. It was almost done. I wasn’t quite happy with the spray on the waves rolling onto the beach. They needed to appear more vivid. I wanted Cassio to smell the ocean air and feel the refreshing breeze when he saw it. He had a photo of the exact same view in our bedroom, but I hoped he’d love a canvas.
Loulou sniffed at the door, but she kept running over the paper and through the paint pots, spreading colorful pawprints everywhere, so she wasn’t allowed inside anymore.
Daniele dragged the brush over the sheet, creating blue lines, as if he, too, was painting the ocean.
I put down my brush and walked over to him. He didn’t look up as I sank down beside him. Simona hit the floor with her own paintbrush over and over again, splattering paint everywhere. My overalls and bare feet were already covered in a myriad of colors. Daniele had returned to his quiet self after our conversation this morning, pondering what I said. I wished I could glimpse into his head.
“Your dad would love a painting of the ocean for Christmas. Why don’t you give it to him?”
Daniele dipped the brush into the blue paint and continued drawing jerky lines. “Okay,” was his soft reply.
“Nothing would make your dad happier than spending time with you and hearing your voice again.”
Kissing Daniele’s temple, I rose to my feet and returned to my canvas.
We hosted Christmas Eve dinner for the family. Luckily, Sybil cooked most of the feast. Even Ilaria and her husband came over with their kids. Mia was still heavily pregnant. I had a feeling she’d get a Christmas baby, and I could tell that she desperately wanted to give birth. Mia’s and Ilaria’s kids were more boisterous than Daniele, but they got along well, despite Daniele’s selective muteness. When we settled at the table for dinner, one topic was definitely off-limits: Gaia. I didn’t mind. Too much of her presence still lingered within these walls.
Mansueto watched Cassio and me like a hawk. He was obviously protective of his son. “When are you going to bless us with another grandchild?”
I choked on a piece of roasted asparagus.
Daniele looked between his dad and me. I wasn’t sure if he understood. At least, Simona was busy squishing baby carrots in her hands.
“I’m blessing you with a grandchild any day now,” Mia said pointedly, patting her round belly.
Mansueto waved her off. “And I’m delighted about your son, but what about you, Cassio?”
Cassio set down his fork and knife slowly. A vein throbbed in his throat. I touched his leg under the table. I didn’t want a fight at Christmas dinner. “I have two small children. That’s enough.”
“You should keep your young wife in mind.”
This wasn’t about me. Maybe Mansueto worried that Andrea was indeed the father, not Cassio. Continuing the bloodline was something deeply ingrained in every mafia man, so it was astonishing that Cassio hadn’t done a paternity test the moment he’d found Gaia dead.
“I’m happy with what we have,” I said quickly.
Cassio touched my hand, gratefulness flashing in his eyes.
“Now, but what about in a few years?”
“Father,” Cassio said sharply. “That’s none of your business.”
Mia turned to me. “I hear you paint?”
I could have hugged her and gladly took her up on the topic change, even if Mansueto obviously wasn’t going to drop the topic anytime soon.
It was difficult to suppress my annoyance during dinner, so I was relieved when everyone left eventually. Father kept nagging me to take a paternity test. This was another subtle hint that I might not have an heir yet. After I’d brought Simona to bed, I found Giulia in the doorway to Daniele’s room. “Daniele wants to be tucked in by you tonight.”