Page 121 of Of Lies and Shadows

She nods, the barest movement, and places her hand gently over her stomach. “Two months.”

I stare at her. My Francesca. My firestorm of a wife. Shot. Broken. Healing. And now carrying life.

I exhale a sound that’s almost a laugh, almost a sob, and lean forward, burying my face in her lap like a man praying to a god he never believed in.

“Dio, grazie.” My hands tremble as I wrap them around her waist. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

She brushes her fingers through my hair. “You deservethis, Dante. You always did. You just had to learn how to want it.”

I look up at her, my eyes burning. “I’ll build you palaces. Carve your name in gold. I’ll never raise my voice again, never?—”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she says, laughing softly. “You’re still you. I’m not asking for perfection.”

“What are you asking for, then?”

She cups my cheek. “Stay. Fight for joy like you fought for vengeance. And don’t you dare try to divorce me again.”

I laugh. I cry. I crush her to me and press a kiss to her belly like a vow etched in skin.

“I won’t,” I swear, my voice wrecked. “Not even if you ask me to.”

She smiles again, radiant and wicked. “Good. Because the next time you serve me papers, I’ll burn them in front of you and maybe your favorite suit.”

“I like this version of you.”

“I am your version of me.”

We make it home before the sun dips too low, and the second the front door opens, chaos erupts in the most beautiful way.

“Mama, Papa! Come play. We need another pirate!” Lucia shouts, skidding into the room in her socks, arms already flinging around my waist.

I stagger back dramatically. “You’ve caught me, Captain!” I grin, scooping her up with ease as she squeals.

Francesca laughs beside me, her eyes shining with something deeper than amusement—it’s peace.

I glance at her over Lucia’s curls. “Go change, amore. I’ll take this fight.”

She lifts her brows. “You sure?”

I lean in and murmur low against her ear, “You’ll owe me.”

Her breath catches, and she disappears upstairs with a sly little smile on her lips.

Lucia insists I wear a blanket cape and a paper crown. Alessio pokes at me with a plastic sword like I’ve offended the Royal Navy. I play along because this? This is everything I ever wanted and didn’t know I was allowed to have.

By the time I finally slip away, I can’t wait to kiss my wife. The door to our bedroom is cracked open, and I push it with the back of my hand, stepping into the quiet.

Francesca’s just stepping out of the bathroom, her skin dewy from the shower, her hair damp around her shoulders. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts stretched over her thighs, the fabric clinging softly to the swell of her belly.

She turns at the sound of the door, and when our eyes meet, the world slows.

“You survived pirate duty,” she says, her voice teasing but warm.

“Barely,” I walk toward her. “You should’ve seen what they made me wear.”

She chuckles, and I reach for her, sliding my hands under the hem of the T-shirt until I’m cupping her bare hips. My thumbs move in slow circles over her skin. She steps closer until there’s no space left between us.

I lower my mouth to her shoulder and kiss the curve of it. “You smell like honey and soap.”

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