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WHEN I ENTER THE PENTHOUSE, Luca’s sitting at the far end of the new couch with Milana sleeping beside him on the cushion and Noah draped over his lap. His thick, dark hair topples over his forehead as he glances down. He has nail clippers in one hand and Noah’s tiny finger in the other, clipping Noah’s nails as he snoozes. The way he gently checks Noah’s fingers has my desire for Luca beating in my veins. How I’ve ached to have his caring side of him back. He appears utterly at ease as he glances up.

I place my bag on the oak coffee table, noticing a sleek black leather menu.

“What’s this?” I pick it up and flip it open.

“It’s the menu for the restaurant. I wanted to show you,” he explains, setting Noah on the couch and covering him with his blue blanket.

“It’s chic.” I run my fingers over the leather, reading the maroon lettering of a high-end Italian menu that’s clearly been carefully selected by the chef with seasonal ingredients. Then I note the prices and tease, “Who can afford to eat here?”

Amusement twists his sensual mouth. “The rich and famous.” Shrugging, he slips down the hallway as I shed my wool coat and notice that the living room has a lot of empty space now that the couch is L-shaped instead of U-shaped. Maybe I should bring the dinner table forward and put a large bookcase against the wall in here. I have to relocate the library when the kids are bigger anyway because they’ll need that room, which already has two bathrooms. As I mull this over, Luca returns, wearing only his grey sweats that hang low on his hips and showing off his toned chest.

I tilt my head as he approaches me. “Can you put on a shirt?”

“No,” he replies, stopping in front of me and pressing a brief kiss to my lips – our only physical contact in five days.

It sends electricity pulsing through me. In this second, I realize how much I long for him. Yet he doesn’t push and cleverly retreats to sit on the couch, lifting Milana to hold her against his chest, her head against his shoulder.

Since he’s clearly staying in, I make us some tea and coffee before turning on the TV, and after the twins wake up, we play with them while we lounge on our new couch.

“Did you see the link I texted you?” Luca asks suddenly.

“I did. So you gave Rudd the scandal he so badly wanted to avoid.”

“I did that for you. I didn’t kill him, but I ruined his career so that he can suffer.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Rudd should’ve feared you,” Luca teases, and I nudge him with my shoulder playfully.

Somehow, he’s managed to dispel my resentment and is winning back my trust, because when I doze off on the couch, I jerk awake when hear him calling, “Dolcezza?”

I squint open my eyes and feel myself being picked up. “What are you doing?”

“You belong”—he pauses, the words dangling on his tongue—“in my bed.”

I smile and loop my arms around Luca’s neck, breathing in his fresh scent while he carries me effortlessly to the master suite.

There, he lays me down, gently smoothing my bangs from my face and whispering, “Sleep,” before he pulls the blankets up, and I tumble into dreamland.

***

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I wake up lying on my side in bed alone with the sunlight pouring through the windows to bask me in its golden warmth. I realize that I slept through the night, so Luca must have done the feedings himself. Moreover, he’s respected my wishes and slept on the couch again. This is the man I married and fell in love with.

At that moment, Luca enters the room, his lips quirking up. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

“Morning. What time is it?”

“Eight. The kids are in the cribs and have eaten. I’m just visiting the warehouse with Adriano and then I’ll come home.”

“Okay,” I say as he bends down to kiss me, firmly slanting his mouth over mine.

I welcome the kiss, but eventually, he pulls back, his clean-shaven face much more stress-free than in recent weeks, before he leaves the room.

All of a sudden, my phone vibrates on the nightstand, so I grab it and swipe open a text.

Cam: I’m going to visit the restaurant to see the kitchen. Want to come? I’m going at noon.

Fallon: Sure. I’ll call the babysitter and meet you there.

Cam: Okay

***

THE FRONT ENTRANCE of what used to be Club 7 is unrecognizable. It now has large black double doors with shiny metal handles that run vertically from the top to the bottom. Opening them, I step inside a warzone of drilling, dust, and equipment strewn around. Hurriedly, I cross the space toward the bar where the door to the kitchen is located and push through it. I see Cam’s bob haircut and Brielle’s wavy blonde hair as they stand with their backs to me and then turn around.

“Hey!” they greet, strolling forward to me as I meet them halfway in the spotless, stainless steel kitchen.

“And this is my domain. Where the desserts are made,” Brielle says to Cam as we stand at the long, shiny counter where she sets a dessert that she takes from the shelf beneath it.

“Wow, that’s beautiful.” I inspect the black plate with a dollop of mascarpone cream that’s shaped like a rose, a square piece of espresso-soaked white cake, and cocoa powder sprinkled over the top. “What is it?”

“It’s a deconstructed tiramisu.”

“I saw the menu, but I didn’t see the desserts,” I inform her, and she grunts, shifting over to two stacks of the leather menus.

“You probably saw this one. Where they forgot the desserts. The dessert menu isn’t supposed to be a separate menu, so we’ve had them reprinted.” Then she takes two from the other stack to hand them over.

I peruse the desserts and stop at the third one at the same time as Cam. Our gazes whip to one another.

“Did you know this?” Cam asks, amused.

“Oh, shit!” Brielle pipes in, shutting my menu with both hands while I smile. “I don’t think you were supposed to see it.”

“Probably not. But tell me, did Luca do this?” I inquire since one of the desserts is named Dolcezza and consists of a dark chocolate cake with a candied orange slice.

Brielle worries her lip. “Well, the surprise is out anyway. I thought you already knew something when I misspoke at the closing down party. I said we worked on your cake and then I covered it up by saying I wanted cake,” she puts in sheepishly, making Cam and me chuckle loudly.

“I didn’t notice.” I was too distracted that day.

“But yeah, Luca did this. He was in here for two days to taste my chocolate cake until it was perfectly infused with dark chocolate. He told me it would be named dolcezza because his wife loves dark chocolate. And I swear he said that you’re too good for him; he was a little melancholic.”

My heart skips a beat. Even when he pulled away, he thought mainly of me.

“Oh my god. That’s so sweet,” Cam muses. “Why didn’t Adriano do that?”

Brielle’s grin grows wider. “Are you jealous?”

“A little bit,” Cam answers jokingly.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say to Brielle, the urge to leave exploding inside me. “Can I have that menu? I want to surprise Luca.”

“Sure.” She hands the menu back and I throw it in my purse. “I’m going home.”

Cam’s lips quirk up before I slip out.

God help me because Luca’s the most distracting and unreadable man I’ve ever met. Why didn’t he tell me about this? I’m finally sensing that my old Luca is back, which brings sweet joy to my soul that’s permanently connected to his.