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The entire family gathered at Gabe and Macy’s new house not far from Nick’s in Maryland. Except for Isabelle, of course, because she was home resting and her mother had come out to visit. They’d hoped to include Nick’s wife and hold the meeting at Nick’s, but she was experiencing some discomfort today.

Gabe’s place wasn’t as big as Nick’s but Connor appreciated its rustic interior. They’d brought the outdoors inside with cedar ceilings throughout the downstairs, plank floors and warm, cozy furniture. Macy’s art—mostly landscapes—graced the walls.

The backyard looked out over a forever wild area. The adults were all in the dining area, including Maggie. The kids— Morgan and Melody, Simon and Ryan and Jamie—played outside on the gym Gabe and Nick had built. Also joining them was John Blackwell, Max’s father.

Whitney began. “So, here’s what we want.”

Connor knew Whit and Max had given a lot of thought to the mechanics. Though they didn’t care much about the ceremony, they wanted to make the event special for Mama and Pa. “We’d like just family and our closest friends to attend. Pa, we can invite your brothers from out west if you want.”

“Let me think about that one, honey.”

They’d made another concession. “Mama, we’re getting married in church. Max has been going to one down the street from us. It’s Catholic.”

“Thank you, agra. I know that is for me.”

“It’s for all of us,” Pa added.

“The adults will be up on the altar with us. Gabe, Dec, Nick and Connor you’ll be men of honor for us both. Mama, you’ll be my matron of honor. Pa, you’ll walk me down the aisle.” She turned to Maggie. “And you can be a bridesmaid.”

“Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

Max put in, “Dad, I want you as my best man.”

“I would love that, son.”

“We’d like the kids to feel special so we’re putting them in the choir loft on either side of us.”

“I’ll have a talk with them before about behaving.” This from Gabe, who all the boys seemed to listen to the best.

“What’s everybody wearing, Aunt Whitney?”

Connor was glad to see Maggie so animated. When Whitney asked him about including Maggie in the adult plans, he’d said he thought that would go a long way in making her happy.

Whitney focused on the teen. “I want something simple. I was hoping, Mags, that you and Mama could help me pick it out online before you go back.”

“What is this online?” Mama asked. “No bridal stores?”

Whitney rolled her eyes.

“I’m kidding, dear. Online is fine for your dress.”

“You and Maggie could go shopping and get something coordinated.”

Maggie said, “In pink?”

“Oh, God. Pink!” The girls loved to tease Whitney with girly things, like the pink walls and bed linens in her old room, and their suggestion that she get her nails painted pink when they went for manicures.

“I’m kidding, too, Aunt Whitney.”

“What about us guys?” Connor asked.

“No tuxes. You’ll wear suits.”

Mama was beaming. Connor was so grateful to his cousin it distracted him from his obsessive thoughts about Calla. And his longing for her to marry him.

“This sounds wonderful, doesn’t it, Tony?” his mother exclaimed.

Pa winked at Whitney. “Yes, Deirdre.”

“There’s one more thing,” Whitney added. “We asked President Manwaring to come to the wedding and reception.”

Maggie’s eyes bulged. “The president of the United States?”

“Yes, honey.” Nick ruffled her hair. “He’s Aunt Isabelle’s brother. She thinks he’ll attend. That’ll mean Secret Service, but hell, we’re used to them hanging around.”

Macy asked, “What about the reception?”

“We were hoping to have it outside.”

“Where?” Gabe’s wife wanted to know.

“That’s up to Gabe and Nick.” Whitney smiled, the one she’d used all her life to wheedle the guys into giving her anything she wanted.

“Oh, honey, I’d love to have it, since Isabelle couldn’t attend otherwise.” Nick seemed really pleased. “If it’s in our backyard then we can carry her out to the living room, or the yard, if the doc okays that.”

Gabe said, “Fine by me.”

Macy added, “Let’s have it catered. I can be in charge of the arrangements since I’ve had experience in the food industry. That way, no one has to do anything that day.”

“Caterers have to be vetted by the Service if Jim attends.”

Max shrugged. “That isn’t such a big deal.”

Macy scanned the group. “The president will do just about anything for all of you.”

Whitney eyed Declan. He hadn’t said a word about the plans. “Dec, is this all okay with you?”

“Sounds great. Thanks for including Mags.”

Connor knew Declan wasn’t okay, but now wasn’t the time to talk about it. He guessed something had happened last night when he met Lila for a drink. Connor intended to find out as soon as he had an opportunity.

“Are you done yet?” the boys called out from the back door which was open with screens.

Nick rose and went to the kitchen. “Yes, and no screaming in the house.”

“Us and the girls are hungry.”

“We have pizza coming.”

Maggie called out, “I’ll get them snacks, Uncle Nick, and entertain them till the food comes.”

“How sweet. Gabe?”

“Anything in the pantry is okay.”

She got up and circled the table. She gave Whitney a big hug. “Thanks for including me, Aunt Whitney. I like that I’ll be with the adults.”

“Well, you are one, almost. Next year you go to college. I love you, kid.”

“I love you, too.”

When she was gone, Declan shook his head. “I wish I got those declarations from her so easily.”

“Want to talk about all that now?” their mother asked.

“Nah, Mama. Let’s enjoy planning Max and Whitney’s wedding.” He winked at Connor. “Now about the bagpipes and brass band?”

Whitney grinned at him. He smiled back.

On the morning Calla’s father left to take Brie home in his private jet, Renata, Lexy and Calla dressed in their finest suits in a variety of colors: mauve for Renata, yellow for Lexy and Calla donned a muted red outfit. Matching hats completed their attire. They were attending an outdoor concert for the Casarina National Guard. Every year, the event raised money to further fund the educational programs that Renata had instituted, and the event was a must-go for the royal family.

In the car, all three women sat in the back seats. They hadn’t driven far when Lexy’s phone rang.

“Should I take it?” she asked. “I don’t want to bother you two.”

“Sure,” Calla arched a brow. “Maybe it’s a beau.”

“I don’t have a beau.” Her sister clicked on. “Hello... Yes, this is Alexandra Marcello.”

Renata cocked her head. Why would she use her middle name, though it was legal?

“Oh. Oh! Hello.” Lexy’s eyes went as round and shiny as a freshly minted coin. “Yes, I sent it six weeks ago.” A long pause. “Oh, you do? You do?” Calla could hear a man’s laughter on the other end. “Yes, yes, it hasn’t sold yet... Of course I know your house is large. Terms?” Now Lexy waited. “Oh, my God.” More laughter.

A longer explanation from the other end.

“Yes, I live a distance away, but I should be able to come. I’ll get back to you... Mr. Reynolds, thank you so much.”

When Lexy hung up, her hands were trembling.

Renata frowned. “Cara mia, you’re shaking, but you sounded happy. What was that all about?”

When she still didn’t answer, Calla’s asked, “Lexy, tell us.”

“Oh, my God. It’s wonderful.”

“Well,” her mother said dryly, “we all could use some upbeat news.”

“I...I...got a book offer.”

“A book?” her mother asked. “What kind of book?”

“One I wrote. And Ravenna illustrated. It’s for children.”

“Are you serious?” Her mother’s face flooded with joy. And pride. And much love.

“Yes. The editor wants me to come to New York for a discussion of terms. But Mamá, he mentioned six figures. I know money isn’t important to us, but that means they expect many people to buy my work.”

Mamá smiled broadly. “It’s wonderful that they value what you’ve written.”

Calla came to the edge of her seat. “You told me you never shared your writing with anyone and that it wasn’t very good.”

“I did with Ravenna so she could do the illustrations.”

“Honey,” Calla continued. “This is a big deal.”

“I know. I’m so happy...” Suddenly, she frowned. “Oh. I—I was going to stay here and help you with the baby. Well, I won’t be gone that long. But Ryder Reynolds asked me to come to New York soon. They’re anxious to make a deal.”

Her mother said, “They’ll want to preclude others from offering.”

“I didn’t send the manuscript anywhere else but to Random-Reynolds Publishing.”

“Hmm. We’ll have to talk to someone about this. Get you an agent.” Calla made the suggestion.

Renata said, “Alexandra, there are publishers in Casarina. Or at least in Italy. Why did you not go there? We could have helped.”

“I didn’t want help. I wanted to do this on my own. Anyone in Italy will know the Gentileschi name and probably yours, Mamá. Marcello is more common in America. And besides it’s my legal name, too.”

Their mother said excitedly, “We’ll have to celebrate tonight and make plans.”

“All right. I can’t hardly believe it.”

“My sister.”

“My baby.”

“My life!” Lexy said. “Oh, God.”

Calla’s mother never looked more regal than when she stood on the stage to introduce the Casarina National Guard band and thank the crowded audience. She stood tall with her dark hair flowing around her shoulders and down her back. She regarded the audience. “Thank you all for coming to support The Marcello Schools. As you know, we’ve educated thousands of young women and men from all around the world. Though the state of Casarina supports our efforts, your contributions today will go toward a trip the senior students are planning to the United States. And now, here is our National Guard band.”

Renata led the clapping as twenty-five men and women walked on stage. They were dressed in Casarina’s colors: the soft blues and greens of the sea surrounding them. The event had been planned close to the waters of the Mediterranean. Calla tried to enjoy the breezes and warm sunshine, and the scent of salt but her heart still hurt because she missed Connor. Even more now that she was carrying his child.

She wondered how he would fare in Casarina. If things were different, they’d spend time here and in the U.S. Once, they’d talked about what a life together would be like, but the notion was bittersweet because the fantasy could never be. So Calla was stuck, and she knew it.

The band began with a rousing rendition of the National Anthem of the country. Calla sang proudly. When was the last time she participated in the song? Too long ago, she decided.

It was when they went to sit down that she saw him. Them.

Lorenzo Bertocchi and his new bride, Katarina Affizzi, who sported a very round belly. Of all the things Calla expected if she ever saw him again, it wasn’t this. How long had the woman been pregnant? As a doctor, Calla could see that she was past her first trimester. Calla had left Casarina three months ago. Dear Lord in heaven, the woman had been pregnant while Lorenzo was still having sex with Calla, still hitting her. What kind of man was he?

Lexy followed the direction of her gaze. “Calla, oh my God.”

She took Lexy’s hand. “It’s all right. I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t, really. A tape was playing in her head...

You envy Lorenzo because he’ll share that pregnancy while you deprive Connor of his right to do the same.

You didn’t do anything to change Connor’s mind.

You left without a fight.

Depression swirled like a fog around her. But today, seeing her ex-husband, she pushed the feelings away. She wouldn’t succumb to negative emotions. It was time to pull herself out of the funk she was in. She wasn’t sure she could act yet, but she wouldn’t mourn what she didn’t have.

The two princesses were sitting in the front row. When the concert ended and the crowd dispersed, Calla turned to find Lorenzo and Katarina had come up to her and Lexy. Seriously?

“Hello, Princesses.” Lorenzo’s tone was smarmy. “I thought I might introduce you to my new wife.” Her rounded belly didn’t take away from the woman’s Helen-of-Troy beauty. Long blond hair that shone in the sun. Emerald green eyes. Svelte even in pregnancy.

Calla said graciously, “Hello, I’m Callandra, this is my sister Alexandra.”

“I’ve seen you from afar,” the woman told them. There was satisfaction on her face. Calla thought, What the hell, let her gloat. I’m rid of him.

And said a prayer that the woman was not being abused.

“Stand back, Bertocchi.” Her mother’s strong voice came from behind. “You are never, ever to approach the royal family again, capisci?”

Temper rose on Lorenzo’s face.

To the woman, Renata said, “I hope he treats you better than he did Callandra. But if you ever need help, come to the palace. We are here for you.”

With that, her mother hustled the girls away.

On the way to the car, Calla said, “Mamá! You were so controlled back there. Even though I knew you wanted to rip his face off.”

A sly smile. “I already did that once.”

“What do you mean?”

She explained her first meeting with Lorenzo and how she attacked him. Calla had noticed there were still light scars on his cheeks.

Lexy said, “I’m glad you were kind to the woman.”

“I can afford to be kind to her. But I will not allow Lorenzo Bertocchi to think he’s accepted by our family.”

Sighing, Calla sank back against the cushions of the car. She reminded herself she was not alone in all this and she should be grateful for what she had.

At six at night, Jim Manwaring stood when King Alessio Gentileschi entered the Aspen Lodge at Camp David. His friend was dressed like an ordinary person: beige slacks, navy polo shirt with loafers. Then again, Jim wore jeans. “Alessio, my friend, so glad to see you.”

Bypassing Jim’s hand, Alessio gave him a bear hug. “Thank you for arranging this.”

“It’s nothing.” He saw through the window the Secret Service agents talking with the royal guards. “They probably have a lot to say to each other.”

“As do I to you.”

“Would you like to get right to it?”

“Yes, over this.” He handed Jim a bottle of wine from the best vineyard in Casarina. “A case for you is being put in the car.”

“Thank you.” Jim poured the wine and they took their glasses outside. May was magical all over Washington and Maryland and the flowers and shrubs were in full bloom. Jim wished like hell he could use the place as a retreat more often.

He turned to Alessio. Out here, he noticed the man’s face was lined with stress. He hadn’t had an easy time of it in the last few years. “What can I do for you?”

“Two things. Now that you have your immigration problems solved—” Jim had done sweeping immigration reform in his first hundred days, one of his best pieces of legislation “—I’d like to suggest dual citizenship for first families of both our countries.”

Jim sipped the tart cabernet. “This is superb.” He set his glass down. “I think I can guess why you want that.”

“Of course you can. My girls are all here. Their visas expire when they’re thirty.”

“The time limit was set at your request, Alessio.”

“I know.” He shook his head. “How could I have been so blind, Jim? I never saw my restrictions could backfire.”

“Fathers often can’t see their children clearly. We want so much to protect them, especially the girls, though I worry like hell about my boy in college.”

Alessio still wore a frown. “In any case, I realize this arrangement benefits me more than you. But I’m prepared to offer anything you want in return.”

“Hmm.” He thought of how he’d played matchmaker for Nick and Gabe. Hell, what was one more time? “Perhaps if we include my extended family.”

Alessio raised a brow.

“Connor Marino is related to my sister and would become a legal citizen of Casarina.”

“I see you’ve deduced my real reason for coming here.”

Jim laughed. “What’s your plan?”

“Just this...”

“You’re a stupid son-of-a-bitch, you know that, Marino?”

Connor spoke the words aloud in the back of a car which resembled President Manwaring’s limousine. Alessio Gentileschi, the man who ruined his life, had sent the huge armored vehicle for him. With a missive:

To Dr. Connor Marino,

His Highness, King Alessio Gentileschi, requests the honor of your presence at Camp David at 10 a.m. today. It is of utmost importance he see you, and he believes you will want to hear what he has to say.

Thank you.

He’d gotten the note at Whitney’s condo two hours ago. She’d opened the door to find his people on her stoop...

“We are emissaries of Casarina. We have a document for Dr. Marino. We were told he is staying at this dwelling.”

“Um, yeah, he’s here.”

Connor came to the door. “I’m Dr. Marino. Is this about Calla?”

Instead of answering, the man who wore a suit much like the Secret Service’s attire handed him an envelope with a royal seal stamped over the fold. Connor recognized it as the Gentileschi family coat of arms. “We will await your answer in the vehicle.”

Connor realized his heart was beating a clip. Dear God in heaven, he wanted this to be from Calla, he wanted her to have made an overture, so badly it hurt.

But instead her father requested his presence. Demanding an audience. “Who the fuck does he think he is?” Connor said to Whitney after she read the note.

“A king.”

“I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. You’re miserable.”

“If this is about her, why didn’t she come herself?”

“You’re a dope, you know that. You told her not to return. You said you wouldn’t see her. And when she asked you to go with her you refused. Now shut up and go.” She arched a brow. “This is a hard line, Connor...” The childhood promise to let the other decide if someone was not acting in his own best interest.

So Connor had accepted. By the time he reached Camp David, he was no longer fuming. He was incredibly sad. He and Calla had come together here again, he thought as they drove down the streets.

All the streets along this route are named for trees. Why? Connor asked.

A small smile from Calla. Because the trees lining the area are hickory, walnut, sycamore and others.

Smarty pants.

He wallowed in the sweet memory.

At the Aspen Lodge he exited the car, and the men who’d come for him accompanied him to the door. Was he supposed to knock? Who the hell knew what the protocol was? The guards took the decision away from him. They knocked and opened the door.

Connor stepped inside and came face-to-face with the king. With Calla’s father. Funny, Connor didn’t know exactly what to expect, maybe someone larger than life, but he looked like an ordinary man. About Connor’s size, six feet, with olive skin and dark eyes. He was fit for fifty-seven. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Marino.” Ah, his voice was regal. In command.

“You can call me Connor, Your Highness.”

“And I am Alessio. Would you want something to drink? Coffee? I have made Callandra’s favorite.”

You’re drinking my coffee.

Yeah. I like it, even if it is black as night.

“Not now. I’d like to know why I’m here.”

“Right to the point. Then let’s sit.” They took a couch each, in front of the window which let in a light breeze. Connor was suddenly perspiring so the air helped with that. “I am here to get to know you, Connor.”

“Why?”

“I would appreciate you not dissembling. If I’ve learned one thing in this entire ordeal, it’s to tell the truth.”

“All right. You want to get to know me because I’m in love with Calla.”

“Yes. I’ve done you both a grave disservice and am trying to right the wrong I have committed.”

Connor’s fists curled. He remembered Calla before she left.

I love my father, Connor. I love you too. Please don’t make me choose.

I am asking that. Stay with me. Please.

No, I have to do this for him.

“You know, sir, I might go along with what you ask if you hadn’t allowed her to be abused. Hit, beaten.”

Alessio’s expression changed from intent to emotionally gobsmacked. He sat forward and linked his hands between his knees, staring at them. Finally, he raised his gaze to Connor. “That is something I will go to my grave suffering for. I was horribly wrong.”

Connor wondered if the king had ever admitted that before.

“All right. I accept your regret. Your sincerity. But it’s not me you need to say all this to.” He pictured Calla and her dark beauty hearing this confession. She’d listen like she always did, then be thoughtful about how to respond.

“I already have. I told her and my wife the same thing. Callandra has forgiven me.”

“Not your wife?”

“Not as easily. She is a strong, loving woman, who was unable to forgive me for a very long time.”

“I see.” Still, Connor was unclear about why he was here. “Well, if it’s my forgiveness you want, you have it. I don’t see how that changes anything.”

“I am not here about myself. I’m here about you and Callandra.”

“What’s between us goes beyond forgiveness. She left me twice.” His throat clogged. “I didn’t survive the first time well, and although I’m still standing, I’m not so hot these days either.”

“Then give me today to convince you.”

Connor wanted to say no. He didn’t want to spend the day with this man, at this place that held so many memories. He opened his mouth to reject Alessio’s proposition. But he had a sudden flash of insight that this could be good for both him and Calla. “I’ll stay. I’m not making any promises, though. Even though you are a king. Calla’s father.”

“I hope I can change your mind.”

An hour later they were walking the grounds. Connor held his breath at the rush of pain that came as he remembered his walks with Calla...how her hand felt in his again...how she leaned into him...how they commented on the birds and the trees and the terrain.

“Memories?” Alessio asked.

“Many.”

“I’m sorry if this place upsets you. But I wanted you to remember what it was like when you were happy with Callandra here.”

“She told you?” Jesus, he wondered how much.

“Nothing personal. But I know you got close.”

Connor didn’t say anything.

“Let me give you some history, Connor, which might clarify why I am like I am. Which in turn leads to why Callandra did what she did. I was born fifty-seven years ago. My father was a good man, a loving one. I was their only child.”

Connor hadn’t known the details.

“I tried my whole life to live up to his expectations.”

“I understand. I feel the same way about my father.”

“I was groomed to take over for him. And then a cataclysmic event happened.”

“To him?”

“No, to me. I met Renata Marcello. She was from an upper-class family and her father was a banker. She was seventeen when she came into my life, right after I returned home from college. I saw her at a royal ball that she and her family had been invited to. When she walked in, I was stunned by her beauty.”

“Calla must resemble her.”

An indulgent smile. “She does. We danced all night. My father wasn’t happy. He thought I should pay attention to all the women of Casarina. But I couldn’t help myself.”

“I understand that fully.”

“I saw her every day for a month. She’d graduated from our university school which would be your high school. She was headed to college in France to become a teacher.”

“So with that education, she started the Marcello Schools?”

“She started them, yes. But she never went to France.”

“Why?”

“She started schooling in Casarina because of me. We have colleges there, but not as well-respected as some in other countries. Right away, though, she got pregnant with Callandra.”

“So she married you at seventeen?”

“Not for eight months. My father was livid about the child and ordered us to wed right away. But my Renata held out because she wanted a prenuptial agreement. Unlike Callandra, she knew about the laws of the land.”

“And you wouldn’t give it to her.”

“My father wouldn’t allow me to. But he gave in right before Callandra was born when he realized he was not going to force Renata to do anything she didn’t want to.”

“That’s quite a story.”

They walked farther, the crunch of the leaves and twigs beneath their feet filling the silence. Finally, Alessio began again. “Our life was idyllic for three years. We had another baby even. We were so happy. Then my father died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was twenty-seven when I became king. And it changed me, Connor. Not for the best. It started this whole chain of events that led me here to you.”

When they headed back to the lodge, Connor was still musing on Alessio’s explanation of what happened to change him. His mind was spinning with the tales Alessio told: of trying to balance family and government, becoming more and more stern and unyielding as he wielded his power out of the palace. Of his fights with Renata. Apparently though, they made up with passion because Connor knew his children were closely spaced. And Callandra had been raised with love, but also with a sense of deep and abiding loyalty.

As they reached the pool, Alessio stopped. “Ready for a swim?”

It would certainly clear his head. “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“Jim Manwaring said to use the clothing he keeps here.”

“I’m not sure I can fill the president’s trunks.”

Alessio laughed, a full one, like Calla had laughed when they could suppress the hardships of Syria. It made Connor’s heart clench. The more he was with her father, the more he noted how much Calla resembled him, not in appearance but in mannerisms.

When they met back at the pool, Alessio dropped towels on a chaise and said, “Race you to the end.”

The total absurdity of the king of a country acting like a kid lightened the tension in Connor’s stomach. “You’re on.”

They walked around to the deep end of the pool, Connor counted, “On three. One...two...three.”

Both executed a perfect dive. Alessio had a strong crawl. And a fast one. Connor tried to keep up but he couldn’t. The king won by a length. “I still have it, cumba!”

He’d picked up some Italian and knew that was an archaic term for friend.

Hefting himself up, Connor sat on the edge of the pool, his feet still in the water. Alessio stayed in the water, leaning against the side. “Why did you join Doctors Without Borders?” her father asked.

Connor didn’t have to figure that one out. “Because I was needed. Because I knew I could help over there since I had the God-given skills to be a doctor.”

Hmm. “You know Renata’s parents were among its founders.”

“I do.”

“Calla’s explanation for going was almost the same as yours.”

Connor looked away. Loss hovered around the deck area, thick and deep. “At this place, we discovered we’re a lot alike.”

“That’s always good to build a life on.”

“Alessio...” He wasn’t ready to go there.

“I know. I promised her I wouldn’t pressure you.”

“She knows you’re here?”

“Ha! I would be run out of my own palace if she didn’t know. But you don’t understand. She asked me to check on you.”

Why did his heart leap at the notion? “That surprises me.”

“What do you mean? Surely you know how much she loves you.”

Connor didn’t respond.

Alessio said, “I’m taking another swim. Think about what I just told you.”

As the king executed an arm-over-arm crawl, Connor could think about nothing else:

I want you. I don’t know how to stop this.

You can’t. He leaned down and kissed her nose. We never could, right from the very first time.

Then, later...the carnal stuff: how it felt to be inside her. How she trembled under his hands. The intense pleasure she gave him.

But the most tender times hurt more:

Muffled sounds. Are you crying?

Yes. Are you?

Yes. I missed this.

I missed you so much, Connor. Like this, being a part of me.

I could never have this with another.

Me either, Connor. I love you.

I love you too.

Alessio returned.

Connor said directly, “You’re right. I still love her.”

“I thought so. Now, you must learn to forgive her.” With that, he pushed off from the edge again, leaving Connor to feel all sorts of conflicting emotions.

Like father, like daughter, he guessed.

They had a normal dinner. Alessio cooked, which Connor got a kick out of. After which, the king said, “I must go to France tonight for a meeting in the morning.”

“Will the car be available to take me back to Whitney’s place?”

“Of course. Before I go, may I give you some advice?”

Hadn’t he been doing that all day?

“Yes, of course.”

“Don’t let yourself lose her. She loves you, you love her and you could live happily-ever-after together.”

Connor smiled. Casarina had always seemed like a fairytale land to him.

“On a personal note, my relationship with Renata can be tumultuous sometimes, but I cannot imagine my life with another woman.”

Connor sighed.

“Do you honestly see yourself settling down with someone else?”

“No.”

“Then perhaps this last thing will help. I know of your fears about her leaving you again, perhaps taking your children with her. I promise on my father’s grave, I will never ask her to do that.”

“Even if we have a boy?”

Her father leaned over. “Yes, until he’s of age, and can make the choice himself. But I’ll instill a sense of loyalty in him, of duty to his country.”

“I would expect no less.”

“Take a risk, son.”

Connor sighed.

“You could go to Casarina now. I’ll send the plane back for you.”

“I can’t do that.” Did he want to? The answer came to Connor like a bolt of lightning. “But I’d like to. However, my cousin is getting married at the end of the week. I have to be here for that.”

“Ah, I see. After?”

“Maybe.”

“Thank you for coming here. Talking to me.”

“I love her as much as you do, Alessio.”

“Hmm. Then maybe someday, you’ll be calling me father, too.”

Calla and Lexy had begun playing Scrabble an hour ago. Because her father was due back anytime now, Calla thought it would be a distraction. But she’d forgotten how she and Connor played and the memories were bittersweet. Since Papá had left, she recognized that she probably wasn’t going to get over the terrible feelings inside her.

The door opened in the entryway. Calla forced herself to stay where she was until he came inside. She heard voices. Her mother. They spoke very softly, gently, then came onto the sunny living room holding hands.

“Papá, welcome back.” This from Lexy.

He crossed to her and kissed her cheeks. When Calla stood, he hugged her. In her ear he whispered, “I saw Connor. He’s in about the same shape as you are, cara mia.”

She stepped back, placed her hand on her stomach. “You did what I asked, didn’t you Papá?” She sounded like a little girl with the hope in her voice.

“Of course.” He glanced at her mother. “I know I let you down before, but I will not again.”

“I believe you.”

“I will tell you the details now, if you wish.”

“No, you’re always tired after trips. Go rest. I can wait.”

Her mother went upstairs with her father and Calla said to her sister, “I think I’ll stretch out here on the sofa, Lexy, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Can I get you something?”

“No thank you.” Calla lay down on the flowered rattan couch big enough for two people. She closed her eyes but sleep eluded her. She thought of Connor in Syria once more, his blue eyes sparkling with moisture.

I can’t imagine separating from you, Calla...

Please, love, don’t go back. We can be happy together...

And then the second time at Camp David.

You don’t understand my fears and the repercussions of the last time you left me. Razim...

Calla thought about Razim and how he died trying to save a man he adored. She thought about Connor and how he suffered over that. And she thought about her own state of mind and how utterly sad she’d been since she came home. She fell asleep with an image of her and Connor and the baby living happily-ever-after.

Calla awoke. The sun was setting but she could see the silhouette of her father against the sky. “Papá? How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know what I want to tell you, Callandra. Let’s talk.”