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AFTER SPENDING EVERY waking moment with my babies for the entire day, I place them in their bouncy seats next to the floor-to-ceiling windows, where they’re both enthralled by the clouds veiling and unveiling the moon.

Wearing comfortable black leggings and a simple T-shirt, I sit at the oak dinner table instead of the couch because the knowledge that the taupe blanket draped over it hides the remains of what happened yesterday has been haunting me all day. I know I need to just get rid of it, but when my stomach grumbles, I decide to order supper to get my mind off of it.

Going to the kitchen island, I open the top drawer to get a menu just as the elevator swooshes open and Luca strolls inside with a brown bag. He sets it on the counter, leaning toward me to initiate a kiss but then stopping. “I brought dinner.”

I shut the drawer and peek inside the bag to see a container of delicious basil ravioli and rustic Italian bread, the scent of salty parmesan wafting up.

Then Noah and Milana coo from their bouncy seats, flexing their arms as if they’re in conversation with each other while they look at the dark blue sky. A chuckle escape me and amusement crosses Luca’s angular face, dispelling the sadness surrounding him for a moment.

“It’s like they’re talking to each other,” he remarks.

“They do it a lot and are making new noises every day.”

“They’re learning to recognize the sound of their voices,” he explains, and I merely stare at him in surprise.

“Yeah, I read your baby book,” he admits around a lazy grin as he removes his grey suit jacket and loosens his tie.

Crossing the living room, he bends low to pick up both babies, steadying each of them on an arm. Noah smiles instantly, recognizing his father’s scent. “Hey, little buddy, are you teasing your sister?”

Noah splutters as if he’s answering him as Luca sinks down on a bar stool, and I grab two plates and forks. Getting the food from the bag, I place it on the counter and assess Luca cuddling our twins. I sense a calmness in him that’s been missing for a long time. Nonetheless, we still have a lot to work through.

I split the ravioli between our plates and tear off chunks of bread, popping a steaming piece that’s light as a cloud and tastes divine into my mouth. Rounding the island, I get Milana from Luca and rock her on my arm as I sit across from him.

Picking up my fork, I spear a ravioli, catching Luca watching me as he quietly eats his dinner. I want to ask my questions, yet I don’t dare because his expression is unreadable.

To my utmost surprise, he starts, “We have a plan for Rudd. Adriano and I will seek him out in public at his country club – it’s over.”

Expelling a burdened sigh, I release the tension I’ve kept bottled up inside, but I must know every detail. I refuse to be left in the dark anymore – like I implored him on New Year’s Eve, I need to be more aware, and I pray that he’ll allow that finally or else there might not be a future for us.

“And Tez?”

“Tez didn’t make it through the night. His body has been disposed of at the warehouse up north.”

“Aren’t employees going to ask why he resigned suddenly?”

“No, we’ll just say he had a disagreement with management and chose to leave. And most employees are new anyway since the restaurant opens in two weeks,” Luca replies just when Noah lets out a shriek, his gaze shooting to Noah, who smiles. Clearly, he needed his dad’s attention.

Warmness fills me as we have a normal evening, and I can’t refrain from probing, “What about Simone?”

A scowl darkens his features, although I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or himself. “I already fired her.” Holding my eyes, he admits in a soft tone I haven’t heard in ages, “You were right; she’s not a friend. But she was nothing. And nothing happened between us except that she gave me drinks. I’m sorry if I made you doubt me or our marriage.”

As I’m about to take a bite of ravioli, my hand stops midway to my mouth. The resentment that’s been panging inside me since he pulled away lessens a little with that admission.

“And I promise I won’t drink anymore.”

“Until another issue arises?” I counter, remembering how quickly he lost control.

“I always kept my vows to you, Fallon.”

“I believe that,” I say, yet his actions aren’t easily forgotten. “But do you realize how difficult it was for me to have to remind my husband that I’m the one he should trust and confide in, especially when things aren’t going perfectly – your Syndicate has taught me that.”

A spark of shame spreads across his face, and I lose my appetite all of a sudden. While I’d love to tell him that everything will be okay, I’m not so sure.

I stand up. “And now, the damage has been done.”

He rises just as quickly, positioning Noah on his other arm. “What do you mean? Don’t make the same mistake I made and pull away from me.”

“I’m trying not to,” I reveal in all honesty. “But while I can push the brutality of what we’ve done out of my mind, because this is the world we live in, I can’t simply move on from how you failed me. You didn’t believe me, and you don’t trust that I’m strong enough to protect our children.”

His gaze flickers with a flare of resistance, but he keeps his tone steady. “I do trust your strength. I just didn’t trust my own,” he confesses. “My fear of losing you made me do foolish things.”

Even in his sadness, he’s still strikingly handsome, damn him! “Which has resulted in my fear that you’ll pull away every time something happens, and with you being the underboss, you know the chance of another incident is very likely.”

“I do. But I’m your husband before I’m the underboss. Without you, that title means nothing to me.”

“Then why did you forget that after Noah’s accident?” I ask.

“I didn’t; you’ll see that,” he mutters, toying with Noah’s fingers.

When Milana begins to fuss, I get distracted. “You’re so active tonight. Shall we do tummy time?”

As I pass Luca and walk down the hall, he asks, “Why don’t you play with her in the living room?”

“The couch has blood on it, Luca,” I remind him before slipping into the bedroom.

As I round the bed, I grab the pink and blue quilt that hangs over the crib and sit down at the arched window. Spreading the blanket out, I lay Milana on her stomach and right the edges of it before I kneel beside her. Raising her head, she tries to hold it up and just beams. Then a trail of saliva dribbles down her chin as she attempts to lift up higher but then falls. Leaning to the side, I grab her bib lying on the padded chaise next to us, and when I wipe her mouth, she giggles, seemingly having a ball until she drops forward, hitting her chin, and starts to whine.

After I snap my fingers, she peeks up and is immediately diverted by my voice. “Hey, baby girl. Don’t cry. You’ll get stronger.”

Her body jerks, practically spasming, and I laugh at her cute yet clumsy manner. Smooching her soft little head, I’m filled with elation.

When a shadow falls over me, I sit back as Luca situates Noah next to his sister, also on his belly. Noah immediately almost punches Milana in the face, so Luca’s hand shoots out to snare his tiny wrist.

With a sad tone, he comments, “Buddy, keep it in check.”

Noah grins, melting my heart, before Luca’s smile turns sincere.

Then he hands me a smartphone. “Here’s your new phone. All your data is in it and only the high ranking men and their spouses have your new number.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I place it next to me on the floor.

As Milana wails, Luca takes her in his arms and rests back on the blanket next to Noah, who attempts to shift closer to his dad. Luca lifts up Milana overhead in his arms and she starts giggling again, wiggling her arms in her yellow onesie before he brings her down to his face and then raises her. I’m awed to see a commanding man like Luca, in his expensive dress shirt and tie, playing with his daughter. She laughs in a way I’ve never heard before. It’s unrestrained. I wish it could be like this forever, but the outside world will always interfere. In the end, he has to accept my strength too.

Somehow, we manage to have fun and act like a normal family. It seems to ease the stress on both Luca and me, but we still sleep apart. He doesn’t argue and goes to the couch without asking, which I appreciate as I detect traces of the old, thoughtfully protective Luca returning bit by bit.

***

BY WEDNESDAY, I WANT every trace of this entire month of January expunged. The bloodied couch in the living room has become the bane of my existence. Still, I postpone searching for a new one.

On the positive side, the twins constantly keep me busy, and I also get to go to the shooting range today, which I enjoy.

As I send a message to Cam, asking her to join me, the intercom buzzes. After I press the button, the receptionist speaks, “Mrs. DeMiliano, the furniture has arrived. Mr. DeMiliano informed me they’d come by today. Can I send them up?”

Frowning, I reply, “Wait a minute.” Then I call Luca, bringing my phone up to my ear.

“Fallon?” he answers instantly.

“Hey, did you order furniture? The receptionist said something’s been delivered.”

“Yes, it’s for us. A Syndicate soldier is bringing it up.”

“Oh, okay,” I tell Luca and press the button again to comment, “You can send them up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

While I wait at the elevator, I ask Luca, “What did you buy?”

“You’ll see,” he answers playfully, and I catch myself biting my lip in anticipation just when the door slides open.

The elevator is packed full, and a tall, bulky guy in ripped jeans and a black dress shirt smiles at me. “Your couch has arrived, ma’am.”

“Sure. Come in.” I step aside, still holding up my phone as he drags parts inside, but I don’t see what it is since it’s covered in a lot of plastic.

He surveys the large living room and points to the couch. “I’m supposed to take the old one with me, right?”

“Yes,” Luca answers in my ear, so I say, “Yes.”

He throws the blanket and cushions from the beige, U-shaped couch, not flinching when he notices the blood, and disassembles it so that he can fit it in the elevator. Meanwhile, I rip the plastic off the new couch. Luca’s purchased one that’s covered with expensive ivory-colored fabric.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” I exclaim as the man begins to assemble the pieces in the center of the living room, facing the TV.

“Do you like the color?” he questions while I slide the large, square cushions across the floor toward the guy.

“The ivory color looks perfect against the wood floor. And this one is L-shaped. I love it.” A warm sensation heats my soul.

“There’s more coming. The receptionist should ring again,” he says just as the buzzer goes off, and I hear him chuckle.

Excited, I press the intercom button again. “Hey.”

“There’s another delivery. Shall I send her up?” the receptionist inquires.

“Yes, thank you,” I respond before addressing Luca as I watch the man place the last cushion on the stunning ivory couch, “So is it more furniture?”

“No, this is just for you.” His voice is tender and seductive; it’s the tone I’ve missed intensely.

Then the elevator glides open once again and I recognize the girl from the bakery located around the corner. The one that usually delivers me pastries on Sunday. She sticks out her hand, holding up a white box, and I take it from her while pressing my phone between my ear and shoulder and setting the box on the kitchen island. Lifting the lid, I see a lovely heart-shaped cupcake with lemon frosting and a delicious sugary smell billows up. Wrapping my fingers around the warm cake, I take a huge bite and close my eyes from delight.

“Are you still there?” Luca asks.

I swipe my mouth. “Um, yeah.”

“Did you already eat it?” He laughs.

“I’m eating it now,” I reply, amused and touched that he’s making an effort to show his regret. “Thank you, Luca.”

“I want to make you happy again,” he admits. “I’m trying, dolcezza.”

The mention of the name makes me grin even wider. “I know.”

“I won’t be home late. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I admit before he hangs up.

Although the anger brewing between us has settled, I’m still left with doubts.