DANTE’S POV The hum of the jet engines made the floor vibrate as we flew at thirty thousand feet, the dark Atlantic stretching endlessly beneath us.
Gabriela was asleep in one of the private cabins down the hall, overcome by travel fatigue.
I sat in the main cabin, gazing out the oval window at the inky sky, a glass of amber scotch beading with condensation against my knuckles.
Across the small mahogany table, Rico lounged in his leather armchair, swirling his glass while watching my every move.
“What are you thinking about?” Rico asked calmly, breaking the heavy silence.
“I’m just…” I tightened my grip on the crystal glass, my eyes fixed on the clouds outside.
“I’m just nervous.
I never thought I’d be coming home this soon.” Rico looked at me, his expression softening ever so slightly.
“We all missed you.
Especially Dad…
even though you know he’d sooner die than admit it.” My jaw tightened; a familiar bitter taste rose in my mouth at the mention of the old man.
“Well.
I don’t have much to say to him.” Rico shook his head with a weary sigh and set his glass down with a soft clink.
“You two are both incredibly stubborn.” He fell silent then, turning his attention to his phone.
I didn’t say another word, letting the low roar of the engines swallow up the remaining hours.
I kept my face turned toward the window, watching the dark night gradually give way to the pale blue horizon of morning.
The jet touched down gently on the tarmac of a private airfield on the outskirts of the city, far from commercial traffic.
The mobile staircase lowered with a loud hydraulic hiss.
As soon as the door opened, the biting cold of an Italian morning rushed into the heated cabin, bringing with it the familiar scent of damp earth and pine.
I stepped to the top of the stairs and took a slow breath, looking down at the asphalt below.
Parking twenty yards away was a short motorcade of two sleek black sedans, the lead vehicle idling, and a secondary SUV parked right behind it.
Standing near the rear door of the lead sedan was Mother.
She possessed the natural grace of a woman born into power, her rich brown hair swept back and her eyes a striking blue, identical to Rico’s.
Beside her stood a young girl in a cropped leather jacket, denim shorts, and white sneakers, her dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
“Who is that girl standing beside Mother?” I asked, frowning slightly as I took the first step down.
Rico blinked at me from behind, glancing over my shoulder before giving me a disbelieving look.
“Are you being serious right now?
That’s Alessia.” I stopped mid-step, my eyes widening as I looked back at him.
“Small Alessia?” “She’s not so small anymore, Dante,” Rico said quietly, a faint smirk touching his mouth.
The moment my boots touched the bottom step, Alessia spotted me.
Her face lit up instantly as she broke into a run, bridging the distance across the asphalt in seconds.
Before I could even brace myself, she threw herself into my arms.
I caught her easily, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around as her laughter echoed across the runway.
“Mio Dio,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, as I set her down—(My God).
“Look at you.
You’ve grown so much.” She beamed, pushing back a stray lock of dark hair that had fallen across her face, and wrapped her arms around my neck for a second, tighter hug.
“I missed you so much, fratellone—(big brother).” I hugged her back, holding her close as the weight on my chest lifted just a little.
“I missed you too, kiddo.
You were just a tiny thing when I left.
And now, look at you, you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.” She beamed, adjusting her jacket.
“I’m in high school now, you know!” “I know,” I said, nodding gently.
“You told me on the phone last month, remember?” “That’s right,” she said with a laugh, her green eyes sparkling.
“It’s just…
I still find it hard to believe you’re really here, in Italy.
It’s been so long.” Behind us, Rico cleared his throat as he came down the last few stairs.
“What, don’t I get a hug?” Alessia turned to him and gave him a deadpan look.
“Didn’t I see you just two weeks ago?” She stepped slightly to the side, letting go of my arm so I could walk freely toward Mother.
My legs suddenly felt heavy as lead.
My heart began to pound against my ribs, heavy and erratic, as my gaze shifted from Alessia to the woman standing by the sedan.
Mother hadn’t moved an inch, but as I drew closer, I saw her whole body visibly trembling.
Tears glistened in her brilliant blue eyes.
Standing face-to-face with her, after leaving without a word five years earlier, sent a wave of icy dread rising in my throat.
I stopped a few paces away from her.
Alessia and Rico fell into place a few steps behind me, standing quietly on the asphalt.
“Ciao, Mamma,” I said softly, my voice thick with emotion—(Hello, Mom).
That broke down her defenses.
Mother let out a choked sob and rushed toward me, pulling me into a fierce, desperate embrace.
“Ah, mio figlio…
mio figlio,” she wept against my shoulder—(Ah, my son…
my son).
“I missed you so much…
mi manchi così tanto (I missed you so much)…” I held her tight; hot tears stung my eyelids before rolling down my cheeks.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were red.
Before I could even say a word, she raised her hand and struck my chest with her palm.
“You’re so cruel!” she cried.
“How could you leave your mother like that?
How could you go without even saying goodbye?” “I’m sorry, Mamma,” I whispered, pulling her close again.
“I’m so sorry.
The one thing I regretted every day after I left was not saying goodbye to you.
I swear to you, it will never happen again.” She held me for another moment before stepping back and wiping away the last of the tears clinging to her eyes.
Rico sauntered over, his arms crossed.
“What?
You’d think he was your only child.” Mother glared at him.
“Shut up, Rico.
This isn’t the time for your stupid jokes.” “All right, fine, fine,” Rico said, raising his hands in surrender, stepping back toward the secondary SUV.
I looked at the three of them, Rico’s half-smile, Alessia standing proudly at my side, and Mother staring at me with red-rimmed eyes, and felt a wave of immense relief wash over me.
Then Mother’s gaze shifted past my shoulder toward the stairs.
Gabriela was finally stepping down off the plane, heading toward the group.
Mother turned back to me, her brows furrowed, asking a silent but loaded question.
“No, no, no,” I said quickly, leaning in to whisper in Italian: “Parliamo dopo”—(We’ll talk about it later).
Mother gave an imperceptible nod.
By the time Gabriela reached us, Mother had smoothed her features into a mask of politeness.
“Hello, Mrs.
Moretti,” Gabriela said softly, wearing a dazzling, practiced smile.
“You look as beautiful as ever.” “Thank you, Gabriela,” Mother replied calmly, her gaze sweeping over the young woman’s face.
“You look lovely, too.
In fact, I’d say you’re positively radiant.” Mother’s gaze darted back and forth between Gabriela and me, heavy with implication.
I immediately looked away, staring at the horizon as if I hadn’t noticed a thing.
Snapping back to reality, I turned to Mother.
“Mamma, which hospital is Nonna in?
I want to go see her.” Mother shook her head, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
“If I’d known a hospital stay was all it took to get you back to Italy, I would have checked myself in five years ago.” I winced.
“Mamma, why would you say something like that?” “Well,” she said, sniffing as she adjusted her leather gloves, “you abandoned your mother for five years.
What did you expect?” I pressed two fingers against the bridge of my nose.
“God.
I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?” Mother laughed, gently patting my cheek.
“No, mio figlio.
I’m going to tease you about this for a long time.” She gestured toward the cars.
“Come.
Let’s go straight to the hospital.”