Page 44 of Redemption
If I hadn’t been kidnapped, I wouldn’t have everything that matters most to me in my life. I inhale a sharp breath. My hand cups the dark curls crowning my daughter’s head. Silently, as I fight the tears welling at the thought, the words thank you burst through my mind. Thank you for making me a father. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
As if he knows what I’m feeling, Marco says, “You see, all things work together for good. We might have missed much of your life, and you were removed from your heritage and those who loved you, but none of it matters now. All that matters is you coming home. Our parents will both be ecstatic. If you could only feel the joy that beats with every thump of my heart, you would understand. It is a feeling like no other. All will be beyond grateful for your presence and the happy family that comes with you. It is poetic, if you’ll allow me such sentiment.”
I blink back the tears that have gathered against my will. “I had no idea. About any of it. About you. About them. I could never have imagined.”
“Of course not. How could you? I know it must be much to process, especially with how different your existence has been. But you have been loved every day from the day of your birth until now, whether you knew it or not. And this is why you must expect a spectacle from our mother. I would not be surprised if she found doves to release.” With that comment, he chuckles, and a tear rolls freely down his cheek.
What must it be like not to care that another man sees you cry? The question ghosts through my mind before I feel a wet trail sneak down my cheek that I’m unable to brush away with my hands full with my sleeping baby.
I decide that I don’t care either. In this moment, there’s no one to call me weak. Not even myself. Because I don’t know who I am anymore.
I don’t feel like Lachlan Mount.
I don’t know who Luca Giordano is yet.
But I don’t care. I don’t need a name to feel the joy rolling off my brother that’s taking up residence in my own heart. A heart that I thought was dead and black until Keira woke it from its death-like slumber and Aurora’s birth sent it bursting through my chest with a love I never knew I was capable of feeling. And now … an entire family. A mother, who anticipates my return with such excitement that she might find doves for the occasion …
A quiet laugh escapes me, joining the chuckles of my brother.
“What a life, man. What a life …”
My brother’s smile nearly splits his face in half. “It’s a good one, brother. A great one even. I cannot wait to introduce you to all you have missed. It will be my pleasure and my honor. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for these moments that are to come. It will be incredible to have our family reunited once more. If the beating wings of my heart could fly this plane, we’d be there in moments instead of hours.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Mount
As I try to comprehend just how massively my life is about to change, the woman who saw to our comfort as we boarded the jet pads silently up the aisle, stopping next to me and Marco. She takes note of the sleeping ladies and smiles.
“Can I get you gentlemen anything to eat or drink?” she asks in a whisper. Glancing at me, she says, “Mr. Giordano mentioned you would be hungry on the flight.”
With her question, my stomach releases a grumble. I’m impressed that she isn’t looking from me to him and back again, taking in our similarities. As we were boarding, Marco mentioned she’d been with the family for years and was eminently trustworthy.
“Food would be welcome. Thank you,” I reply.
“What do we have for the flight, Margarite?” Marco asks.
“We have a lovely sautéed garlic chicken with steamed vegetables and whipped potatoes. We also have a spring mix salad and, of course, pasta with sauce made from the Giordano family estate tomatoes.” She glances at me. “And if you prefer something else, sir, I have more options.”
“The chicken and vegetables would be great. And obviously, I have to try the pasta and sauce.”
Marco smiles as I speak. “I hoped you would. It is better freshly made and eaten in the kitchen at our country estate, but at least, this way, you will taste part of your heritage sooner.” He inclines his chin as his gaze shifts to Keira. “Should we wake her to eat?”
I look over at my wife, who is sleeping like she’s dead to the world. “No. She needs the rest.”
“Whenever she awakens,” Margarite whispers, “I am happy to fix her a plate. There is no need to worry that she will go hungry if she does not eat now.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “And the baby ate before we took off, so she’ll be fine for a while.”
Margarite nods with a sunny smile. “Excellent, sir. And to drink?”
“Still water.”
“Wonderful. And for you, Mr. Giordano?” she asks, turning her attention to Marco.
“I’ll have one of everything you mentioned with sparkling water. Thank you for preparing it quietly so as not to awaken our guests.”
“Of course, Mr. Giordano. I will be as silent as a mouse.” She dips her chin before moving back toward the galley.
