Page 287 of Dante
Mom bustles toward the kitchen, already talking about side dishes and dessert options. Dad follows, asking Dante if he wants a beer or something stronger.
Dante catches my eye.
Thank you, he mouths.
I smile and take his hand, leading him deeper into my childhood home.
Dante
The pot roast was perfect. Helen's cooking reminded me of meals I'd forgotten existed. Warm. Simple. Made with love instead of obligation.
Now we sit in the living room, coffee cups in hand. Richard asks about my work. I tell him what I can. Security consulting. Risk management. The sanitized version that doesn't involve blood or bullets.
Helen watches me with soft eyes. She keeps touching Marina's arm, like she needs to confirm her daughter is real. I understand the impulse.
Marina laughs at something her father says. The sound fills the room. Fills me.
This is what normal looks like. This is what I never had.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out. Nico's name flashes on the screen.
"Excuse me." I stand and step toward the hallway. "I need to take this."
I answer before the second ring. "What's wrong?"
"Nora." Nico's voice is tight. Controlled. But I hear the fear underneath. "Her water broke. We're heading to the hospital now. Pietro's losing his mind. I've never seen him like this."
"Which hospital?"
"Northwestern Memorial. Bruno and Lorenzo are already on their way."
"I'm in Ohio. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Drive safe." Nico hangs up.
I turn back to the living room. Marina is already on her feet, her face pale.
"What happened?" She crosses to me. "Dante, what's wrong?"
"Nora's water broke." I pocket my phone. "She's heading to the hospital. The baby's coming."
Marina's expression transforms. Fear becomes joy. She claps her hands together, bouncing on her toes.
"Oh my God!" She grabs my arm. "The baby's coming! Dante, the baby!"
Helen rises from the couch, coffee cup still in hand. "Who's Nora, dear?"
I look at Marina. Then back at Helen.
"My sister-in-law," I say. "Pietro's wife."
Helen's eyebrows lift. "Pietro?"
"My brother."
Richard sets down his cup. "How many brothers and sisters do you have, son?"
