Page 289 of Mario
“No,” Tomasso says. “It’s not.”
Matteo looks at his brother, then at me. “He’s right.”
I sit very still.
“She would not have wanted you to spend the rest of your life alone just to prove she mattered.”
I say nothing.
Because there is no defense against that.
Not one that does not make me sound like exactly the kind of fool Anna would have cut apart with one look.
Tomasso continues, quieter now.
“She mattered. She matters. To us. To you. That does not change because someone else walks through the door.”
A long silence follows.
This time, I do not fill it with an order or a correction.
Matteo studies me for a moment, then says, “When we were young, I used to think you would marry again.”
That surprises me enough to look at him fully.
“You did?”
He nods.
“I hated the idea,” Tomasso says.
Matteo glances at him. “You hated many ideas.”
“I was seventeen and angry.”
“You were angry before seventeen.”
Tomasso ignores him and keeps his eyes on me. “I hated the idea. I thought if you ever looked at another woman, it would mean you had moved on from her.”
His mouth tightens.
“Then years passed. And you didn’t. Not really. You lived. You worked. You raised us. You ruled everyone. But you didn’t… I don’t know.”
“Let anyone in,” Matteo says.
Tomasso nods once. “Yes.”
I look at the table.
“I had you,” I say. “It is enough.”
“You did,” Matteo says. “You still do.”
“But, no, we are not enough to be your whole life,” Tomasso says.
The words hit me hard.
Not because they are cruel, but because they are generous.
