Page 313 of Ricardo

Dante’s mouth curves wickedly. “Ricardo is the one who taught me.”

“Oh God. What have I gotten myself into?”

As I sit on the chair next to his bed and we bicker about what is or isn't appropriate to teach a baby, I realize that despite it all, despite Harrison, despite this hospital and its shitty food, despite the wires still hooking Dante up to machines…

Life is beginning to find its way back to us.

Dante is alive. The new life in me is safe.

And Ricardo... Ricardo is on his way here even now, ready to terrorize a doctor or two with his terrifyingly polite questions that demand answers.

Whatever happens next with Harrison will happen. We'll face it. All of us.

But right now?

Right now, I'm just going to enjoy the new weird.

Epilogue

Ricardo

The study is quiet except for the soft murmur of the television.

Though I am alone in here, I am not alone in the house. This house has more people in it now than it did just days ago, and I am aware of every one of them.

Dante is upstairs in his old room, recovering with more irritation than grace. The doctors discharged him yesterday with a long list of restrictions he is determined to break and medications he claims he does not need until the pain makes him pale and takes his breath away.

Julia has been hovering just enough to annoy him, and Dante has been complaining just enough to reassure her.

It has worked better than I feared.

I had wondered, privately, whether bringing him here would make everything harder. My son recovering under my roof while Julia lives here too. Julia, who is pregnant with my child. Julia, who I have asked to move in with me permanently, because I see no reason to wait any longer when I know exactly what I want.

Her.

Our child.

The life beginning here whether the timing is right or not.

I asked her two weeks ago, while she stood in the spare room where she had stored boxes from her apartment, rifling through them for clothes.

I took her hand and brought her to my bedroom, which she had already been sharing with me, and into the closet where I had cleared space for her.

I told her I wanted her here. I told her I wanted her things here, her books, her clothes, her ridiculous number of hair ties. I wanted her life threaded through mine in every possible way.

She cried before she said yes.

Then she assured me that the doctor assured her that the crying wouldn’t last the whole pregnancy. She promises.

I do not mind so much. As long as she turns to me for comfort.

Now she is upstairs, probably in Dante’s room, probably arguing with him to eat soup instead of a steak, which is what he really wants.

He has already accused her of trying to turn him into an invalid. She told him he was doing a beautiful job of it himself.

I couldn't be happier.

Well…