1 WEEK LATER
"DADDY, WAKE UP," yelled Sofi.
I opened my eyes, startled awake, only to find two matching pairs staring back.
"Buongiorno," said Angelo with a gap filled smile.
Buongiorno," I smiled, sitting up and pulling them in for a hug. I looked over at the nightstand to check the time. It was an hour till noon, our scheduled family brunch time.
"We're gonna be late if you don't hurry," Angelo said.
"Mommy is still getting dressed so you have some time," said Sofi.
"I'm ready," Zhara said from the door. "Francesca is going to kill us if we're late."
"I'll be down in a few," I groaned. Sofi patted my hair down.
"Daddy why's your hair so messy," she asked. I looked at a blushing Zhara.
"Ask mommy," I told her.
"Mommy—."
"—let's let daddy get dressed. Come on," Zhara cut her off, trying to avoid the question. The twins jumped off the bed, Angelo helping Sofi down, and followed Zhara out the room.
I watched her hips sway and flashes of the night before forced me to lick my lips. I was ready in half an hour and found everyone sitting in the backyard, breakfast laid out.
"Barely made it," Francesca commented. I let her attitude slide considering what today was. Everyone was dressed in black for the funeral we were to attended in 2 hours.
I took a seat at the other head of the table, my dad sitting across from me. We hadn't talked much since Amico's sudden death, but I could tell something about him had changed. He looked tired and mellow. I could tell myself it was because of Amico's death, but I had a feeling he had the same epiphany I had; he realized we weren't as invincible as Amico always made it out be.
We ate in silence, Sofi and Angelo occasionally whispering to each other; they must've sensed the tension. When we'd finished eating, we drove over to the cemetery, Amico's wagon leading the way. The weather was the opposite of the mood, the sun resting high above the fluffy clouds. I carried Angelo on my hip and held Zhara's hand, Sofi walking ahead of us and helping Jessica with the baby bag. Stephan was walking with our mom while my father helped Francesca walk towards the seats. Cane was the only one missing—his choice.
When our guests, mostly our guards and some old leaders that were around during Amico's reign, saw us approaching, they all stood. No one said a word as we took a seat at the front. The sermon began and soon it was time for the eulogy. Stephan went first, then Natalia. When a crying Natalia couldn't finish, I walked over to her, relieving her.
I stood at the podium and thought for a moment, clearing my throat before speaking.
"I was 12 years old when my grandfather taught me something I'd like to share with you all. Like every last day of our summer vacations here, he called me to his office. I always dreaded it because I'd always want to spend that time doing other things, like hanging out at the beach, wrestling with Stephan, pissing off nonna." Francesca smiled, wiping a tear.
