Evelina

(xix)

 Evelina

I stood silently before my mother's tombstone, the cool breeze rustling the leaves in the garden that she had loved so much. The soft fragrance of blooming flowers surrounded me, but it did little to calm the turmoil in my heart.

"Should I forgive him, Mom?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Of course, there was no reply. I didn't believe in spirits or messages from beyond the grave, but standing here, I couldn't help but hope for some kind of sign.

Forgiveness had never come easily to me, and now that my father had resurfaced with tears and apologies, I wasn't sure I was ready to let go of the past.

"Maybe you should."

I jumped slightly at the sound of the voice behind me, one I recognized instantly. My heart lifted, and I turned around to see my husband standing there, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Hubby," I exclaimed, rushing toward him. Without hesitation, I threw my arms around him, burying my face into his chest. His familiar scent—home, safety, and everything I loved—washed over me.

"You've been out here a while," Tony said, his voice low as he held me tight. "Alexa called. She and the gang are coming over in about half an hour. They think they've found a lead on where Enzo is."

"Hmm." I didn't let go, not yet. The idea of Enzo being found should have filled me with more energy, but right now, all I wanted was to stay in this moment, in his arms. Tony's scent—mixed with the soap I always used—clung to him, comforting me.

"You used my soap," I noted, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

"Yes," he replied with a small grin. "I wanted to smell like you."

I chuckled softly, feeling a warmth inside that had nothing to do with the sun. This was what love felt like—effortless, constant, and always there, even when the world around us seemed to shake.

As I gazed into his eyes, a thought crossed my mind. "Tony, can we... have that baby talk now?" I asked, hesitating just a little.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Now?"

"Yeah, now," I said, my voice firm. This was something we had put off for a while, but with everything going on, I felt like I needed to focus on something positive, something about our future.

Tony's lips curled into a mischievous smile before he abruptly bent down and scooped me up, throwing me over his shoulder with ease.

"Tony!" I laughed, playfully kicking my legs. "Put me down! I have legs for a reason!"

"Nope," he teased, his hand resting securely on my back as he carried me across the garden. "I like carrying you."

As we passed the main house, I caught sight of Papà sitting on the patio, sipping his morning espresso. I waved at him dramatically, calling out, "Papà! Questo bel mostro is taking me somewhere, and I don't know where!" (This handsome monster.)

Papà looked up, laughing at the sight of me draped over Tony's shoulder. "He seems to be taking good care of you, figlia. Why should I intervene?" (Daughter.)

"Papà!" I whined, though I was laughing just as much. "Aiuto, per favore!" (Help, please.)

"Perché, caro? Sembra che ti stia divertendo," Papà replied with a chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. (Why, dear? You seem to be having fun.)

As Tony reached the living room, he finally set me down on the sofa—but not without immediately tickling my sides.

"Tony, stop!" I shrieked between fits of laughter, squirming to escape his grasp. "Papà, Aiuto!" (Help.)