“Yeah, more for my mom than anything else, though. And he’s her baby. I know parents don’t technically have favorites, but they do.” As I open the car door she puts her hand on my arm.

“Sergio?”

One leg is already out of the car when I look back at her.

“How long does she have?”

I take a deep breath. “Hard to say. Months. She won’t survive the year.” I try not to feel anything when I say it, but that’s impossible. “Come on, let’s go in.”

She opens her door and by the time she climbs out, I’m at her side, our bags on my shoulder. I take her hand and turn to the large wooden doors illuminated softly by the old-fashioned lanterns on either side. I love this house. Always have. And one day, it’ll be mine.

The doors open as we approach and my father stands at the entrance. He barely glances at me. He’s been waiting to see Natalie ever since I told him this morning that I was bringing her.

“Dad,” I say as we climb the stairs. “Were you watching out the window?” I give him a hug and he pats my back.

“First girl you bring home? Yeah, I’m watching out the window.”

Natalie stands tense beside me. My dad’s not hiding the fact that he’s looking her over from head to toe—taking her measure. He’s gauging whether or not she’s worthy of me. The real question is are we worthy of her.

“This is Natalie Gregorian,” I say. “Let’s try and not scare her off before she’s inside, okay?”

My father’s eyes are on hers and he lifts his chin a little. There’s a moment of awkward silence before he extends a hand to her.

“Welcome, Natalie Gregorian.”

I swear I hear Natalie swallow. My father can be overbearing, and that’s putting it mildly.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Benedetti,” Natalie says, sliding her hand into his. He doesn’t quite shake it, just holds it in his and I swear he hasn’t blinked.

I look at him, try to see him as she is seeing him. Not like his son. His favorite son.

Dominic may be my mom’s favorite, but I’ve always been my dad’s. I almost feel sorry for Salvatore.

Not for the first time in my life, I see a coldness in my father’s eyes. A ruthlessness. Is that what she sees? I wonder how much like him I am. Wonder if I should feel anything about that, because I don’t.

Natalie finally drops her gaze and clears her throat.

“It’s cold,” she says to me.

I get the feeling she doesn’t mean the weather. “Let’s go in.”