Right then, with his shoulders drooped, he appeared smaller somehow, and I realized then that the only Vero who was capable of holding a seat at the high table was Vittoria’s father. Como was too weak a man for the role. And the thought of Vincenza in that seat… it made one shudder.

Without another word spoken, I stood tall and walked out of his room. I then drove home and woke my wife with kisses and breakfast and good news. Her initial shock turned into a quiet laugh and wide smile, and then, it all fell away. Heartbreak, mourning and intense longing broke through the forefront. I held her as she cried softly into my throat, and it told me I’d done the right thing in disregarding my every instinct to destroy Como Vero.

And I knew then I would have done anything for this kind of response.

Anything to make her happy.

* * *

Vittoria

Dinner went better than I could have hoped for. From the very moment my Zio Como opened the front door, I didn’t wait. I threw myself into his arms. And when the first of my tears escaped, he held me close with a hand to the back of my head. I barely heard his apology over the pressure in my head relieving itself, but the truth was, even if he hadn’t offered it, I would have come and embraced him nonetheless.

Como may not have been the best role model, but I couldn’t just forget what he did for us.

He was a bachelor with zero commitments, living a free life, when we were dumped into his lap. He took us in without a second thought. He never complained. He didn’t mistreat us. In fact, he changed his life to work around our needs. I couldn’t discount all the good he did.

Sometimes people said things they regret.

The sudden memory of the night my father died caused a shadow to fall over my soul.

I was guilty of it myself.

Sure, it was a little awkward at first. When Vincenza hugged me, I could feel her stare Ettore down in some bizarre power move. Thankfully, my husband had more sense than to engage. Besides, that fight would have been over in seconds. Like a rottweiler vs a chihuahua, I know Ettore was simply waiting for Enza to overstep so he had an excuse to tear her head off.

He was behaving for me.

The conversation was stunted at times, but polite. The flow of the evening slowed some and when I asked my uncle if I could go up to my room, he said, “Of course. It’s your room, Vicky. It’ll always be your room.”