A quiet settles over the room, the whole place vibrating in the wake of Antonia’s storm. “I thought I’d go look for them, and you can stay with the kids,” says Paolo to Antonia, but to all of them. He speaks to Antonia the way you’d speak to a nervous horse. Their reconciliation is predicated on catastrophe and he does not know if it will last. He still can’t figure out what sea change the birth of Enzo has wrought; it is like he can’t see Antonia, can’t bring her into focus, can’t fit all of her into his field of vision. One moment she is joyful; the next, she darkens away from him. One moment she is buying shrimp for Sunday dinner and the next she is screaming at Joey Colicchio. Paolo remembers how well he thought he could see Antonia before they were married. It occurs to him now to wonder whether he has ever really understood her.

“I’m coming,” says Antonia. “Can the kids stay here?”

Rosa says of course or something to that effect; she wants to convey the absolutism of her affirmation, of course, forever, all of the children, for as long as you want.

“You can’t come,” says Paolo; the idea of letting his wife go out to search for Sofia and Saul in a Fianzo stronghold is absurd.

Antonia does not respond, but hands Enzo to Lina, kisses his face, his curled hands, and everyone in the room can hear and feel the space between Antonia and Enzo echo and tear as Antonia stands and moves away. Antonia’s face is all long anguished lines, all primal torment. Lina looks at Antonia and nods once, almost imperceptibly.

“Tonia, listen to me,” says Paolo. “Let me go find them.” And still, Antonia is silent. But when Paolo reaches out to touch her shoulder, to guide her back to reality, Antonia wheels around and emits a feral, choking snarl, something so animal Paolo flinches back away from her.

“Thank you,” says Antonia to Rosa and Lina, and then she turns and walks out the front door.

Paolo stands for a moment, in shock or in reverence, in absolute silence, and then he looks at Lina and Rosa, at Enzo and Robbie, at Frankie and Julia, and at Joey. And because he has to, Paolo finds his voice. He says, “I have to go.” He turns and walks out the front door of the Colicchio apartment.

—

The sun comes barging around the corner of the Fianzo building like a battering ram and almost immediately Sofia is sweating. Her underarms and the creases at her knees and elbows drip.

It feels like she has been waiting here for hours. For most people, the anticipation of confrontation would have dulled, but Sofia is not most people. She burns just as brightly now as she did when she left her apartment in the predawn light.