“Everything is going to be fine, precious one,” Mamma says as she sits behind Rosa and weaves her hair into braids.

But if that is true, Rosa wonders, why is Mamma crying so hard? “Papà won’t stay with the angels too long, Mamma,” Rosa says. “He will miss us too much.”

The laughter only makes Mamma sob louder. Rosa doesn’t know how else to comfort her. And she feels guilty for lying. She told her mother that she had drunk all the yucky medicine that the doctor promised would keep her safe after what happened to Papà. But Rosa couldn’t swallow it. It tasted worse than that oily fish her auntie cooks. So Rosa only pretended to swallow the medicine and went and spat it out in a tissue after each spoonful.

Rosa feels chilled. For a moment she wonders if Nonna or Papà opened a window. But Nonna is not home and Papà is with the angels. “Mamma, you won’t go live with the angels, will you?” she asks.

Her mother kisses the top of her head and wraps her arm tightly around Rosa’s chest. “No, no, darling. I will never leave you.”

Rosa squeezes the back of her mother’s hand. “Promise, Mamma?”

“I promise, precious!” Mamma grabs Rosa’s hand and clutches it in hers. “I will never let you go.”

Rosa doesn’t understand why the room is getting so cold. She snuggles in closer to Mamma, but it doesn’t really help. “Mamma, can I have ribbons on my braids?” Rosa asks.

“Of course, darling. What color?”

Rosa hesitates. “I like pink and blue.”

Mamma laughs through her tears again. “Why not both, then?”

“Why not, Mamma?” Rosa echoes as her legs and arms begin to tremble from the cold.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Nico hasn’t said more than three words since he got behind the wheel. Alana can’t remember seeing him this angry. She tried to talk him out of confronting Zanetti, but recognizing how futile it was, she insisted on accompanying him instead.

They are heading south of the city along the Ligurian coastline. The two-lane highway is congested with late afternoon traffic. Nico drives aggressively, quick on his horn and veering out often into the opposite lane to look for any opportunity to overtake the cars ahead.

Alana finally breaks the silence. “I saw Claudio this afternoon. He’s doing better.”

Nico only nods.

“He also told me some things.” She clears her throat. “About you and Isabella.”

Nico glances over at her. “Like?”

“He said you two went through a . . . rough patch around the time Simona was born.”

“A rough patch?” Nico snorts. “I suppose you could call it that.”

“How would you describe it?”

“Isabella thought I had become distant. And that I was working too much.” He shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe she was right.”

“These things usually take two.”

“Then again, I thought she was fucking one too many men.”

Alana’s gaze drops to her lap. “I’m sorry, Nico.”

“Her boss. At the bank. Can you believe it? Such a cliché.” He scoffs. “And I was the one who had ‘the wandering eye.’ Isabella, she would get so jealous.” Alana doesn’t say anything, so he continues. “Never once, Alana. Not with Isabella or you or anyone else have I ever crossed that line.”