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  “Leo told me you already have grandchildren,” I say, trying to find middle ground for us to discuss.

  “Ah, yes.” He lifts his wineglass to his lips and pauses. “Alicia’s always been a problem child.”

  Alicia is one of Leo’s sisters, and from everything I’ve heard about her, she is, in fact, a problem. If I didn’t know the backstory, I would’ve been taken aback by Mario’s comment about his daughter. But knowing what I know, and her propensity to bed-hop, I know his father can’t exactly be proud of her antics.

  “Pop,” Leo warns. “Be nice.”

  “I love my grandchildren. I couldn’t cherish their little faces any more than I already do, but my daughter…” He shakes his head and sighs. “She’s always taken a different path and not one I would’ve chosen for her.”

  Mario is trying to be civil. From the way Leo described him, his father is putting his best foot forward as we sit in the living room, waiting for my father. I replace Alicia’s name in his sentence and know he’s not exactly thrilled about the path Leo took either. I’m sure when he pictured his son having his own children, it wasn’t with the daughter of his mortal enemy.

  Mario leans forward and places his wineglass on the coffee table which separates us. “Can I speak freely?” he asks as he rests his elbows on his legs near his knees, looking at us over the frame of his black glasses.

  “Of course,” I say, not letting Leo answer first. “I’m never one to bullshit, Mario.”

  “When I heard about you and my son, I wasn’t exactly happy.” Mario rubs his hands together in front of himself and glances down at the hardwood floor for a second. “But the way my son looks at you is much the same way I looked at his mother before she agreed to be my wife. Nothing and no one could’ve said anything to change my feelings for her.”

  I don’t say anything as I peer over at Leo, who is, in fact, staring at me. I’m not sure there’s anything I could actually say in response to Mario’s statement, so I decide to keep my mouth shut and just listen for once.

  “My approval is not needed, but I give it willingly,” he says. “I only want the best for my son’s first child.”

  There’s a little misogyny in his words. I hear the sexism plain as day. There’s something about the males in Italian families having their own children that always earns favor above everyone else.

  “I will do my best to work things out with your father. For the sake of my unborn grandchild and the future of our families.”

  This is progress.

  Leo’s phone dings, and he glances down. “Your father is here,” he tells me, covering my hand with his and squeezing.

  Mario stands as Leo does, but I beat them to the elevator doors. I want my face to be the first one my father sees as he steps foot in Leo’s penthouse.

  “Papa,” I say as soon as I see my father. He’s pulled out all the stops, looking every bit as dapper as Mr. Conti in a three-piece suit and newly polished shoes.

  My father’s never been one for suits. He’s worn them, but usually only for funerals and weddings. I can’t tell which category this meeting falls into. Probably a little bit of both. One part of his life is ending, and a new chapter is about to begin.

  When my father wraps his arms around me, I feel him stiffen as Mario walks behind me. “Be good today,” I remind Papa. “This is for the baby, not your ego.”

  He kisses my cheeks as he backs away and smiles. “I know how to handle men like Mario,” he tells me, and that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

  I want them to bury the hatchet, but I don’t even know if it’s possible with all the bad blood between them. Years of turf wars, murder, and backstabbing make the possibility of a truce pretty close to impossible. These two men have to rise above their work for the sake of their children and unborn grandchild.

  “Santino,” Mario says as my father releases me.

  My father dips his head. “Mario.”

  Well, this is a start. They’ve been in the same room for thirty seconds, and there hasn’t been any bloodshed.

  Baby steps. This is good.

  Leo wraps his arm around my back and grips my hip roughly. “Let’s go into the living room, shall we?” Leo says to both men as they stare each other down.

  I take a step and immediately double over like someone just sucker-punched me in the gut.

  “Daphne,” Leo says, his voice filled with panic.

  My hand flies to my stomach, and I gasp for air, feeling like someone’s trying to rip my uterus out through my belly button.

  “Something’s wrong.”

  20

  Leo

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” my father says as he stands across from me in the waiting room.

  I pace, wearing a path into the off-white linoleum. “I can’t believe they won’t let me back there.”

  The nurse practically shoved me out of the emergency room, telling me they had to run tests and I should go relax in the waiting room while they evaluated Daphne and the baby.

  “There was a time when they wouldn’t even allow men in the delivery room for the birth of their child. Remember?” My father asks Santino, trying to be friendlier than I’ve seen him in years.

  “Life was easier then,” Santino tells him. “Much simpler.”

  Besides our fathers’ small talk, the only other sound in the waiting room is the tap of my dress shoes on the tile. I cross the entire room in seven quick steps, before spinning on my heels and repeating. I can’t sit still. I can’t chitchat and talk about the good old days.

  I glance at my watch, wondering what the hell is going on. It’s been an hour since they wheeled her to the back, and there’s been no news or updates as I was promised.

  I walk up to the reception desk and scan the surface, looking for anything with Daphne’s name on it.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the nurse asks as soon as she looks up from the computer screen.

  “I’m here with Daphne Gallo. Are there any updates on her condition?”

  She taps a few keys and shakes her head. “The system hasn’t been updated yet, but I’m sure a doctor will be out soon to talk to you.”

  Her words don’t give me any solace. I’m not used to sitting on the sidelines, waiting for updates.

  “Leo,” Mr. Gallo says as he walks out of the waiting room and comes to stand at my side. “You have to calm down. I know it’s hard.” He grabs my shoulders and stares me in the eyes. “Daphne needs you to be strong and not lose your shit. You hear me?”

  I nod and clench my fists tightly at my sides. “I’ll be strong, Mr. Gallo. But until I know she’s all right, I can and will lose my shit.”

  “Daphne’s a fighter,” he tells me, trying to put my mind at ease.

  “Mr. Conti,” a woman says, standing in the doorway separating the emergency room from the rest of the hospital.

  “Here.” I blow out a breath and walk toward her. “Can I see her now?”

  She nods. “Only one person for right now, and Ms. Gallo is asking for you.”

  Mr. Gallo shoos me forward. “Go. Be with her. We’ll be waiting for you. Your father and I aren’t going anywhere.”

  I follow the nurse down a long corridor of what seems like endless rooms filled with moaning patients and annoying beeping monitors. “She’s resting now.” The nurse motions toward the door. “The doctor will be in soon to give you an update.”

  My footsteps are quiet as I walk into the room, trying not to wake her. Her eyes are closed, and her hands are covering her stomach in a protective way as she lies on the gurney, covered in a thin white blanket. I slide onto the chair next to her, scared to touch her and doing my best to let her rest.

  “Leo,” she whispers and moves her hand to her side. “They won’t tell me anything.”

  “Shh, bella.” I grab her hand, squeezing it tightly. “The doctor’s coming.”

  “What if something’s wrong?” I can hear the panic in her voice.

  “Everything will be fine
,” I lie because it’s easier for me to believe that everything will work out. “I know it will be.”

  A doctor walks in, looking no older than a high school kid, and studies a folder of papers. “Ms. Gallo,” he says before looking up at us.

  “Yes.” I answer for her.

  He flips another page, drawing out the agony and oblivious to our terror. “First off, the baby’s perfectly healthy.”

  I finally exhale, feeling relieved and like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. "Were you under any stress when you started cramping?”

  “A little,” she says as she pulls herself upright a bit more on the gurney.

  A little stress is sitting in traffic on the Kennedy when you’re late for a meeting. What just happened in my penthouse rises to the level of a red alert during the Cold War.

  “You’re going to need to cut down on your stress as soon as possible. Also, add some fiber to your diet. You’re constipated, which made the cramping worse than normal.”

  I laugh, covering my mouth with my free hand.

  Daphne shoots me a death glare. “That’s funny?” she asks and lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Ha-ha. I’m constipated.”

  “Bella.” I lean forward and press my lips to her forehead. “I always knew you were full of shit, but now the doctor’s confirmed it.”

  She swats my arm, not feeling the same sense of playful relief I am. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  He closes the folder in his hands and tucks it under his arm. “Maybe take it easy for a few weeks just to be safe.”

  “I’ll make sure she rests,” I tell him because I won’t allow Daphne to put her life at risk as well as our baby’s.

  “The discharge nurse will be here soon.”

  “Can I get dressed?” she asks before he has a chance to walk out the door.

  “Yes, but get up slowly.”

  Daphne blows out a breath and rolls her eyes.

  I know this taking-it-easy lifestyle isn’t going to sit well with her. I’m going to have to find ways to make her relax and be creative about it. If she thinks I’m handling her in any way, I’ll be fucked.

  She starts to sit up, and I grab her by the shoulders. “What are you doing?” Her eyes narrow as she glances down at my hands.

  “Nothing,” I say quickly, but I don’t pull away. “I’m just helping you.”

  “I’m not broken.”

  I tighten my grip when she tries to push my hands away. “For the good of the baby.”

  Those are the magic words because she instantly stops fighting me. “Fine,” she mutters and motions for her clothes. “Only because I don’t want anything to happen to our baby.”

  As she gets dressed, I ask a passing nurse to bring our fathers in while we wait for her discharge. I know they acted nonchalant about everything, but they were worried too.

  “Daphne,” Mr. Gallo says as he rushes into the room and sees Daphne standing and fully dressed. “Is everything okay?”

  My father’s behind him. “Is the baby okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” I tell them both, but I leave out the bit about her being constipated. “She needs to avoid stress. Today was too much for her.”

  “I’m sorry,” my father says.

  I raise my eyebrows because that may very well be the first time I’ve ever heard him apologize. “Both of you need to work your shit out before it affects our baby, your grandchild.” I punctuate the last word, reminding them a part of each of them is growing inside her.

  “Yes. Yes. Of course,” Mr. Gallo says and glances at my father. “We talked in the waiting room. Whatever’s in the past will stay there.”

  “Son.” My father puts his hand on my shoulder. “Santino is telling you the truth. We’ve buried the hatchet.”

  I eye him skeptically.

  “For the good of our grandchild,” he adds.

  “What about Johnny?” I ask, knowing he’s taking over for Santino and there’s bound to be some carryover.

  “I’ve arranged a sit-down. We’ll iron things out. The city’s big enough for all of us.”

  Daphne looks at me and is just as shocked as I am that they sound like grown-ups about the entire situation. Our entire lives, we’ve listened to these two men trash-talk the other, ready to fight to the death.

  Even though they’re being overly friendly, I imagine there will come a day when the competition kicks in. Whether it be Christmas or birthdays, the other isn’t going to be the cheap grandpa, giving shitty gifts. I’m fine with it. Let them spoil our baby and shower him or her with gifts.

  “I’m taking Daphne away for a little while,” I say.

  “You are?” Daphne glares at me. “We didn’t discuss anything, sweetheart.” She pulls a tight smile, barely moving her lips as she speaks.

  “We could both use some time away.”

  “I can’t leave my brothers short-handed at the bar.”

  “I’ll take care of your shifts,” her father responds quickly.

  Daphne’s head snaps back to him. “Papa, come on.”

  He puts his hands up. “I’ll do it. I’m retired now and have extra time on my hands. Besides, I want you to make sure my grandbaby is healthy.”

  “Our grandbaby,” my father corrects him as the rivalry heats up, only in a new and different way.

  “I don’t know,” she says and glances at the floor.

  I place my fingers under her chin, bringing her eyes to mine. “They can handle it.”

  “Okay,” she whispers, finally giving in.

  21

  Daphne

  The sun warms my face as we sit at a charming little café in the middle of the town square. Mountains stand tall behind the buildings as if they’re reaching for heaven, not realizing they are already set in paradise.

  After a month in Italy, my ability to speak the language of my ancestors is still atrocious. Leo’s been my saving grace, translating like he was born here.

  “I could live here forever,” I say, tipping my head back to soak up a little more sun.

  Life is slow here. There’s no rushing from one place to the next, no traffic jams or police sirens at all hours of the night. The quaint little village of Castel di Sangro, tucked in a valley between the lush mountains and Leo’s great-grandparents’ hometown, is exactly how I imagined the old country to be.

  “We could buy a place and raise the baby here,” he says as he lifts the espresso cup to his lips.

  I glance at him and shake my head. “I can’t leave my family. I need my mom most of all, especially with the baby coming.” I touch the tiny bump that’s finally starting to grow, making the pregnancy all too real.

  “We can spend summers here at the very least.”

  I nod, liking the idea, because I can’t imagine anything better than escaping the loud, harsh city for the green countryside so filled with history and peace.

  “See that church?” Leo motions across the square to a three-story white building which has seen better days. “My great-grandparents were married there, as their parents were.”

  I study him because Leo doesn’t make small talk or drop useless information unless he’s going somewhere with it. “That’s so sweet.” I smile, taking in the beauty of the old structure.

  “I was wondering,” he says as he places his cup back on the table and grasps my hand. “What do you think about getting married there?”

  “Okay,” I say quickly.

  “Because the baby will be here soon, and I’d love to…” He pauses, and his eyebrows draw together when my response finally registers. “Wait. What?”

  “I said okay,” I repeat, knowing he wasn’t expecting me to say yes.

  Leo’s face relaxes as a smile spreads across his handsome face. “I thought I’d have to fight you on this.”

  I shake my head, knowing it’s exactly how I want our family to start. Steeped in history and tradition, surrounded by love and joy. “It’s perfect.”

  He stands up and takes my hand, pulling me i
nto his arms. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, bella.”

  I peer up, staring into those sinful honey-brown eyes that captured me not that long ago. “I want us to be a family, Leo, in every sense of the word.”

  He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, stealing my breath like he does every time he kisses me. I wrap my arms around his middle and hold him tight, wishing we could stay like this forever.

  “How about tomorrow?” he asks.

  “Tomorrow, what?”

  His embrace tightens. “We’ll get married tomorrow.”

  “That’s too soon. I need—” I start to say when he cuts me off.

  “Your family is already on the way here. I have an appointment set for you at the dress shop in town, and the rings are already being made.”

  I blink a few times, totally in shock. “How?”

  He’s barely left my side this entire trip. How he had time to pull together a wedding, including flying my family to Italy, is beyond me. I’ve barely had the energy to make it to sunset every night without taking at least one catnap.

  “While you sleep,” he says and brushes his lips against mine.

  “Oh, well,” I mumble. “Tomorrow.”

  I try to let that sink in. Tomorrow, I’ll no longer be Daphne Gallo, I’ll be Daphne Conti. I wonder how Leo would feel if I decided to hyphenate my name, but that conversation can wait until another day.

  “A marriage license. We need one.”

  “Taken care of, and this is about saying our vows before God more than the law.”

  Then there’s no rush to discuss the legalities of which last name I’ll use. I push it to the side, not wanting to ruin this perfect day.

  “When does my family land?”

  “Your mom is meeting you at the dress shop, and your brothers and father are already back at the hotel.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He’s at the hotel too.”

  I’m speechless. Somehow while we’ve been gone, our fathers have avoided killing each other and kept the truce in place without our having to step in the middle and remind them of their promise. It’s like a modern-day miracle.