73

Faust

Francesca shined at dinner. I had rarely seen her so excited, so happy, and I liked seeing her like that. As we ate, she entertained us with stories of growing up, as well as her adventures so far in Italy – clean, of course. Her sisters didn't know about the kidnapping, and I wondered if she would tell them what happened.

“The gelato in Rome was the best I've ever had,” she said.

“You've certainly tasted enough,” my son said with a smile, which made Francesca pick up a bagel and pretend to throw it at him.

Zia playfully scolded them in Italian, which made everyone laugh.

I stayed quiet, watching. The dining room was lively and full, something I hadn't experienced in a long time. It was nice. If I had a big family like Marco's, every dinner would be chaos like this.

My eyes turned to Francesca, sitting to my right. She was going to have my son next spring, and I couldn't wait. I wanted as many children as she agreed. An only child, I hadn't planned on Giulio being alone, so I wa