95

Francesca

I was worried the whole time he was gone.

When Fausto was ready to return, I walked back and forth in the entrance while Nestor leaned against the wall, watching me. He didn't leave my side during my husband's absence, except when I used the bathroom. I knew this was to keep me safe, but I preferred to have Faust's gaze on me.

After scolding me for scratching the entrance tile, Zia dragged me into the kitchen to order chicken in lemon sauce and a portion of roasted eggplant. She had a tartufo for dessert, which reminded me of Giulio and our dinner when I was first in Siderno. I started to tear myself apart.

Zia shook her head at me. - He is better. He's a good boy, but he never liked this life, not like he should to lead. Your child will take over when the time is right.

That was a conversation for another day. There was no way I was deciding my son's fate like that. I didn't care what Fausto said—our children would make their own decisions.

“It's the hormones,” I told her.