She brushed away her remaining tears, a sparkle in her eyes. “Tell me all about him. I want to know everything about your life, Dante.”
They reminisced about the past. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Yet I found myself tuning them out, my attention fully captivated by Gigi. I settled beside her, ignoring the ache in my body, completely lost in her presence.
“You okay?” I asked softly, wrapping my arms around her shoulder and pulling her close.
She looked up at me, her smile radiant, and said, “Yeah, I am.” She rested her hand over my heart, and I covered it with my own.
I captured her lips in a gentle kiss, no tongues, just a lingering connection that spoke volumes of the love I held for her, the kind that would endure until my last breath.
She was the angel sent from heaven, my sweetest temptation who craved the darkness, and I was the devil born seeking peace amidst the chaos. My true obsession was the peace I had been searching for all along.
It was hard to believe that a month had passed since everything changed. Tabi and Tristan returned home, and even Mya returned to work.
Uncle Malik, on the other hand, had settled in with Dante. Even Liam decided to move back home with his father. He admitted it felt strange and lonely without me across the hall.
Meanwhile, Mom and Dad started spending more time together, trying to reconnect. It had been undeniably sweet watching Dad, the big, bad mafia king, stumble over his words whenever he was near Mom. And as for Valarie, she would move wherever her sister went.
Shaking the thoughts aside, I returned to getting dressed when there was a soft knock at the door. It slowly opened, and Mom peeked in making her seem like a disembodied floating head.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, baby,” she replied, stepping inside and closing the guest room door behind her.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She looked amazing. It still felt surreal to see my mother alive and well. It was like my broken heart was slowly stitching itself back together.
Her eyes sparkled brighter than I remembered, and she just seemed lighter and happier. She wore a red V-neck top that hugged her figure, a chic light leather jacket, dark jeans, and red heels that made her look effortlessly stylish. I’d never seen her dress like this before. Back in Canada, she was all about the comfy, casual look.
“Wow, you’re looking hot, Mom,” I teased.
She chuckled, a big smile spreading across her face. “Thank you."
“Does a certain Italian god have anything to do with it?” I winked at her, raising my eyebrows playfully.
“Oh, god.” She rolled her eyes. “Don't let your father hear you call him that.”
We both burst into laughter. It was refreshing after everything we had been through.
“Got any plans today?” she asked.
“Not really. You?” I replied, leaning back in the chair beside my violin.
“Well, your father and I are heading out for dinner, and we’d love for you to join us.”
“Yeah, I’d love that,” I said.
“Good.”
“Have you considered whether you’ll stay in Chicago or return to Canada?” I ventured.
“What about you?” she countered, her gaze steady. “Have you considered going back home?”
I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “Probably not.”
“Not even to see Kara again?” she prodded gently.
Her question hit me hard. I had thought about it countless times, but the thought of facing her—of seeing her reaction to me being alive—felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.
