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“I’m looking at flights as we speak. I could book one for tomorrow.”
“Then take that one. You should meet your nephew.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He cleared his throat. “See you then.”
His voice was almost friendly. Maybe he and I would find a way to start over.
I picked five of the fifty photos plus a video I had taken and sent them to Danilo, Sofia, Giorgia, my parents, and Emma’s mother, then I hesitated.
“You look sad,” Emma whispered, startling me.
She gave me a tired smile.
“Not sad. A little wistful, perhaps.”
“Why?”
“I just sent our families and Giorgia a few photos, and I realized one person was missing.”
“Serafina.”
I nodded.
I hadn’t messaged her in almost a year, but I realized that I didn’t want to strike her out of my life completely.
“Send her a message. I’m sure she’d love to see Sergio.”
I nodded. She would be happy for me. She had kept writing me even though I never replied. I picked a few photos that didn’t give any hints to our exact whereabouts, then sent them to my twin.
To my surprise, she came online almost instantly and replied.
Oh Sam. He looks like you as a baby. I’m so happy for you.
Emma took my hand and squeezed. After a moment, I put my phone aside. I’d message Fina again later. Right now, I wanted to focus on my wife and son.
Emma’s eyelids fluttered again.
“Sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
Emma nodded, her lids drooping.
Once again, I was in awe of my wife as I watched her hold our son. I was overwhelmed with gratitude and happiness, and also with a lot of smugness because Emma giving me an heir would piss off all the gossip girls who thought she was a bad deal when I married her. I would have still worshipped her—even if she hadn’t been able to do so, something these ignorant scarecrows would never understand—but flaunting our happiness in their faces would definitely be very satisfying.
Emma had always taken their rumors and tasteless comments with dignity, not deigning them with a reaction. I’d often wanted to lash out at them and still wanted to, but I knew it wasn’t what Emma wanted. She was too classy and way better than any of them.
They didn’t bother looking past her wheelchair. Fools. In the very beginning, before I’d gotten to know her, I’d definitely shared some of their ignorance.
Now I only saw Emma, the woman who’d helped me claw my way out of a dark place where I’d started feeling way too at home. The woman who’d stood by me with love and patience even when I failed, even when I lied to her to hide my failing.
The people who only saw her wheelchair, who thought that piece of metal defined who she was and told them anything about her as a person, I pitied them because they missed out.
Emma was the strongest human I’d ever met. She fought her battles with grace, a trait I was still trying to adopt but often failed at. She was a survivor, and it showed every day. She’d taught me how to be one too, how to survive guilt and addiction and come out stronger.
Emma and our son looked peaceful in sleep, and I too felt at peace at that moment.
I didn’t believe in fate, but there was no other explanation for what had happened. I knew with certainty that Emma was theperfect woman for me, the only woman who could have helped me the way Emma did.
She was my fate, and every dark moment of my life had led me to her, which was why I could finally make peace with my past.
I kissed her hand that I was still holding. I had arrived in the present. Finally.
THE END