Page 108 of My Dark Ever After

It still blew my mind that Dad was a Pietra. That he’d killed and stolen and lied, all elements he had raised his daughters to abhor.

“Again, if you’d told us, we might have made different decisions,” I said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But we didn’t realize you were so headstrong. Our mistake.”

“Gemma was too,” I reminded her. “I’m surprised she didn’t visit Italy too.”

It would have been just like her to go to the country our father hated just to prove she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

“She didn’t, and she still died,” Mom murmured, twisting a grapevine between her fingers.

I pressed into her side, so she lifted an arm to curl it around me.

“I miss her all the time,” I confessed. “Being here ... it makes me feel closer to her. She always encouraged me to break out of my shell and explore. She would be proud of me, I think.”

Mom sighed again but pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “She would. As am I.”

I frowned, tipping my head back to look up at her, and found her beautiful face was more solemn than I had seen it in years, since those months I’d spent so sick in the hospital.

“I know you don’t understand why we kept all this from you, but we had our reasons, and they were justified, if a little misguided. Your life has already been so difficult, sweetheart. Unlucky as you’ve been in health, we thought to spare you from the dangers of your dad’s past life.”

I could understand that, even if I didn’t like it. Not having children of my own, I could not begin to comprehend what it must be like to want to keep them safe.

I only know how I felt about Raffa. The lengths I would go to in order to protect him.

There was no limit on that, and so there must have been no limit on what my parents would do to protect Gemma and me.

“I get that,” I told her. “But that doesn’t change what’s happened. I came to Italy, and I found myself here. I won’t be going back with you.”

Mom laughed a little, surrendering. “Yes, your father told me you’d said that. Even with the danger, Jinx? Is he really worth being ...torturedas you were?” Her smooth, cool hand cupped my cheek. “Is it really worth knowing you could die because of him?”

“Yes,” I said simply. “When life isn’t worth living without him.”

She sucked a breath in between her teeth, eyes shining. “Oh, damn. Why did you have to go and have your father’s heart?”

“Dad’s?” I asked, surprised. “I used to think we were so much alike, but now ... it feels like we are strangers.”

“Oh no,” she corrected, taking my hand to walk along the vines again. “Your father fell in love with me when he started to travel to Albania to do business with the Mafia there. He told me it was love at first sight the day we met at my parents’ vineyard, where he was having lunch. We both knew we could not be together, but your father didn’t care. He told me he would move heaven and earth to be with me, and he did. When I found out I was pregnant with Gemma, he decided to give up everything he’d ever known to keep his new family safe. We leftfor the US two weeks after I handed him the pregnancy test. He never spoke to anyone from his old world again, but I knew it had to have pained him. He never seemed to regret it, and he never made me feel guilty for his sacrifice.”

My chest hurt, filled like a balloon close to bursting.

“You are willing to give up everything you’ve ever known for your Raffa, just as your father was for me,” she said softly, stopping to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “So I know nothing I say will stop you, even though I wish I could because I want you safe and close more than anything.”

“He’s not a bad man,” I told her in a threadbare voice. “In fact, he’s the best man I know.”

“So is your father,” she said. “I understand, honey. More than I can say. I won’t stand between you and happiness.”

“And Dad?”

Her sigh stirred my hair, and she held me close. “Your father will take some more convincing. We are going to stay here for a while, I think. If you mean to make a life here, we want to make sure it’s a good one. I won’t be able to drag him home until he sees with his own eyes that Raffa is good enough for you.”

“You might be here forever, then,” I quipped. “Dad doesn’t seem inclined to like a Romano based on principle.”

“The only time I’ve ever seen your father cry is for you girls,” she said firmly, cupping my face so I had to look into her warm hazel eyes. “His number one priority in life is seeing you well. Give him a chance, and he’ll give you and Raffa one.”

“I can do that,” I allowed, shifting to throw one of her arms around my shoulder so we could keep walking. “So, Mom, were you ever tortured for Dad? Maybe we can trade notes.”

Her laugh rang out over the rows of grapevines and soared deep into the heart of the valley below us. I thought the sound suited this space, the marriage of my old family and new coming together in a way I had never believed possible.