Page 52

STEFI

Three years later

I never thought I’d be an overprotective, hovering mother, but it turns out I am. Considering the circumstances, can you blame me? But as protective as I am of my two babies, when Joao suggests a weekend away for our twelfth wedding anniversary, just the two of us, I’m tempted.

So tempted.

Does it have something to do with the fact that Magali is going through her terrible twos phase? Yes, it does. I love my daughter with all my heart, but the last couple of months have been a lot. Almost overnight, my sweet toddler has turned into a yelling, kicking, and screaming monster. She doesn’t want to get dressed—she’d rather run around naked. She doesn’t want to eat the food I make her—if it’s not either pancakes or French fries, she’s not interested.

And worst of all, she’s stopped sleeping through the night.

I shouldn’t complain. I’m fortunate enough to have a ton of help. Christopher is more responsible than any ten-year-old has a right to be, and he’s happy to play with his baby sister for hours on end. If Joao and I want to go out for dinner, Charlie is always ready to watch her, and Lucia Moretti has Magali over for a playdate with her daughter Anna-Teresa at least once a week.

And despite all that, I’m exhausted.

Probably has something to do with turning thirty. Joao and I both reached that improbable milestone this year, something that we thought would never happen.

“We can’t go away,” I say regretfully. “Who’ll watch Magali?”

Charlie looks up from the book she’s reading. “I will,” she says. “And Christopher will help too. Right, Chris?”

He nods.

“You’re volunteering to watch Magali for the whole weekend?” I ask Charlie disbelievingly. “You do know what you’re getting yourself into, don’t you? You have heard her scream all night long?”

“Don’t worry,” she replies airily. “We’ll handle it. If she’s bad, we’ll just tie her to her crib.”

“Sure, but—” I start to say, and then her words sink in. “Wait, what? What are you planning to do to my daughter?”

Joao snorts a laugh. Christopher shakes his head, a small smile playing about his lips. “That was so awesome,” Charlie says through a flood of giggles. “You should have seen your face. Don’t worry, Stefi, we can handle Magali. Besides, she always behaves for her big brother.”

I look at my son. “What do you think?”

He nods again. “I think you should go. You deserve a nice trip away.”

My heart melts. For all of Christopher’s quietness, he’s grown into such a thoughtful, steady boy. It’s moments like this that remind me of how far he’s come in the last three years.

“So?” Joao says expectantly. “What do you think?”

I don’t know. . . Oh, what the hell. “Let’s do it.”

Joao smiles widely. “Perfect,” he says. “I’ll make the arrangements.” He looks at Christopher. “Whatever you do, do not let Charlie tie Magali to the bed.”

A rare smile crosses our son’s face, and I get a sudden sense of the man he’s going to be when he grows up. Under his stoic facade, he’s deeply protective of the people he loves. “I won’t.”

Joao won’t tell me where we’re going. I ask him several times in the days leading up to our wedding anniversary, and he always shakes his head. “It’s a surprise, little fox.”

“I don’t like surprises,” I grumble.

“No,” he says sunnily. “You love them.”

He’s not wrong about that. “If I don’t know where we’re going, how will I know what clothes to pack?”

He gives me a slow smile that warms me up from the inside out. “Stefi, we’re going to be alone for the first time in three years. Trust me, you won’t need clothes.”

My pulse speeds up at his tone. As any parent to a young toddler probably knows, sex can sometimes take a back seat to everything else. And while I love being a mom, I do miss the version of me that did crazy things like give Joao a blowjob in a busy Polish nightclub.

“We’re going to spend the entire weekend naked?” I ask, my voice coming out breathless. “We can’t do that. We’ll have to eat sometime, right?”

“Wrong,” he says, winking at me. “What a sad lack of imagination, Stefi. If we need food, we’ll just order room service.”

It’s not until we get to the airport Saturday morning and check in for our flight that I discover where we’re going. Berlin.

“Berlin?” I ask curiously. I haven’t been to Germany for ages, not since I got shot in Nuremberg. “Why Berlin?”

“We’re not staying there,” Joao replies. “We’re going to rent a car and cross the border into Pol?—”

“Wait, are we going to Szczecin?” I ask, my face breaking out into a delighted smile. “I was just thinking about that dance club we visited. Remember it? That was a fun night.” The blowjob at the nightclub was followed by a visit to a sex store, and then we had a ‘who’s going to get out of a set of handcuffs first’ contest, which ended in more sex. Even now, if I think about the things Joao did to me that night, I start to blush.

“No comment.” Joao gives me an amused glance. “I already gave too much away. I’m not saying anything else that’s going to ruin the surprise.”

It’s a short flight to Berlin. I settle in my seat and close my eyes for a second, and before I know it, we’re landing. “Sorry about falling asleep on you,” I say ruefully. “I’ll be better company from now on, I promise.”

“You’re fine.” He takes my backpack from me and leads the way toward the rental car counters. “You couldn’t have had any sleep last night.”

I didn’t. Joao woke up to deal with Magali most of the week, so last night, I was determined to let him get a full night’s rest. “I’m fine,” I lie through my teeth.

“Sure you are.”

At the rental car terminal, he takes care of the paperwork and collects the keys, then he leads the way to our car and gets behind the wheel. “Tell you what. I’ll drive, and you can take a nap. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Szczecin is a couple of hours away from Berlin. A two-hour nap sounds amazing. “You’re sure?”

He kisses the top of my head. “I’m absolutely sure.”

Despite Joao’s offer, I fully intend to stay awake on the drive. But my husband knows me better than I know myself, because the moment we hit the highway, my eyes tug shut.

When I wake up, we’re not in Szczecin.

We’re in front of the farmhouse, the one we squatted in for a week while we were on the run.

My mouth falls open with shock and I stare at my husband in disbelief. “Is this. . .”

Joao grins proudly. “Yes, it is.” He gets out and comes around to open the passenger side door. “Your palace awaits, milady.”

I step out and take in the building in front of me. The farmhouse has always occupied a special place in my heart. This is where Joao and I came together, this is where I fell in love with him all over again, this is where Magali was conceived. . .

I never thought I’d see this place again. I can’t believe we’re here.

Time has been kind to the farmhouse. The chimney isn’t a crumbling wreck any longer, and the glass in the windowpanes looks new. The wood on the front door has been polished until it gleams. I stare at it, taking in the changes, and then I clue in. “Crap, it isn’t abandoned—it looks like someone’s put in a lot of work into fixing it up. We better leave before the new owners. . .”

Then I register the grin on Joao’s face and my words trail away. “Who are the new owners, Joao?”

My husband hands me a thick brass key. “We are,” he says. “And it better look amazing. You won’t believe the number of times I’ve had to call the contractor.” He pushes me gently toward the front door. “Come on. You’re going to want to see the inside.”

The inside has been transformed. Gone are the mouse droppings, the spider webs, and the gloom. Instead, there are soaring ceilings, exposed wooden beams, and twin skylights flooding the room with natural light. The fireplace that gave us warmth is still there, but it’s been fixed up, with blue and white tiles lining the edge. The furniture has been chosen for comfort. Plush sofas and oversized armchairs invite you to sink in and relax.

“How?” I splutter.

“Happy anniversary, little fox.”

I spin around. “Joao, this is. . . amazing. This is the best surprise.”

“And you haven’t even seen it all yet. Come on, let’s look around.”

We climb up the stairs, and Joao throws a door open. “Our bedroom,” he announces.

“I hardly recognize it without a tree sticking through the ceiling,” I quip. I start to look around, but then my attention is caught by something in the back yard. I walk to the window and look down. “Joao, there’s a tent in the garden.”

“Huh,” he says innocently, joining me at the window and brushing a kiss over my lips. “Yeah, you’re right. Imagine that.”

I’m not buying that tone—not even for an instant. “What have you planned?”

He takes my hand in his, his thumb stroking the plain golden band on my ring finger. “We never had the wedding of your dreams,” he says quietly. “And you never complained, but I know you wanted one.”

“Sure, but it doesn’t matter.” I never want Joao to feel like I lack for anything. “The trappings are fun, but a wedding is just a big party.” I give him a tremulous smile. “What’s important is the marriage that follows, and I have the marriage of my dreams.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a big party,” he replies. “So, I thought, how could I give you this, and then it struck me that we could have a renewal ceremony.” He stares into my eyes, his expression serious, yet tender. “The odds of us making it to thirty were bleak, and yet, here we are. Not just alive, not just surviving, but thriving. Our bellies aren’t empty. We have a roof over our head, and a house filled with laughter. We have a family now, Charlie, Christopher, and Magali. Don’t you think that’s worth celebrating?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “I do,” I whisper. “I really do. A wedding renewal? Here?”

He smiles as brilliantly as the sun. “What better place?” he asks. He tugs me toward the closet and throws open the door. Three long white dresses hang there. “We spied—okay, Charlie spied—on your Pinterest board, but?—”

Once again, my mouth falls open. “I only had a wedding Pinterest board to help Alina out,” I mutter defensively.

“Of course,” he says, biting back his smile. “Anyway, we weren’t sure which style was your favorite, so Rosa made a version of all three.”

My head snaps up. “How?” I ask, my voice faint. I know Rosa Tran because she’s married to Leo, the mafia enforcer, but she’s a famous fashion designer and she’s booked up for years. “But her waitlist. . . How did she find time to do this?”

He shrugs. “Family,” he says simply. His phone buzzes, and he looks down at the screen. “And speaking of family, that’s the convoy now.”

It’s one amazing surprise after another, and my head is spinning. “Convoy?”

“Come downstairs, and you’ll see.”

I rush downstairs, and just as I look out of the front window, a line of cars pulls into the driveway, and people start to get out. Charlie emerges from the first car, carrying a squirming Magali, a wide grin covering her face. Christopher gets out from the other side, wearing a tuxedo, his hair neatly combed.

Antonio, Lucia, and their daughter Anna-Teresa get out from the car behind them. Dante, Valentina, and Angelica aren’t far behind, as are Tomas and Alina. Then there’s Leo and Rosa, Daniel, Matteo, Ignazio, Paulina, Goran, and Marta.

And all the women are wearing dresses in shades of yellow. . .

Because it’s my favorite color.

As much as I want to hold it together, I can’t. I turn around in Joao’s arms and hold him tight, tears rolling unchecked down my cheeks.

I’m tearing up because all of our Venice family is here, and I didn’t realize it until now, but I’ve always wanted this. It’s not the dress or the flowers or the cake—it’s this feeling of standing up in front of your family and friends to declare that you’ve chosen each other, and you’ll stand by each other for the rest of your life.

“You did this,” I whisper, my voice trembling with all the emotion swelling in my heart. “How did you know this is what I’ve always wanted?”

He squeezes my hand. “Because I’m very clever,” he says with a smirk. Then his expression turns serious, and his voice drops low. “And maybe because I’ve always wanted this too.”

We renew our vows in a flower-filled garden. Charlie, Christopher, and Magali walk down the aisle with me to give me away, and Daniel acts as our officiant.

Joao looks like he’s on the verge of tearing up as he takes my hand in his. He’s doing better than me—I’m straight up weeping.

When I was ten, I saw a nun pull a knife on a skinny kid. I’d seen him around the compound, and I knew his name was Joao. But I never talked to him. He wasn’t my friend, after all. He was a boy, and they were mostly just annoying.

Helping him was the smartest thing I did.

Joao and I have been through hell and back in the twelve years of our marriage. And we’re still here. Still in love. Together, standing back-to-back, us against the rest of the world.

And I know I’m going to love him forever.

The party that follows is loud and chaotic. Polish pop blares on the speakers, a sly nod to the Szczecin nightclub that makes me blush.

Magali and Anna-Teresa run around the garden like two riotous butterflies, trampling flowerbeds and stuffing raspberries into their mouths, while Christopher and Angelica chase after them to minimize the chaos they leave in their wake. Magali’s pretty party dress is already torn, of course, and Anna-Teresa’s has a big mud stain down the front.

Lucia is looking at her daughter with resignation in her eyes. Rosa has her arm around Leo and is listening to something Ali is saying. Ignazio is in conversation with Matteo, but he keeps looking at Charlie when he thinks no one is watching. Charlie is pretending to ignore him, but she keeps sneaking glances at him too. Tomas and Matteo are laughing over a beer, and Daniel is, no surprise, reading something on his phone.

Joao comes over with a couple of bottles of beer. “I’m not going to lie: this beer is a little tasteless.” He winks at me. “If you have any suggestions on how to fix that. . .”

Heat creeps up my cheeks, and I smile up at my husband. “I do.” I glance at the chaos unfolding in the garden—Magali chasing Anna-Teresa with sticky raspberry fingers, Christopher valiantly trying to keep them out of trouble—and then back at Joao, and then I put my arm around his waist. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll show you. The bathroom door has a lock, doesn’t it?”

A look of shock flits over his face, and then he starts to laugh. “The smartest thing I ever did was ask you to marry me,” he says appreciatively, clinking the neck of his bottle against mine. “Let’s go, little fox. Show me what you’ve got.”

Thank you for reading The Hunter.