Page 159 of The Temptation

I reach for Lucia’s hand when I stop at his headstone, because I need her strength in the moment to hold it together.

The headstone is tall and polished black marble, its surface smooth and almost reflective in the sunlight. Intricate carvings frame the edges, curling around my father’s name and dates of his birth and death.

Above it, a finely sculpted Madonna watches over the gravesite, her expression serene. A silent witness to a life cut short.

I give myself a moment to take it all in before I crouch down and run the tips of my fingers over his name.

“Hi, Dad,” I whisper, a knot tightening in my throat. “We never got to meet, but I’d like to think you would’ve loved me if we did.”

The words come out choked, and I clear my throat, trying to keep it together.

For fuck’s sake, I swore I wouldn’t break down here.

Tears blur my vision, and I feel Lucia’s hand tighten on my shoulder.

I wish I could say I hope he’s proud of me, of the man I’ve become. But I can’t say it out loud because I’ve done some pretty shitty things. Things he may be ashamed of, but I shove those thoughts down.

Right now, all that matters is this moment.

The ManciniFamigliasaved me in ways I could never repay. I simply did the best I could under the circumstances.

I clench my eyes closed for a moment, suck in a sharp breath, and try to settle the storm that rages inside me.

“She never got over you,” I finally manage to say before pushing myself to my feet.

I remember once, when I was a kid, my mum told me she named me Romeo because of the way things ended with my dad. She said it felt tragic, like something out of a story that never got finished.

Back then, I didn’t really get it, but now, as I stand here with her ashes in my hands, I do. Because for her, that name reminded her of the love that never had a chance to become anything more. Like Romeo and Juliet, two people who found something real, only to have it ripped away before it could truly begin.

My nostrils flare as I expel all the air from my lungs and unscrew the lid on my mother’s urn.

“I hope you both find eternal happiness and peace,” I say, my voice low as I tip out the contents.

Her ashes catch the breeze, soft and weightless, drifting down onto the earth in front of his headstone. It’s so quiet, just us, the wind, the trees, and the sound of something in me finally letting go.

When I’m done, I replace the lid and bend to set down the urn beside my father’s headstone.

It’s simple, matte black ceramic, with a soft, smooth finish. It’s shaped like a teardrop, rounded at the bottom andnarrowing at the top. There’s a small silver band just below the lid, with her name engraved into the metal.

Elena Vitale

I never carried her last name. De Luca was my father’s. Interestingly, Vitale means ‘life-giving’. And now that I’ve laid her to rest beside the man she loved, it feels like this whole fucked-up, tangled mess has finally come full circle.

And maybe for the first time ever, I’m thankful she gave me life, because if she didn’t, I never would’ve known what it feels like to love and be loved by the woman who is now tucked into my side.

When we leave the cemetery, I take the back roads intentionally. They stretch out in front of us, vast, empty, and sun-soaked. Nothing but asphalt and the horizon before us.

I grip the wheel with one hand and shift gears with the other, the engine responds instantly, roaring like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.

Lucia leans back in the seat, the wind is tugging at her long hair through the open window, and a small smile plays on her lips.

I press my foot down. The Ferrari launches forward, the force pinning us back as the speed climbs to 100, 110, 120, 130, 140. The sound is pure adrenaline, deep and clean like thunder in my chest.

I love this fucking car, but I love the woman sitting beside me more.

I fought my feelings for so long, convinced I didn’tdeserve something good or real. But Lucia was right. On the other side of fear, you can find happiness. I’m proof of that.

And right now, with her hand resting on my thigh, the wind in our faces, and the engine humming beneath us, I finally believe it.