Chapter 11 - A NEW MOLD
One year later.
The Chicago winter raged outside, snow piling against the large display windows of Falcone & Co. Fine Jewelers. The shop was warm, smelling of vanilla, hot espresso, and melted gold.
“You’re holding the torch too close,” I scolded gently, leaning over the workbench.
Alessandro cursed softly in Italian, pulling the flame back from the silver pendant he was trying to solder. He wore a heavy canvas apron over a simple white t-shirt, his dark hair falling into his eyes.
“I kill men with my bare hands, but this tiny piece of silver is defeating me,” he muttered, though a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Patience, Mr. Falcone,” I laughed, resting a hand on his shoulder. He immediately leaned back into my touch, dropping the torch and capturing my hand. He pressed a kiss to my knuckles, right over the hammered rose gold band that never left my finger.
The bell chimed. Leah and Maso walked in, shaking snow from their coats. Maso wore a tailored suit now, carrying the weight of the city, but he smiled when he saw us. Leah was holding a box of cannoli.
“Tell me you have espresso,” Leah said, walking to the back counter. “I just pulled a twelve-hour shift.”
“Always,” Alessandro said, standing up to greet his old friend.
I watched them, a profound sense of peace washing over me. The bloody, violent world we had survived felt like a distant nightmare. Camila was safe in Europe, studying art. Maso was keeping the streets quiet. And my husband... my husband was finally home.
May you like
I rested my free hand over my subtly swelling stomach, feeling the tiny, fluttering kick of our daughter.
We had taken a broken, bloody marriage and melted it down. In its place, we had forged something unbreakable.
