38. Stefania

Davide sleeps in the next morning. All it took was a vicious beating to finally make him take a break. I'm up early, curled around a mug of coffee, and watching the oasis wake up from the front window. Soldiers wander down the block and more hover on rooftops smoking cigarettes and talking on phones. It wasn't this active when I first came here, but this war's getting everyone on edge and security is twice as tight.

I make coffee and lurk around the kitchen until I work up the nerve to make pancakes. Davide comes downstairs around the time I'm finished, and he kisses me on the cheek before sitting down at the island with a grunt, one hand pressed against his broken ribs.

"Doctor said I needed a lot of carbs to fully recover," he says as I slide a plate in front of him.

"Pretty sure he didn't say that."

"Carbs and blowjobs. His exact words." He waves a fork at me. "You do care about my recovery, don't you?"

I snort and kiss him gently. "Not even a little bit. You dick."

He laughs as I get him some coffee the way he likes, a little bit of milk and nothing else. He's in a much better mood, and some decent sleep seems to have done him wonders. I spend the morning with him talking about everything but what's important, and he keeps on trying to make me laugh, and I keep on letting him, because I want to feel normal for a little while. And anyway, it feels good to let him joke around, because the guy can be funny when he wants to be.

We end up on the couch together with nothing on the TV, just the two of us sitting together. I ask him questions about his family; he tells me stories about growing up in the city. I tell him stories of my own, about having four asshole older brothers, about being the ignored baby in the family, about being a part of Philadelphia royalty. At some point we're talking about nothing in that easy-lazy-happy way people get sometimes, chatting about everything and meandering all around, laughing and holding hands, and I can almost forget how I felt the night before.

But doing this with him only reminds me of all the mornings I've missed these last couple weeks and all the lonely evenings I have stretching out ahead of me.

There's a knock and I want to ignore it, but Davide insists I get up and see who it is. "Unless you want to make your poor, injured husband do it for you?"

"I thought you were fine," I quip as I get to my feet.

He pulls me back with a growl and presses his mouth to mine. "I am fine, baby," he whispers, which we both know is bullshit.

I go to the door, smiling to myself because despite how annoyed I am with him, that was a really good kiss. And I'm buzzing a bit on having the Davide I'm falling for around, which means I'm far from a level headspace when I open the door to find my brother Saul staring back at me.

It's like seeing a palm tree in the middle of the desert with no water for miles. How did he get here? What the hell is he doing standing on my stoop? This oasis is so far from Saul and Philadelphia, and it just feels weird, having him standing there and looking at me with that insanely familiar smile of his.

My big brother.

"Hey, Stef," he says. "Freddie told me you were home and said I could just stop over. Is this a bad?—"

I slam the door in his face.

My heart's racing up into my throat. Saul's here, he's standing at my house, and I haven't heard from him in weeks, but he's suddenly here.

When I first moved in, all I could think about was this exact moment. I dreamed that one of my brothers would show up, usually Saul or Renzo, and they'd tell me this whole nightmare was just some test, and they'd bring me back home.

Except as the days passed and I didn't hear anything from them, it became clear that was only a delusion and would never, ever happen.

"Stefania," Davide says. He's standing behind the couch, one hand pressed to his injured ribs, and frowning. "Let your brother in."

I turn on him and raise a finger. "Don't get on my case, okay?"

"Come on. You can't slam the door on him. Just open up."

"No." I put my hands on my hips, aware that I'm being stupid and stubborn. "I'm mad at him."

Davide sighs and limps over. "Baby, I know, I get it. You feel betrayed. But he's here now, okay? You might as well hear him out."

I shake my head and put my hands on his chest to keep him from getting to the door. "I don't want to hear him out. He hasn't called, he hasn't texted, I haven't even gotten a fucking email. Screw them. I'm a Bianco now, right?"

He laughs and kisses my cheek. "Yeah, you're a Bianco, alright. Stubborn as fuck. Now let your damn brother in."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You'll regret it. Just talk to him." He kisses me again. "I'll be upstairs."

"Wait." I hold onto his shirt. But why am I so worried? It's Saul, my older brother. We've always been pretty close. Only I don't know what the hell I'm going to say to him.

Davide gently extracts himself from me and heads up the stairs. I watch him go before turning back and yanking the door open, annoyed with myself.

Saul's still there. He looks sheepish. "Should we try again?" he asks.

"Tell me what the fuck you're doing here first."

"I wanted to check on you."

"You could've called." I start closing the door.

"Wait!" He pushes it back open and forces his way inside. He glances around at the huge, open room, before sighing. "Okay, you have every right to be pissed. I told Renzo this was a bad idea, but he said it would be easier if we gave you space. Carlo called him a cocksucking piece of shit, and Gian said nothing but you know how he can communicate with like his eyebrows and he was communicating nothing but disapproval, but the Don's word is law. I'm sorry, Stef, I really am."

I glare at him. It's a likely story. No, really, it's extremely likely—that sounds exactly like a dumbass thing my brothers would do. "You ignored me for my own good. Gee, that feels great."

"I know. I know. It's fucked. Does it help if Renzo doesn't know I'm here?"

"A little bit. I didn't know you had the balls to go against the Don's wishes."

He grins at me. "Seriously. How are you?"

I want to stay pissed, but it's Saul, and I've been dying to tell someone from my family about what my life's been like since coming out here. I bring him inside, give him some coffee, call him a dick a few more times, and end up telling him all about the Biancos, and especially about Davide.

It comes out in a rush. He laughs pretty hard when I tell him the Giorgia story. "That girl's an absolute psycho," he says, shaking his head.

I don't ask him about home. Halfway through the conversation, I realize I don't really care what's happening back there. I mean, I hope Carlo and Gian and even Renzo are happy, that my nieces and nephews are all good, that their wives are thriving, but I don't feel like I'm missing anything.

"Okay, now it's time to admit why you're really here," I say after we've been talking for an hour, and Saul sighs.

"I'm meeting with Alessandro and Simon to go over war logistics," he admits. "It's a business thing. But I swear, the second Renzo let me fly over, I planned on seeing you."

"What a great big brother." I smirk at him and sip some coffee. "So what were you expecting?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I thought you might be more… I don't know. You seem good, honestly."

"I am good," I say and look toward the stairs. Davide's up there giving us some room to talk, which I appreciate.

"Maybe you should come back with me to Philly," he says suddenly. "I mean, if you're acclimating here, maybe you can come visit. And if this war is as bad as I think it might be?—"

"Absolutely not," I say, cutting him off sharply, and he looks as surprised as I feel.

That's not the reaction I expected to have.

Saul's offering me the chance to go home, which is basically all I've wanted since getting off the plane in Chicago. It might only be a visit, but still, two months ago I would've thrown myself at the chance.

Now, I can't imagine leaving here.

Not with things the way they are. Not with my relationship with Davide blossoming into whatever the fuck this is. Not with the war looming. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to him while I was away.

Because I care about him. And I care about his family. Freddie and Elena, even Simon and Alessandro, and Laura in a weird way. They've made me feel welcome—well, Laura hasn't, she's actually tried to do the opposite—and I've fallen for them just like I've fallen for my husband.

"Are you sure?" he asks, shaking his head. "I kind of figured you'd be happy."

"I'm sure. My place is here. Maybe if you had called me?—"

"How many times am I going to apologize for that?"

"A dozen more, you fucking asshole." I grin at him and punch his arm. "But really. I can't leave, even if that offer means a lot."

He sits back and studies me for a second, a sly smile on his face. I hate that stupid look. "Well, alright," he says. "Seems like you're happier here than you're letting on."

"Oh, shut up," I say, shaking my head, but I'm smiling too, because he's right. I'm happy here. I want to be here with my husband and his family.

This is where I belong.