This family needed therapy.
Actual therapy.
Not Massimo Genovese's idea of emotional repair. Honestly, if the baby ever asked about family tradition, Veronica was going to lie. Boldly. Without shame.
"I'm so sorry," she cried, bent and kissed him through her tears, messy and trembling, her mouth searching his as if apology could become touch. Luca held on to her carefully, one hand at the back of her neck, the other at her waist.
"You had to say them," he murmured against her lips. His breath was warm against her mouth. "I needed to hear them from you because you are the only one I cannot bear to disappoint." He pulled her closer, kissing her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. "Tonight may not have helped in the way we expected…"
His hand slid lightly over her side. "But you look amazing in that costume. Do you think she'll let us keep it?" he asked.
Vee sniffled. "It's the least she can do."
"Agreed."
"And maybe we keep some of the toys too."
Luca's brows rose.
