After getting ready, we catch an Uber outside the Club, and it’s still dark when we pull up to the precinct downtown. Once we identify ourselves, they separate us almost immediately. I find myself in the office of Detective Selva, a handsome officer who looks absolutely exhausted. His office is crammed full of folders and papers and a giant, ancient computer monitor. He sits across from me, shoving aside papers to make room for his coffee mug.
“Ms. Jordan,” he says. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Is it?” I ask. “Where’s Theo?”
“In interrogation.”
“He’s innocent.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “We’ll see about that.”
I cross my legs and sit up straight, ready to stand up for Theo, stand up for what’s right, and most importantly, stand up for myself. “Yes,” I tell him confidently. “We will.”
Chapter Twelve
Theodore
The Town Car winds its way slowly through the paths of the cemetery. Outside my window, the sky is bright blue and clear.
“Here,” I tell the driver.
He pulls the car to a stop, and I get out, walking carefully across the grass to the Latsis family plot. I pass my grandparents and Aunt Andromeda, stopping in front of the newest grave. The marble headstone is polished to a shine and decorated with flowers. I run my fingers over the name carved there: Marco Latsis.
This is the first time I’ve been able to work up the nerve to come here. The overwhelming sadness hits me again and I brace myself against the headstone, letting tears water the grass beneath me. Grief is like the ocean. Sometimes, it’s calm and I’m able to keep my head above water, floating effortlessly. But other times, it’s churning and restless, and the waves wash over me until I can’t catch my breath and am sure that I’ll drown.
But I have a life raft.
My wife.
Daphne.
She stands quietly beside me and takes my hand in hers, squeezing lightly, offering me her strength. And I take it because this woman, this princess, has enough to spare. She’s spectacular, brave and loyal, and she’s mine.
Because of her testimony, my name was cleared, and Mac’s killer was brought to justice. Standing up to her family was hard for her, just like standing up for mine wasn’t easy. She still mourns for Ty who has a long future in prison, and she’s working to rebuild her relationship with her parents, but we have a long road ahead of us.
And we will walk the path together.
We’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to figure out what a life together looks like. She’s moved into my apartment on the river with me, but I still catch her longingly scrolling through real estate listings for places in Italy. Both of us still go to work at our respective companies, but we’ve been talking about a merger. Once again, it kind of feels like things are up in the air, but this time, at least, we have control over where they land.
After a few minutes, I kneel and place a wrapped bundle of purple flowers by the headstone.
“There’s something else I wanted to give him,” Daphne says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small, white stick.
“What is it?” I ask her, getting back to my feet.
“Look.” She hands it to me.
I study it, at first not sure what I’m seeing before it clicks. “Is this a pregnancy test?”
She’s smiling at me and wringing her hands. “Yes.”
“And two lines mean…”
“Mean we’re having a baby.”
“A baby.” I blink at the test, then at her.
“Are you happy?”
“Happy?” Clutching the test in my fist, I wrap my arms around her and hug her to me, lifting her off the ground. “This is wonderful news.”
When I release her, she takes the test and kneels, putting it with our flowers. “I thought we could name the baby after Mac,” she says.
“He would have liked that.” I chuckle. “He would have been a shit uncle, but he would have liked that.”
She laughs, too, and says, “It’s okay. We’re all just figuring it out as we go.”
That’s definitely the truth. And besides, what kid doesn’t need an uncle who teaches them cuss words and how to sneak out and how to drink? I’ll have to make sure this baby knows all about Mac and his family, the good and the bad, so he can learn from our mistakes and make better decisions than the people who came before him.
As we say goodbye to Mac and turn back to the car, I pull her close to my side, immeasurably grateful that she’s with me. I’ve been bitter and broken, but now I want to be a prince worthy of my princess and the family that we create.
Together.
Epilogue
Daphne
“Mommy, watch this!”
I lower my sunglasses and peer across the beach as my fearless daughter leaps over a gentle wave. “That’s great, Mac!” I give her a thumbs up and watch as she does it again and again. It’s amazing how fast she’s grown, her chubby, toddler legs lengthening every day, her dark curls already reaching halfway down her back.
As the sun sets, I gather our things and take her by the hand, walking the stone pathway through the tiny village of Ancora on the coast of Sardinia where Theo and I keep our second residence. We make it a point to come here every spring to get away from the pressures of the city and our jobs.
A couple years ago, we merged Latsis Shipping and Jordan Marine, creating the Latsis-Jordan Line, which has monopolized the shipping industry. Together, we are so much stronger than we ever were divided. But it’s been a challenge to balance our family and our work lives. Hence the mandatory annual vacation. This year, Margherita (Mac, for short) and I got away early and have been waiting for Theo to join us.
Our home is in a 19th-century palazzo, rustic on the outside and bright and cozy on the inside, with a balcony overlooking the pristine blue waters. After a dinner of salads made from vegetables picked in our own garden, I read Mac a bedtime story that puts her to sleep quickly. Then, I step out onto the balcony with a bottle of prosecco and my laptop to catch up on some work but end up distracted as I watch the moon rise over the water. The only way this would be any better is if Theo were here.
“Where are you, Theo?” I ask with a sigh.
“Right here,” comes a deep voice behind me. I whirl around, splashing prosecco over my hand, and see my husband standing in the doorway. He looks worn out, but I know a few days in the Italian sun will change that.
He comes out onto the balcony and wraps me up in a hug, kissing first me and then my belly, which is several months pregnant with our son.
“Hello, Donnie,” he says, rubbing a hand over the small bump there.
“Donnie?” I ask. “Really?”
Theo smiles up at me. “Donatello Nicholas Latsis. After our fathers.”
While Ty is still in jail, refusing to talk to me, my dad and I made up just after Mac’s birth. He had a couple years to redeem himself as a father and a grandfather before passing away. My mom and Theo’s parents, though, are wonderful grandparents, and have had no problem putting aside their differences to be in our lives. When we had a vow renewal here in Ancora last year, everyone attended and not a single fight broke out.