January brought quiet.
For the first time in years, Dominic began leaving the mansion before midnight.
He attended Lily’s preschool orientation.
He learned which cereal she liked.
He discovered she hated peas but would eat broccoli if it was called “tiny trees.”
He also read Sophia’s letters.
Every night.
Some were angry.
Some frightened.
Some hopeful.
One was dated two weeks before Lily’s birth.
Dominic read it three times.
Sophia had written that she planned to return to New York after the baby was born.
She had grown tired of fear.
She wanted Lily to know her father.
She believed Dominic would choose them.
The words damaged him in a new way.
He had spent four years imagining Sophia had chosen life without him.
In reality, she had been trying to find courage to come home.
One evening, Dominic called Rosa into the study.
“There’s something I need to ask.”
Rosa sat.
“Did Sophia ever blame me?”
Rosa considered.
“Sometimes.”
Dominic nodded.
“For what?”
“For making your world so dangerous that Lucia’s warnings sounded believable.”
He accepted that.
“She also blamed herself.”
“For leaving?”
“Yes.”
Rosa looked at him.
“But mostly she loved you.”
Dominic looked toward Sophia’s photograph on his desk.
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
Rosa smiled sadly.
“Just don’t waste it.”
That night, Isabella arrived.
She had remained in Dominic’s life but refused to discuss marriage.
They ate dinner with Lily.
Afterward, Lily insisted they watch an animated Christmas movie even though Christmas had ended weeks earlier.
Halfway through, Lily fell asleep between them.
Dominic looked at Isabella.
“I love you.”
Isabella froze.
He continued before fear could stop him.
“I loved Sophia.”
“I know.”
“I’ll probably always love her.”
“I know that too.”
“And I love you differently.”
Isabella studied him.
“Differently how?”
Dominic looked at Lily.
“Sophia was the person who taught me love could make me vulnerable.”
He looked back at Isabella.
“You’re the person who taught me vulnerability doesn’t have to make me weak.”
Isabella’s eyes filled.
Dominic pulled the ring from his pocket.
“I’ve carried this for three weeks.”
She laughed softly.
“That sounds uncomfortable.”
He smiled.
“Isabella Vitorio, will you marry me?”
She looked at Lily.
Then at Dominic.
“One condition.”
“Name it.”
“No giant ballroom engagement party.”
Dominic laughed.
“Agreed.”
“And Lily gets to choose the cake.”
“That seems dangerous.”
“It’s non-negotiable.”
Dominic slipped the ring onto her finger.
“Yes.”
Lily’s sleepy voice interrupted them.
“I want strawberry.”
Both adults looked down.
Lily’s eyes remained closed.
Isabella whispered, “Apparently she heard everything.”
Dominic smiled.
Three months later, Dominic visited Sophia’s grave again.
This time he brought Lily and Isabella.
Lily placed fresh flowers beside the headstone.
Isabella stayed several feet away.
Dominic approached her.
“You don’t have to keep your distance.”
“I thought this was yours.”
“It is.”
He took her hand.
“And you’re part of it now.”
The wedding took place in May.
Not in a cathedral.
Not in a ballroom.
In the mansion garden.
Fifty guests.
No press.
Lily wore a pale blue dress and carried flowers.
She walked down the aisle first.
Then stopped halfway.
“Daddy!”
Dominic crouched.
“What?”
“You forgot something.”
She ran back.
Returned carrying Sophia’s photograph.
Dominic’s throat tightened.
Lily placed it on an empty chair in the front row.
“For Mommy.”
No one spoke.
Isabella wiped tears from her cheeks.
Dominic looked at the photograph.
Then at Lily.
Then at the woman walking toward him.
The past and future finally occupied the same place without destroying each other.