Chapter 9 - The Broken Diamond BraceletLater that evening, after the grand reception at the Drake Hotel had wound down into soft jazz music, clinking crystal, and lively laughter, Luca and I stood together on the private master terrace of our Prairie Avenue mansion.
A gentle winter breeze rustled the sheer curtains behind us, carrying the clean, crisp scent of Lake Michigan and the distant twinkling lights of the city skyline below.
Inside the softly lit salon, Anna was sitting by the fire, holding Grace in her arms, softly singing that ancient Sicilian lullaby as her daughter rested soundly against her chest.
Luca held me from behind, his arms wrapped securely around my waist, his chin resting gently on my shoulder.
My left hand rested over his, the platinum and sapphire rings catching the silver glow of the Midwestern moon.
“Are you tired, Donna Emma?” Luca whispered into my ear.
I leaned back against the broad, solid warmth of his chest, smiling up at the starlit sky, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against my shoulder blades.
I thought of the crowded dining room, the brown paper package in the trash, the fifteen dollars an hour in my pocket, and the moment a man with dark gray eyes had looked at his sister and asked what choice had been made.
“Not anymore, Luca,” I whispered back, turning in his arms to cup his rugged face in my hands. “Tonight, I’m finally home.”
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He smiled—the soft, peaceful smile of a sovereign whose wars were won and whose soul was finally whole—and kissed his wife beneath the Midwestern stars.
THE END
