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“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, though my voice came out rougher than I intended. “I just... I needed to see you.”
Her expression softened immediately, concern melting into something tender. “I miss you,” she whispered, shifting so she was sitting up against the headboard, one hand resting on the swell of her belly. “How did it go with Giovanni?”
“It went.” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the words. “He wants me to stay. Help him with this mess with the Golden Skulls and Bianchi.”
Her face tightened with worry. “And what did you tell him?”
“That I’d think about it.” I couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t stop drinking in every detail of her face. The way her lips parted slightly when she was anxious. The way her eyes searched mine, trying to read everything I wasn’t saying. “But I’m not staying, Madigan. I can’t.”
“Salvatore.”
“I can’t,” I repeated, my voice breaking slightly. “I can’t be here, away from you. I can’t pretend that this life matters more than what we have. More than what we’re building.”
She was quiet for a moment, her hand moving in slow circles over her belly. “I’m scared,” she admitted finally. “Scared that they’ll pull you back in. That you’ll get hurt. That—” Her voice caught. “That you won’t come back to me.”
“I will always come back to you.” I said it with every ounce of certainty I possessed. “Always, Madigan. You and our baby... you’re everything. You’re the only thing that matters.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them back, trying to smile. “I hate that you’re there. I hate that you’re in that house, surrounded by all of it again.”
“I know. I hate it too.” I leaned closer to the screen, as if I could somehow close the distance between us. “Tell me about your day. Tell me something good.”
She let out a shaky breath. Her smile became more genuine. “The baby kicked today. A lot. I think he’s getting stronger.”
“Yeah?” The ache in my chest intensified, but this time it was different. Sweeter. “I wish I could have felt it.”
“Me too.” She placed her hand flat against her belly. “He’s been moving all evening. I think he misses you too.”
“I miss you.” I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to book a flight back to Montana right then, consequences be damned. “I miss waking up next to you. I miss your voice. I miss the way you look at me like I’m not—” I stopped, the words catching in my throat.
“Like you’re not what?” she prompted gently.
“Like I’m not broken,” I finished quietly. “Like I’m worth something more than what I can do for the family.”
Her eyes filled with tears again, and this time they spilled over. “You are worth so much more, Salvatore. You’re everything to me. You’re going to be an amazing father. You’re already an amazing husband.”
“I don’t feel amazing right now,” I admitted. “I feel like I’m being torn in half. Like no matter what I choose, I’m going to lose something.”
“Then choose us,” she said, her voice fierce despite the tears. “Choose us, Salvatore. Choose the life we’re building. Choose peace over violence. Choose love over duty.”
“I am choosing you,” I said, and I meant it with every fiber of my being. “I just need to figure out how to do it without burning everything down in the process.”
She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “I trust you. Whatever you decide, I trust you.”
Those words. Her simple, unwavering faith nearly undid me.
“I love you,” I said, my voice raw. “God, Madigan, I love you so much it terrifies me.”
“I love you too.” She pressed her hand against the screen, as if she could touch me through it. “Come home soon. Please.”
“I will. I promise.” I pressed my own hand against the screen, matching hers. “A few more days. Just a few more days, and then I’m coming home to you.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Good.” I tried to smile, though it felt fragile. “Now get some sleep. You need to rest.”
“So do you,” she countered. “You look exhausted.”
“I will. After we hang up.”
