Page 12 of Lorenzo

Mario gets out of the car behind us. He closes the distance quickly, coming to stand on Alessio’s other side.

No one says anything.

There is nothing useful to say in the drive at 6:00 in the morning after spending the night getting my son released.

The front door opens before we reach it.

Edoardo stands there.

He looks as he always does, even when something has gone wrong: composed, watchful, taking in every detail. His gaze goes straight to his brother.

Behind him are Matteo, Tomasso, and Dante.

Of course they are here. All four cousins live together with Alessio in one large house. They were there when the police arrived. They watched him being taken away, and none of them would have gone back to bed afterward.

Diego stands farther inside the entryway.

My younger brother looks from Alessio to me, his expression hardening after his initial relief at seeing him with us.

We cross the threshold.

The smell of breakfast reaches me immediately.

Coffee. Eggs. Fresh bread.

It is 6:00 in the morning, and someone has already filled my kitchen with food.

You can always count on family.

The rest of them are gathered beyond the entryway.

Ricardo is there with Julia beside him. She holds one-month-old Cecilia against her chest, the baby wrapped securely in her arms.

Victoria stands with four-month-old Leonardo, Mario’s youngest son, in her arms. She looks tired, but she is dressed and awake, waiting with everyone else.

Mario moves toward her as soon as he sees them. Victoria reaches for him with one hand while keeping Leonardo close with the other.

Ricardo steps forward.

Diego comes closer as well.

Matteo and Tomasso remain near the door, standing like sentries, both of them focused on Alessio. Dante stands beside them, his attention just as fixed.

Edoardo does not move until Alessio is fully inside.

Then he reaches for his brother and pulls him into a hard embrace.

Alessio closes his eyes.

Matteo is next, followed by Tomasso and Dante. Ricardo grips Alessio’s shoulder. Diego embraces him. Victoria comes close enough to touch his arm, and Julia does the same with Cecilia in her arms.

They surround him before he has the chance to say anything.

I stand just inside the door and watch my family greet my son as though bringing him home is the only thing that matters.

***

By the time everyone settles around the table, the kitchen has filled with the usual noise of a family meal.