"Does he look like you?" Vito asked.
"Not really." she said. "He looks like his father. Who died because of Luca." She pulled out her phone, clicked on it and handed him the phone for him to see images of Matteo.
Vito scrolled through one picture after another while Val spoke. Her eyes stayed on her father's face as he looked at Matteo's pictures.
There was a strange ache in watching him do it. This man had missed everything. The birth of her son. The first time Matteo smiled. The first time he crawled. The nights she sat awake terrified Marco would not come home.
And now Vito sat there, holding her phone like he had the right to see what he had not earned.
"I am afraid for my son," Val said quietly. "For my husband. Dad, who will die next in Luca's quest to remain a terror? Vee?"
He paused on a photo of Matteo laughing in his walker, one chubby hand lifted, his eyes bright. "He is beautiful."
"Yes," she said.
"You seem to have a good life."
