Chapter 47 Reunion
ARYA’S POV
I was a disaster of excitement as I rushed around my room, grabbing my things. My phone dropped on the bed first then my sunglasses knocked off the dresser.
The small clutch I had chosen to bring was sent flying when my elbow caught it while reaching for my lipgloss.
"Merda," I muttered, using one of the few Italian curse words I had picked up as I scrambled to collect everything.
By the time I made it downstairs, I was fairly certain I looked like I'd been through a tornado. My hair was hastily pulled back, my sundress was probably wrinkled, and I'd changed my shoes three times before settling on simple sandals.
Matteo was waiting by the car, his expression as stoic as ever. When I dropped my lipgloss for the third time while trying to put it in my bag, he bent down and retrieved it.
"Thank you," I said sheepishly, finally managing to zip my bag closed.
"Take things easy, Mrs. De Santis," he said in that cool tone he always used. "You have time."
"I haven't seen them in months," I explained, unable to keep the smile off my face despite my embarrassment. "My sister, my family… I'm just so excited I can barely think straight."
Matteo gave a single nod, his expression softening and opened the car door for me.
I slid into the back seat, and the moment we started driving, my mind went into overdrive.
I was finally going to see Christabel. It had been months and I wondered if she had grown taller? Was she okay? Had the separation been as hard on her as it had been on me?
And Marco. God, I had missed Marco's steady presence and the way he always knew exactly what to say to make me feel less alone.
Would everyone come? My mother must be there, she would never let Christabel travel without her. But my father... would Robert Vitale actually show his face after everything that had happened?
The questions spiraled through my mind, mixing with excitement until I couldn't sit still. I squealed and Matteo's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
"Sorry," I said, not feeling sorry at all. "I'm just... I can't believe this is happening."
He made a gruff noise before turning back to the road but I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.
The drive to the private airport felt endless and too short all at once and by the time we pulled up to the entrance, my hands were shaking with anticipation.
Matteo opened my door, and I practically leaped out of the car.
The private terminal was small and exclusive, designed for people who valued discretion. There were large windows that overlooked the tarmac.
Giovanni wasn't here, he had gone to work, leaving me to this reunion alone. Although a part of me wished he were here to see this, another part was relieved.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to handle the drama that would come from my father and Giovanni in the same space.
My breath caught as I sighted a plane touching down, its wheels kissing the tarmac with a screech that echoed through the terminal.
It drove closer, and I pressed my hands against the window, my heart hammering so hard I could barely breathe.
The plane came to a stop and stairs were rolled up to the door while staff moved to prepare for the passengers' exit.
And then the door opened.
The first person to appear was my father. Robert Vitale stepped out looking every inch the powerful mafia don he was and my mother followed, she took off the sunglasses from her face and adjusted the shawl on her head.
Then Marco appeared, and my heart gave a painful squeeze. He looked older somehow, but when our eyes met through the glass, his face split into the widest smile I'd ever seen.
And finally, Christabel.
My baby sister burst through the door like a tiny tornado, her dark hair flying behind her as she scanned the terminal until her eyes landed on me.
"Arya!" The scream was so loud I heard it through the glass. "ARYA!"
I was already running. I didn't remember making the decision to move but I was moving.
Christabel ran too, her little legs pumping as fast as they could, and when we collided it was with enough force to nearly knock us both over.
"Oh my God," I sobbed, dropping to my knees and pulling her into my arms. "Oh my God, Christabel, I missed you so much."
"I’ve missed you," she cried into my shoulder, her small body shaking with sobs. "Y-Y-You were taken away and we didn't even get to say goodbye and I thought… I thought-"
"I know, baby, I'm so, so sorry." I held her tighter, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo,.
"I don’t want you to stay away again.” she demanded, pulling back to look at me with red, tear-streaked eyes. "Promise you will come back with us."
"I-" The promise died on my lips because I couldn't make it. I didn't know what would happen after today.
I didn’t know if Giovanni would let me keep seeing them, or if this was a one-time gift but I couldn't tell Christabel that.
"I'll try my hardest," I whispered instead.
"Well, well, well." Marco's voice was warm with teasing. "Look who's become an Italian housewife. Do you make pasta now? Speak the language? Have you adopted any stray cats?"
I looked up at him through my tears and laughed. "Shut up and hug me, you idiot."
He dropped down beside us, wrapping both me and Christabel in his arms, and I felt warmth in my chest.
"You look good," he murmured in my ear. "Healthier than I expected. Are you... are you okay?"
"I'm-" I started, but my mother was there suddenly, pulling me up and into her embrace.
"Arya, my baby, my sweet girl." She was crying, her hands framing my face, checking me over like she was looking for injuries. "Are you eating enough? Are you sleeping? Has he hurt you? Tell me the truth!"
"Mom, I'm okay," I assured her, even though it wasn't entirely true. "I'm fine, really."
My father approached last, and the moment I saw his face, I realized how much this situation had cost him. He looked older, there were frown lines that weren't there before and his hair had more grey streaks in them.
My heart clenched in response and I took a step toward him. “Dad.”
"Arya," he said simply.
Then he pulled me into a hug that was so unlike the distant affection he usually showed, that I started crying all over again.