Chapter 81. I’ll Try

The new apartment slowly began to look lived-in.

Rosa and Gabriella were in their element—cushions tossed around for debate, a parade of candles and throws being auditioned for the living room. Margherita helped, or at least her hands did; her mind was elsewhere.

Every time she reached into her coat pocket earlier, she felt the shape of the burner phone like a pulse.

By late afternoon, the apartment smelled faintly of cinnamon and new fabric. Gabriella was still fussing over which blanket “brought out the soul of the couch,” and Rosa finally shooed Margherita away from the kitchen island.

“Go rest, tesoro. Gabriella could tire out a saint.”

Margherita forced a smile and escaped down the hallway.

Her room was quiet, neatly arranged, the bed made with the blanket Dante insisted on buying. She sat on the edge, fingers gripping the mattress. Her heart hammered.

Call him? Don’t call him?

The last time she dialed that number, C