Chapter Twenty-Two: Nathan's Point Of View

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By the time the movie has ended, only Antonio and I are awake, everyone else having given in to sleep sometime throughout the film.

"Should we wake them?" He asks, shutting off the T.V. plunging the room into darkness.

I look down at Emma against my side, my eyes having adjusted to the shadows, and watch her chest rise and fall steadily, her lips slightly parted, her hand resting on my side, over my waist. She looks so peaceful, like a little angel at rest- I don't have the heart to wake her.

"L-let th-the-them sleep." I try to whisper so as not to wake anyone, but it only makes it harder to speak clearly, and probably harder for Antonio to understand.

He must be so annoyed with me, why can't I talk properly? I bet they're all fed up with me, they probably don't even like me- why would they? They just pretend because they-

Interrupting my inner conversation, I watch Emma's hand fall from my waist, sliding down my arm, to my hand, where she unconsciously entwines our fingers, her little palm tucked against mine.

I smile, squeezing her fingers just slightly, as if convincing myself they're really there, that it's really happening.

As if on cue, the light in the stairwell flicks on, and our moms appear at the bottom of the stair case, smiling at us, all sprawled out in the dark.

"Tempo per letto bambini." Mom chuckles, walking over to Enzo on the floor, lightly shaking his shoulder.

Slowly, one by one, as they wake everyone up, they lumber up the stairs, sleep still heavy in their eyes, dreams still dancing in their heads. Having slept over so often, we all know the arrangements by now- the girls share a room, Enzo and Antonio sleep in his room on the bunk bed, Matteo gets the spare room down here, (which we used to share) and I get the futon- because it's the only bed long enough.

My mom turns to me, Emma still snuggled into my side, oblivious to the outside world moving around her, not a care in the world. She smiles affectionately at us, mumbling something in Italian I don't quite catch.

"Aspetta a lei, Ill tirare fuori il letto." I gape at her, confusion apparent in my expression.

"Pick her up. She'll just sleep with you, there's enough room." I swallow hard, following her directions, carefully peeling myself away from Emma, supporting her head in my hand as I move.

For a split second, I'm worried I won't be able to hold her- not because she's too heavy, but because I'm too weak. Pushing my insecurities aside at my mom's questioning stare, I carefully lift her up, still wrapped in the blanket, cradling her small, fragile body against my chest. Mom moves quickly, unfolding the bed, and setting up two pillows and some blankets, leaving them pulled down at the foot of the bed so I can lay Emma down.

As Mom steps back, working to rearrange the living room to some resemblance of how it was before we came down, I carefully lay Emma on the mattress, gently settling her head down on the pillow, watching with affection as she snuggles deeper into the afghan, an sigh leaving her lips.

I reach for the blanket, dragging it up around her shoulders, and tuck it around her carefully, watching her sink into the warmth of the bed, her expression at ease.

"Buona notte." Mom squeezes my shoulder on her way out, flicking off the lights in the stairwell as she continues back up, leaving me in darkness, the only sound being Emma's relaxed breathing, and Matteo shuffling around in the next room.

Do I get in bed with her? Would she be mad? Of course she would, I'm so stupid, she wouldn't want to be so close to me, she must be disgusted, she probably fell asleep leaning on me by accident, she didn't mean it-

Love, EmmaWhere stories live. Discover now