“He’s not coming,” Jaimie said.
“No,” Lissa said, “he’s not.”
Emily sighed. “Well, we might as well get the fireworks started. There’s no point in waiting any longer.”
Jaimie nodded and used her cell phone to instruct the specialists in charge of the display that it was time to get things going.
“But wait another five minutes,” she said, and she gave her brothers and sisters an apologetic smile. “Can’t hurt to give it just a little more time.”
“Right,” Travis said, and then smiled at each of his sisters. Jake hugged them. Caleb ruffled their hair.
It was nothing new, their father making promises and not keeping them, but they all sensed a different texture to it this time, the way the air feels different when a storm is rolling in.
Perhaps that was the reason the brothers looked at each other, laughed a little self-consciously and stepped into the kind of quick bear hugs often exchanged by men who love each other but aren’t great at saying it.
Zach, Marco, Nick, Sage, Addison and Jennie joined the little group. The babies were in the house, tucked away from all the noise that would accompany the fireworks.
Jaimie checked her watch. “Just another couple of minutes—”
“Here you are!”
The voice was unmistakable.
The general, resplendent in full uniform, a score of brightly polished medals and colorful ribbons pinned to his chest, was coming toward them through the rose-covered arched trellis that led into the little grove.
“Sorry we’re late,” he said briskly. “I hope we didn’t miss the fireworks.”
“We?” Lissa started to say, but as their father reached them, they could all see that he was not alone.
There were people with him. Two men, about the ages of the Wilde brothers. Two women, about the ages of the Wilde sisters. All four stood in a way that made them appear stiff and unyielding.
“Yes,” the general said. “We.” He gave them all a bright smile, as false as a party mask. “And we’re happy to see that you’re well and—”
The general’s words blurred as the Wildes stared at the four unknown guests. They were strangers.
And yet—and yet, there was something familiar about them.
The height of the men. Their long, leanly-muscled bodies. Their dark hair, and the elegantly masculine bone structure of their faces.
The way the women held themselves. Their slender bodies. Their fair hair, and the shapes of their noses and mouths.
Instinctively, the Wildes drew closer together.
“…so my apologies for the delay,” the general said, “but the weather in Rome—”
“Basta!” one of the men with him growled. “Enough! Just get to it.”
“Si,” the second man said. “Cristo, we have had enough of talk!”
Caleb looked at the general. “Who are these people?” he said. “What’s going on here?”
The general cleared his throat. “They are—they are—”
The first man stepped forward. “I am Matteo.”
The second man joined him. “I am Luca. And these are our sisters, Alessandra and Bianca.”
Silence. No one moved. No one spoke. After what seemed a very long time, Travis said, “And you have come here as our father’s guests?”