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"Gone away is the bluebird. Here to stay is a new bird. 🎶"
Florence's eyes fluttered open and for a moment, she thought she was still sleeping. The voice singing wasn't one she was used to and the song on the air playfully danced down the halls outside the door.
Elizabeth.
The bed was blissfully warm, even with the soft glittering crystals on the window sending icy reflections into the room, and the arm around her waist was almost too comfortable to wiggle out of.
But Nino had always been good at recognizing the small signs that Florence was awake. He shifted behind her before she could make a dash for the door and let out a long yawn. Long, slender fingers slowly dragged down the length of her arm and Florence hummed a soft good morning.
"Merry Christmas, Flo."
Her boyfriend's voice rumbled through her, setting her skin alight. His words set her mind wandering and with them came the realization that she was indeed awake, on Christmas morning, with a warm, handsome man behind her murmuring holiday greetings into her ear.
A delighted, nervous shiver danced over Florence's skin and she turned over to face Nino.
He was more awake than she expected, the catty grin she'd fallen in over with stretched wide over his face. He leaned forward towards her, but she met his lips with her own before he could stretch too far. Florence's eyes danced as she pulled back and she pressed her cheek into her pillow.
"Merry Christmas, Nino."
The singing in the hall continued, a cheerful tone she couldn't be happier to hear in her friend's tone, and the sound of someone speaking from downstairs trickles up along the floorboards.
"We should get down there."
Nino grinned sharply, a dangerous flash of teeth, and wrapped his arm back over her waist.
"We can take our time. It's warm."
A laugh bubbled out of Florence’s throat and she pressed her feet up against his, flexed but unmoving.
"How very selfish of us." She didn't move, even so, and Nino drew her closer, pressing his lips against her shoulder.
Florence's hands flattened up against Nino's back and she hummed the next few lines she could remember from Elizabeth's song. Her fiance shivered against her and rolled sideways until he lay above her, his elbows digging into the pillow on each side of her head.
Florence drew her hands up slowly along his chest, walking her fingers up his neck and onto his jawline. Rough bristles tickled her skin and she whistled the next line as she drew him down towards her face.
"You did promise me a good Christmas this year."
Without bothering to nod his affirmation, he lowered his lips onto hers and captured them with voracious intent.
Florence forgot the sounds around her for a moment, the humming in the hallway, the quiet crinkle of falling crystals outside, and her attention shrunk to Nino's fingers dragging down across her abdomen.
His lips caught against her ear, and Florence shuddered as his teeth dug into the soft flesh of her neck. She gasped sharply and drew her legs up from under him. She dragged her hands up over Nino's chest again, then to his shoulders, and pushed upwards. The sudden shift in direction caught Nino off guard and Florence careened forward, pinning him into the sheets.
"My gift first," Florence murmured.
There was a flicker of a challenge in Nino's eyes as he looked up at her, a tiny burst of delighted surprise, and Florence grinned wildly. She dropped her lips back to his, catching one of them in her teeth, then placed her hands flat on each side of his body. Dragging her mouth down from his lips to his neck to his stomach, she glanced up at him slowly, her own eyes blazing with anticipation.
"Don't think you've been a very good man this year, Nino Ricci. Are you sure you deserve a present?"
A guttural laugh that sounded more like a growl rolled out of Nino's throat and his body stiffened beneath her. Florence paused for just a moment, gently blowing hot air across his ribs. She pressed a kiss over the faintest line of hair peeking out from his boxers and a strangled moan groaned out between Nino's teeth.
"I spoil you."
Her hand slipped beneath the cloth and around Nino's hardening cock. A hiss escaped between his teeth and his own fingers tangled inside of Florence's curls as she dragged her thumb upwards with a satisfied smirk.
A loud rapping sounded at the door and Florence sprang back into the pillow as Elizabeth’s Colvin’s voice followed it.
“Come on, wakey wakey, love birds! It’s Christmas, and there’s a lovely fire, and if you’re doing anything I’m not able to, I’m going to-”
“Come on, Lizzie,” Edmund. That was Edmund. Thank god for Edmund. “Let them sleep.”
“But-”
“They’ll be along later.”
“But-”
“Come on, sweetheart, they’ll catch up later.”
“But it’s Christmas and there’s a fire, and…” Her voice faded toward the stairs.
Florence had pressed her back up against the wall as the conversation continued, her cheeks growing hotter by the second, but Nino lay exactly where she’d left him.
A chuckle, somewhere between amused and frustrated, barked out of his throat, and after a moment breathing hard, he slowly propped himself up on his elbows to watch Florence.
She stared at him, a deer caught in the headlights, flattening her hair down over her ears, which had started to glow a bright pink. Nino waited for just a moment, his eyes still heavy with heat before he pushed himself up onto his knees. With a pleased smile, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Florence's lips again, hovering for just a moment.
"Merry Christmas, Florence."
Before she could respond, still somewhat flabbergasted by the intrusion on her intentions, he removed himself from the bed and headed for the small restroom nested into the back of the room.
It wasn't long before they made it downstairs and Florence was proud to find the red in her cheeks had faded to a soft pink, quiet enough that it might be confused for a morning shade.
Nino had chosen to emerge from the bedroom in a deep red robe and a set of long black pajama pants. Florence's hands still itched at the look of him, but she shifted her attention to where Elizabeth and Vittorio stood embracing one another in the den.
"Morning, everyone. Merry Christmas."
”Florence, good morning!” Elizabeth said, breathless, with a half-unseeing glance. She held Vittorio’s palm over her swollen belly. If Vittorio noticed anything but his wife-to-be and the movement beneath his palm, he gave no indication.
Florence beamed back at her, watching the look on Vittorio's face with an overwhelming sense of pride.
It wasn't often she saw such a fond look on the man's face and she wasn't surprised to see it now. It had been such a long road to get where they were, for both him and Elizabeth, and Florence's heart seized at the happy moment time had afforded them.
"Look at you, so put together!"
There was a fire in the hearth, a glowing tree, and presents with gleaming swirls of ribbon and bows bright and curled like the toppings on a cake. It was beautiful and colorful and the smells drifting into the room from the kitchen were heavenly.
Christmas.
"Merry Christmas, kids." Nino dropped down onto the couch and patted a cushion beside him, glancing over at her for just a moment.
Elizabeth held her other hand out, beckoning to both Florence and Nino. “Come, feel this! There are two. I just know it.”
Neither of them wished to argue and they moved towards her quickly.
Florence's hand fluttered for a moment over Elizabeth's stomach, her heart in her throat. She hadn't ever felt a baby kick, had never had any younger siblings or any pregnant friends, and for just a moment, she was terrified she'd do something wrong. But Elizabeth’s hand gently led her own to her stomach and after a moment, she gasped.
There it was. The slightest flutter, a burst of a kick right against her own hand, another human being, tiny and hidden but growing into a person. And another. Two small punches of activity and with a watery laugh, Florence pulled her hand back.
She looked up from Elizabeth's stomach to Nino's face, still and more stunned than she'd often seen him. He stared back at her, his own eyes glossing over, and reached out to squeeze Florence's free hand.
"There's two of them. I swear, there's two of them. Liz, that's so amazing."
“Isn’t it just?” Elizabeth craned her head back to look up at Vittorio, who appeared ashen and on the verge of fainting. “Goodness, darling, we need to get you sitting down. The biggest surprise today should be the plane, not a visit from the doctor. Come.”
Florence watched Vittorio carefully as he sat down on the couch beside Nino, concerned. There were things she wouldn't ever ask the man on her own, would allow him his privacy until he was willing to share it with her. But Nino knew the man, as a close friend even. Florence knew the importance of that.
So as Elizabeth headed for the kitchen, she followed, leaving a grateful Nino behind on the couch.
“I think he’s in shock.” Elizabeth’s eyes shone with delight. “And I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. I just couldn’t wait to tell you and Nino.” Her hand found Florence’s and held on tight. “And we already have names picked out.”
Florence blushed slightly at Elizabeth's comment on interrupting something. Nino had recovered surprisingly well, but the sudden change in scenery had been a bit of a jump for her.
Nonetheless, feeling the kicks of Elizabeth's future children— children!— had immediately swept her embarrassment away.
"You do! Tell me, what are they?"
Florence pulled several small porcelain cups from the cupboard and offered her each one carefully.
“What are what?” Charlotte Harris’s hands reached around them to take down a stack of plates while her beau opened the oven doors, releasing a burst of cinnamon and nutmeg.
Florence blinked at the woman, unsure of just how much Charlotte had been told.
"-couldnt wait to tell you and Nino," Elizabeth had said.
Had she told Charlotte as well?
In the past months since Elizabeth's return, Florence and Charlotte had formed somewhat of a compromise, an understanding between them that they were both women worthy of respect and both friends of equal value to Elizabeth. She didn't wish to push any more buttons or step on Charlotte's feet anymore than she has.
“I’ll tell you later, Lottie.” Elizabeth set the cups onto a tray, the several saucers that Florence handed her.
“Will you two be in to join us soon? I’d like to…”
The bright smile on her face turned sentimental. She turned her head back to the way they’d just come. “Florence, would you be a dear and bring the coffee? I’ll… just be a moment.”
Charlotte stared at the doorway, watching Elizabeth leave. “She’s so flighty this morning.”
“Flighty, says the pilot,” Edmund slid a spatula under a piece of French toast and set it on one of the plates.
“Not anymore, Eddie. Don’t say that.” Charlotte handed him another plate, setting the one with toast on it on another tray. “But let’s hurry back. Lizzie’s likely to start ripping into packages. Did you sleep all right, Flo?”
Florence stirred a bit of cream into her coffee before looking back at the woman. She hadn't expected her to ask how she'd slept, had hoped it was less obvious, the lack of sleep she'd managed in the past couple months.
And Christmas. She wasn't used to a real Christmas.
"I did. Thank you. I like it when it snows. It's cozy. Easy to sleep to."
Florence smiled back at her, grateful for the woman's concern, then nodded to the two before ducking through the door again.
"Merry Christmas."
She slipped through the door before the woman could respond, tightening her grip on the platter in her hands as she did so.
Her pace slowed as she neared the Christmas tree and looked up (and up and up) into its branches in awe. The tree gleamed a bright gold, white, and red, and the lights winked cheerfully at her. Each branch was draped in glittering tinsel and ornaments hid like tiny surprises inside each space. It felt like staring at something right out of a Sears catalog. Knowing the Puzo family, it was.
She'd always loved putting up her own tree, no matter that it was small and could hold no competition with the one towering above her now. Even after she'd moved out of Pennsylvania, she'd kept up with the tradition, unable to squeeze her favorite holiday activity out despite things.
Her eyes drifted across the hearth, wrapped delicately with garland and sporting stockings with each of their names. The room was warm and inviting, set aglow with the fire, and as Florence caught a glimpse of snowfall out the window again, her heart pulsed into her throat.
"Are you alright?"
Florence jumped slightly and the sounds of the room doubled in volume as her hearing kicked in again. She looked to her right to find Elizabeth gazing at her with concern. Behind her, the roll of conversation had gone silent. Florence glanced down at the carpet and readjusted, lowering the plate of coffees onto the living room table behind her.
"Mom really loved Christmas. I haven't really... spent time with family for it in awhile." She smiled, embarrassed to be caught in the moment, and nodded.
"I'm alright. You outdid yourselves with all this."
“It can be a hard time of year, but all of us are here for you, for whatever you need.” Elizabeth looked pensive as she said it and Florence felt a sharp pinch in her chest. She hadn’t meant to remind the woman of missing family members. Certainly not this year.
“Miss Baker,” Vittorio said from behind her, closer than Florence expected him to be. As she turned to look at him, he hooked his thumbs into the navy belt loops of his robe, and licked his lips. “Tell us what you need.”
'Space. I need space. And air.'
There was a ringing in her ears, building to a shriek, and heat raced down her insides. Vittorio's voice was louder in her ears than it should have been and her hands shook beside her as she glanced towards the fire again. Panic crawled up her throat and Florence shook her head quickly, squeezing between Elizabeth and Vittorio and heading for the double doors leading outside.
"I just need a minute. I'm alright. Just need to breathe for a second."
Her voice ghosted out through her teeth, vibrating in her ears and as she started to pass Nino, the man caught her hand in his. She startled, panic flaring in her eyes, but her fiance held tight. His mouth had thinned to a concerned line and he kept his grip locked around her fingers, firm but loose enough that she could break it if she wanted. Nino's other hand glided carefully over her cheek and he pulled her close enough to him that he could place his forehead against her.
Her stomach stilled for just a moment. The room straightened itself just a little bit, just enough that the floor wasn't rocking beneath her feet.
"You're alright, Florence."
She focused on the sound of his voice, the confident hum of baritone, and she took a slow breath, nodding.
"I'll be right back. I'm fine."
Images flickered around in her head— her mother bustling around the kitchen on Christmas morning, her face full of mirth. Her father chuckling at the two of them, picking his way along the presents and shaking one now and then. The tree. And a fire. And Alvaro's casual smile as he nodded towards his own hearth, laying out a suggestion as if it were just another recommendation for a party game.
Florence squeezed Nino's hand and smiled as reassuringly as she could, then pulled away and stepped through the doors onto the porch.
The cold air hit her more like a blast than a breeze and Florence gulped it in greedily. Inside had been cozy and warm and then, all at once, stifling and claustrophobic. The comparison now, biting cold and wide open, was a blessing in itself.
She wrapped her fingers around the patio railing, anchoring her thoughts into the chilled steel pressing up against her skin.
"It's not hard, Miss Baker."
"Excuse me, sir, I'm not used to planning acts of arson."
"Don't be so sensitive. It's a house, not a church."
Florence forced a long, slow breath in through her nose, her head pounding, and she focused on the buildup of thin air in her lungs. If was easier to think on the tiny crystalline structures melting into her bloodstream than it was to think of some child of a man ordering her about when all she wanted was to enjoy another Christmas.
It was easier even to think of her mother, insisting on celebrating every year, and her father, skeptical but devoted, than to imagine her burning something to ashes that she ached for so badly.
Family. She'd consider them family, if they were willing, and Alvaro could wait another few days for all he mattered to her.
Priorities first. Her friends first.
Florence returned to the den not long after, once her hands had stopped trembling and her head spun a little less. She approached the sofa with a quiet, embarrassed apology and settled down beside Nino with a surrendered sigh.
As she dropped down beside him, her hip bumping up against his, Nino wove his arm around her waist. His lips brushed up against Florence's cheek and she melted into the contact. To him, it was a step, if a small one.
The tension in the air broke when Charlotte walked back into the den, followed by Edmund, carrying trays of French toast and oranges.
“Breakfa-” The woman stopped suddenly, causing Edmund to bump into her and an orange to roll off her tray. “What happened? Did someone d-”
Charlotte blanched at what she'd been about to say.
“Shit.” She muttered the rare swear under her breath.
The change in atmosphere was so surprising or perhaps so appreciated that Florence couldn't help it as a snort broke from her lips. She pinched her nose for a moment, grateful for Charlotte's attitude and waved her over, reaching towards Edmund for a plate.
Her friend looked distraught, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment and Florence didn't dare to sit on a precarious comment such as hers after she'd already thrown the room into turmoil.
"You're fine, Charlotte. The French toast looks amazing, may I?"
”I-I…um…” Charlotte wouldn’t quite think. Rarely was she at such a loss for words.
Edmund swiftly set his tray on a table and swiped up a couple plates as if he’d been a waiter for years himself, and held one out to Florence. “Madame?” he said in his best impersonation of a French waiter.
Florence smiled widely as Edmund passed her a plate and set it down on her lap, waiting for the others to be served.
This was new for her, watching a man burst from the kitchen with breakfast, looking delighted at his own Christmas creation. Though Nino had surprised her a number of times in his attempts to produce something delicious, her father had hardly even approached the kitchen outside of the moments he'd sneak a bite before dinner.
It was refreshing, a new type of tradition she hadn't expected and she smiled gratefully. Nino's arm squeezed gently around her waist, and she glanced back at him. The look on his face was a question, concerned and personal, and Florence took advantage of the distraction Edmund offered in handing out each plate.
"I'm alright, love." She pressed her forehead to his for a fraction of a moment, a silent nod to the man's physical reassurance minutes before.
Nino watched her for a long moment, then leaned forward to answer into her ear.
"Don't shut me out on this one. I'm here for you."
Florence's eyes widened almost imperceptibly and she nodded. One hand trembled as she reached for one of Nino's own and squeezed.
She glanced around the room again as music blossomed into the air. Vittorio removed his fingers from the needle and she watched as he tapped his foot to the rhythm. Surprising, for him.
Leaning back, Florence curled closer into Nino's side, and took a bite of toast.
It was sweet and buttery, immediately filling Florence's mouth with flavor, and her eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"This is excellent, Edmund."
“If he didn’t run a paper, he could be a cook at the diner.” Charlotte elbowed him and plopped to the floor in front of the tree, legs crossed. She wiggled in time to the tune of the upbeat jazz.
“Florence, put in a word for him with the boss, huh?”
A delighted laugh bubbled out of Florence's throat at Charlotte's suggestion and she nodded her head towards Vittorio, grinning.
"Walter could use an extra hand. Man's a master at the oven, but I imagine a few more days off would be nice."
The music sent a shiver of energy through her feet and she glanced over at the record player again. A soft chuckle vibrated into her back and she glanced back at Nino as he nodded towards her plate.
"Finish your breakfast. Then I'll spin you around as long as you like."
But Elizabeth bounced next to Vittorio, unable to calm herself. “Can we at least-”
Vittorio laughed through his nose, draping his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. “You’re not going to eat until we start, are you.” It was a statement, not a question.
Of course she wouldn’t.
“I can’t. I want them to have their things.”
Edmund held up the end of his stocking cap and stepped around Charlotte. “I’ll play Santa, if you all agree with that.”
He picked up a rather large package and read the name on the label. “How about you?” He held it out to Florence.
Florence hardly expected her name to be the first, but she beamed as Edmund handed her the large heavy box, wrapped tidily in simple wrapping paper and topped with a dark green bow. The tag read "From Mr. Puzo" and Florence was surprised for a second time, though she supposed she shouldn't have been with how large the stack beneath the tree was.
It felt like a compliment, even now after knowing him for nearly a year, to be considered close enough for a gift. Still, perhaps this was simply what people did, when they weren't counting the minutes before they should find somewhere else to stay.
Inside was another box, heavy and dark, and as Florence drew it out of its packaging, she discovered it was a weighted lockbox, the sides smoothed down and etched with delicate, hardly visible grooves. A key sat in a small lock at the top and though she desperately wanted to turn it and lift the lid, Florence resisted the urge, instead drawing her hands across the dark metal and mapping the corners with her fingers.
Her memories, her secrets, that she could draw out when she wanted and lock tightly away when she needed.
Florence glanced over at the man, a wide, appreciative smile stretching across her lips, and she nodded her thanks, letting Edmund flit around in front of her for the next gift before speaking.
"Thank you, sir."
”No thank you, Miss Baker.” Vittorio leaned across Nino to tap the box and wink at her. “Open it later.”
Before long, it was as if a group of children had ripped open dozens of packages until only a few remained. Edmund pulled two identical, unmarked packages from under the tree, and a third bearing Nino’s name, and an envelope for Charlotte. “What are these two?” He held up the gold foil boxes and shook them.
Elizabeth peeled her eyes from her portrait, her gift from Florence, though kept her fingers on the glass. “They’re for my sisters,” she said, somewhat apologetically. “They’re the same thing. I hope you two like them.”
Edmund handed Florence and Charlotte each one of the packages, and tossed Nino his last box.
My sisters. Florence glanced up from the small box in her hands to stare at Elizabeth. The woman sat fidgeting in the chair across from her, hugging an old coat of Vittorio's around her. It nearly engulfed her as it was, but even without it, the woman would have looked small, avoiding looking directly at her and Charlotte.
With a quick, slightly worried glance towards the pilot, Florence turned her attention back to the box in her hand. She'd waited nearly the whole morning to watch Nino unwrap his gift from her, a bold, golden pocketwatch engraved with his initials that had cost her nearly a month's wages, but the gift was forgotten as she carefully slipped open Elizabeth's gift.
Inside was a delicate bracelet and a matching necklace, both beaded in glistening white pearls.
“I, um, took apart my mother’s long lariat, and made three sets, one for each us. I hope you like them.”
Florence's body went numb at Elizabeth's words and she looked up at the same time that Charlotte did, both their eyes wide and darting for Elizabeth's face. The woman fiddled with the coat around her, trying hard to appear uncaring and scratching at the back of her neck timidly.
Her mother's lariat.
Florence's legs moved without her telling them to and she strode the few feet between her and Elizabeth to wrap her arms tightly around the woman's back. Blinking hard as tears surged up behind her eyelids, she buried her head in the woman's shoulder.
"They're perfect. I'm honored."
Charlotte hadn’t moved from where she sat, her hands hovering reverently over her own open box. She swallowed, a little breathless, before speaking. “This family is all I’ve got. Thank you, Lizzie. I…” She stroked the pearls, at a loss for further words.
Elizabeth looked from her to Florence, from Florence to Vittorio, from Vittorio to Edmund to Nino. “I think we’re all any of us have got.”
Florence's arms shook as she hugged her friend tighter. It would have been easy for her father to have noticed, to have realized that she clung to him and pulled at him and asked for him for so long because they'd been all each other had. Now, after years of convincing herself that being alone was the only way to survive, Nino, Vittorio, and Elizabeth, even Edmund and Charlotte to an extent, firmly reminded her of the opposite.
Someone cleared their throat behind her and she slowly disentangled herself from around Elizabeth. She turned, moving back towards Nino and scrubbing at her eyes, and Edmund leaned over her towards Charlotte.
"Last one."
Charlotte looked confused, glancing from Edmund to the envelope in his hand and back.
"There's no name?" The envelope sported the pilot's name on the front in a slanted, almost illegible scrawl, but there was no mention of the sender. As Florence settled down beside Nino, Charlotte picked the envelope open with a suspicious glance around the room. Even so, Florence caught the curious glint in the woman's eyes and watched as her eyes darted across the words on a sheet of paper inside.
Charlotte squinted at the letter as if she were confused and flipped it over once to check the back. Nothing.
"Check the car."
In a most undignified way, Elizabeth snorted back a laugh.
“Are you sending me on a wild goose chase?” Charlotte narrowed her brown eyes at Edmund. The corners of her mouth tightened with a suppressed smile.
“All three of us are,” Edmund teased, with a hitch of his thumb and his co-conspirators. “Shall we?”
~
Not long after Charlotte and Edmund had left on their scavenger hunt, Vittorio nervously patted the top of a very large box that had appeared to be a decoration. He placed a hand on each side of it, but then paused.
Florence watched the don closely, carefully noting his hesitancy, the way he focused on the object beneath his hands as if it were delicate, breakable.
Over the past year, Vittorio Puzo had allowed her a number of glimpses to his uncertainty. The moments were rare and somewhat of an honor to experience, but Florence had begun to recognize the soft, subtle look on the man's face when he was unsure and the way he fidgeted with his coat and lighter.
Florence took a slow sip of champagne, glancing at Nino and Elizabeth as they chatted between one another. After a moment, she rose quietly to her feet and treaded quietly towards Vittorio.
"And who would that be for?" Her voice was quiet.
Vittorio snapped out of his reverie at the question and swallowed hard. He drew himself to his full height and looked past her towards Elizabeth as she grabbed Nino’s hand and pressed it to a kick hard enough to bounce the fabric of her nightgown. Nino seemed to be in more disbelief than the father-to-be-…again. “No one, Miss Baker. Just adjusting it a little. I recommend opening your own box alone.”
It was hard for Florence to keep her face from falling. She was used to the man keeping to himself, it was simply his personality and a consequence of being a don. But she'd managed a few private moments in the past year that reminded her he considered her one of them, where they'd shared a moment of shared smiles and possible surprises.
He'd been more detached lately, though she supposed she had been as well, but today was Christmas. It stung to be shooed away at another attempt to connect.
Florence glanced down at the floor, taking another sip of her drink to hide her disappointment.
"Right. Noted."
”Please do so when you have a moment. Loyalty in families…” He licked his lips and blinked, semi-lost in his thought. But at last he managed a small, almost frightened smile. Without moving his head, he lowered his eyes to her and patted her shoulder. “Sooner than later.”
From the couch, Elizabeth piped up. “Oh!” Elizabeth leaned herself back on the cushions, gripping Nino’s arm for help. “Florence, I wanted to tell you the names we’ve been discussing.”
Vittorio took that moment to make an escape. “Smoke?” he said to Nino, heading to the patio door without a cigarette case or lighter.
Allowing her fiance to pass as he seemingly bolted for the door, Florence couldn't help but bounce next to Elizabeth as she waited for her to speak.
She'd known very few pregnant women in the past, certainly none close enough to her to let her feel their child's kick or insist on sharing planned names. She'd wondered how it would feel on occasion, especially when small groups of tittering wives and mothers swept into Vesuvio’s. To be included now felt a bit like a daydream. Settling beside Elizabeth, she turned her knees towards her friend and tried to stifle her excitement (a failed attempt) as she probed the woman for information.
"So? What have you two decided?"
“Well,” Elizabeth grinned, as if holding a great secret.
Before she could say anything more, she hissed and adjusted herself. “So much more movement, my goodness. Settle down, baby…zzz.” She put extra emphasis on the end of the word.
“If these are boys, then we’ll need to split names. Right now we have Antonio Edmund. It’s smoother than Edmund Antonio. I don’t think Edmund would mind.”
Florence's eyes sparkled with delight and she smiled wide, linking her fingers through Elizabeth's.
"Nino will be delighted. He's been foaming at the mouth, you'd think they were his own kids."
Florence blushed at the thought and squeezed her friend's hand, her tone softening.
"We'll take care of them as such, you know. All of us."
Elizabeth glanced at their hands, fingers laced together, and squeezed harder, loving how connected that felt with someone who meant so much to her. She pulled their joined hands to her heart and shyly bowed her head.
“And if they’re girls… well, Charlotte’s name and yours don’t work together in any way. Charlotte Florence, Florence Charlotte. So we were trying to decide between two different names, and if we have two girls, we won’t need to decide. They’ll be Beatrice Charlotte and Eleanora Florence.”
Florence wasn't sure she'd heard right at first. It was almost as if she'd gone deaf, as if all the sound in the room had suddenly been sucked out.
The words bounced around in her head all on their own, a single thought echoing inside of her brain. A gasp burst from her lips as she opened her mouth to speak and lost for words, Florence lowered her head inch by inch until her ear met Elizabeth's stomach.
"Thank you. I'm honored." The words broke as they left her throat and she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand.
Thump. Thump.
Elizabeth loosened one of her hands and carefully repositioned herself so that her head was resting on Florence’s arm and Florence would continue to listen to whatever sounds there were that Elizabeth herself couldn’t hear. The closeness soothed her.
She stifled a bit of a yawn, tempted to fall asleep for a nap already right where she was. “You’re one of us, Florence, and you will be for as long as you’ll have us as your family.”
Another soft thump bounced up into Florence's ears and Elizabeth’s words vibrated through her.
It felt like each syllable knit tiny threads into her bones, tying her to the couch and to Elizabeth, weaving soft bands over long-standing aches. Alvaro's face blurred in the back of her thoughts, his impatient orders melting into sluggish nonsense she could finally ignore, and the strain in Florence's muscles quivered and dissolved as each soft kick from whoever it was tucked inside Elizabeth's belly- Eleanora Florence, good God, it could be Eleanora Florence!- beat its tiny feet up towards the world.
"-as long as you'll have us as your family."
The promise unraveled her and Florence squeezed her eyes shut as tears burst down over her cheeks. A tired, but sure hand wove its way into her hair, a silent comfort, and beneath her, Elizabeth let out a content sigh.
The stress of the past few months and the sudden reappearance of Christmas traditions long missed slowly faded as Elizabeth's stomach rose and fell beneath her, a constant comfort. Her friend's fingers dragged softly through Florence’s hair as she cried until slowly the tears stopped, and both girl's breathing evened out into the careful drag of sleep.
Later that night, wrapped in blankets and watching Nino and Edmund gleefully crooning out whatever song came to their heads, Florence tucks herself neatly into a corner by the tree. Watching them all, Charlotte grinning into Eizabeth’s shoulder as she Edmund came round to serenade her, Nino at the piano, and Vittorio, casually observing them from his spot by the record player, she settled solidly upon a decision.
There will be time later, if it was all to go up in smoke. Alvaro can wait. For tonight, she’d prefer a blissful moment of peace and an untouched glimpse of family.