“You didn’t marry Danilo,” Remo murmured. “How could I?” I whispered, bending low until Remo and I almost touched. “How could I marry him when I was pregnant with your children?” Remo stiffened. I’d wondered how he would react if I ever told him about Greta and Nevio, but nothing came close to the look on his face. Complete and utter shock, and more than that … wonder. “When you gave me up, I carried your babies in me, Remo. You gave us up.” “I thought you’d return to me,” he rasped. “You pushed me away.” “I set you free.” “I wasn’t free,” I hissed. How could I ever be free when his name was
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