His face was pale.
He was a good actor, making his friends and family believe that he was doing fine. That his wife’s death was making him a better man — and in a way, it was.
But he was also mourning.
He was more than devastated.
He was lost.
I knew the look well.
For it was in my own lonely reflection every day.
Dear God, don’t let him turn out like me.
I clutched the silver chained cross in my pocket and said a prayer to the saints, a prayer to Mary.
And hoped.
That was all I could do.
Pray.
And hope.
“It’s their move.” I said once I was inside the car, the door slammed after me. “I have established my presence. We will see how they accept us this evening.”
Sergio frowned. “This evening?”
“A party.” I slapped him on the thigh. “So try not to look like your wife just died. Even though I know she did. Whatever it takes. We get the job done, do you understand?”
“Yes,” he snapped, his eyes focusing for the first time in hours. Sergio did well under pressure, under orders, control. The kid didn’t need a hug, he needed a good ass kicking.
I was just the man to do it.
I’d like to think Luca knew that.
Which is why, if Dante and Val wanted nothing to do with us, it would be Sergio taking my place.
Sergio leading my family.
I needed him strong.
My gut clenched as my past unfolded in my head… Funny, I had said that exact same statement over thirty years ago, as justification, of what I did to Luca, forcing him away from the only woman he had ever loved, faking his death.
Keeping them apart.
“Hey, you all right?” Sergio elbowed me. “You look like you may be sick.”
“Eh.” I waved him off. “I’m old. I’m always in pain.”
He rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh.
I tried to join in.
But my chest pained me.
For regardless of what people assumed, I did still possess my heart. And when I thought upon my sins, the direct result was a physical pain that refused to leave me.
A pain that reminded me.
I wasn’t just playing with lives.
But shaping destinies.
And I was the least worthy of them all to be doing such a thing.
If the shadows have offended think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here, While these visions did appear, And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
“JUST TRY TO be nice,” Sal encouraged in a stern voice. “We bought a dress!”
“Yes,” I said dryly. “I can see that.”
It was a pink monstrosity that had puffed sleeves and ruffles around the middle; it looked like something a first grader would wear and, even then, she’d probably still get made fun of. I half expected to see ankle socks with hearts and little black shoes. My first heels! Yay!
“Val.” Gio yawned and motioned to the dress with his cane. “We thought you would want to feel special on your special day.”
It was sweet.
They had great intentions.
Wrong intentions.
But their hearts were in the right place.
I gritted my teeth and pointed to the dress. “Thank you, but I actually, I um… Dante.” I fabricated the lie as quickly as my mind would work. “He actually helped me pick out a dress, and you know how Dante gets when he doesn’t get his way.”
The uncles nodded gravely.
Dante’s temper was infamous.
Though, for the life of me, I had no idea where he got all the anger. After all, my uncles were the tamest men I knew.
As if to prove my point, Gio yawned loudly while Sal reached into his pocket and pulled out a hanky.
I rolled my eyes. If a spider crawled across the floor, they’d most likely rescue it and wave a tearful goodbye as it crawled down the front steps of our brownstone.
Papi leaned heavily on his cane as he entered the room. “There is not enough room for the pig.”
“Pig?” I repeated, dumbstruck. I’d left work with the three of them in tow and marched into my brownstone ready to call every last person who had been invited to the party, only to discover it was going to be nearly impossible to cancel on over forty people.
Forty.
People.
So the only choice left was a public shaming of Nico. Either that or going through with the party and letting him down easy afterwards.
“I told you!” Sal shook his head as his furry eyebrows crinkled toward his nose. “We only need one pig! But no,” He slapped his hand against his thigh and stood. “’Two pigs, Sal, they will not go hungry under this roof!’”
“Well,” I shrugged. “At least they won’t…”
All eyes fell to me.
I sighed. “You know what? Why don’t you three go deal with the food situation while I get ready.”
“Yes.” Gio ushered them out like a mother hen and hesitated at the door.
Frowning, I walked over to him and placed my hand on his arm. “Gio? What’s wrong?”