“She’s okay. She was the one trying to beat Thomas up when you arrived. She’s strong.”
Maria had admitted she’d hit Thomas a few times before I’d shown up, and he hadn’t fought back. And that her bloody nose hadn’t been by his hand.
That didn’t change my disgust or hate for Thomas, though.
“The past is the past.” Ryan slapped a hand to my back, trying to ease the discomfort I still felt, and I peeled my focus over my shoulder to look at him.
“And that past came back to haunt me.”
“Thomas was the last loose end.” He set a hand over his heart. “You know I’d be the first one to tell you if I thought you were a risk to my wife and her family.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I hesitantly answered. “Also, thank you for letting us stay in the guest room until we can find a new place to live.”
My apartment and hers were now full of shitty memories I didn’t want surrounding her, and with Thomas more than likely going to prison for aiding the mafia, we had no reason to live in Uptown. It made more sense to be in Waxhaw by her family and the restaurant.
“Of course.”
My eyes connected with Maria’s from across the room, and she stopped talking and went quiet as I peered at her. And for whatever reason, this moment had me thinking back to Hudson’s bar six years ago when we’d exchanged looks before that kiss.
She’d been a virgin then. Hadn’t met Thomas. And still believed in fairy tales, searching for the kind of love she read about.
And I wanted that storybook ending for Maria, the one Bianca had written about just before dying. I blinked, realization hitting me at what I needed to do. “Can you watch the stove?” I asked without waiting for an answer, starting for Maria. She lifted her beautiful eyes and peered up at me as I said, “We need to talk.”
Worry passed over her face, but she quietly nodded and handed Chiara over to Natalia. I took her hand, and we went upstairs to the guest bedroom.
Once the door was shut, I motioned for her to sit on the bed. Chiara’s travel crib was set up by the bed, and I swallowed at the fact that what I was about to say would mean I wouldn’t be sharing a room with them tonight.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, taking a seat. “I mean, aside from the mess of the last five days.”
I let go of an uneasy breath and sat alongside her. She pivoted to face me, and I took her hand between my palms. “I want a do-over,” I admitted. “A clean slate. Fresh start.” I swallowed. “I don’t want this to be how our story begins, because it feels fucking doomed if it does.”
“Enzo.” Her free hand went to my cheek, her eyes thinning.
I thought back to the edited version of my sister’s story, the one published. The only version I’d read so far, which clearly lacked the behind-the-scenes details of my sister’s life. “I wish I could edit out everything that’s happened since Wednesday. But since that’s not possible, I’m going to ask you for the do-over instead.”
“What do you mean?”
I tightened my hold on her hand. “I want to take you out on dates. Flirt with you. Take things slowly. Give you the romance story you deserve.”
Her glossy eyes shed a tear, and her lips crooked at the edges. I wasn’t sure if that was a smile or frown she was fighting. “I don’t need that. I already love you. Accept you. You don’t need to do this. I just want us to be together.” She palmed my cheek. “If you’re in my life, my story is complete.”
“I love you so much that it hurts,” I confessed. “But that hurt is why I know we need to do this. The pain of my past is punishing, and I’m so damn terrified I’ll mess up.” My voice was rough. Emotions cutting through. The events of the week hammering my body, mind, and soul. Finally catching up with me. “Maybe it’s me who needs a fresh start. The chance to truly move on from my past, and somehow this reset feels like I—”
“Then yes,” she interrupted, both crying and nodding. “For you, yes. If you need this, I’ll do it. If you’re not trying to push me away because you think you’re a danger or some insanity like that, then yes.”
“You were right.” My brothers were right today. “You’re safer with me.”
“Good.” A heavy breath later, she shared in a shaky voice, “I promised you I’d be there for you to help you escape hell, and if for even a second you still feel like you’re there . . . I’m here for you.” She pulled her hand from mine and slipped her arms over my shoulders, drawing me in for a hug. “I’ve got your back like you have mine.”
“Fuck,” I cried against her neck, surrendering to every emotion I’d once battled to keep hidden. “I really am lost without you.”
“But I’ll always find you.” She offered a similar promise to the one I’d made to Izzy. “Just like I know you’ll always find me.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Maria
One Month Later
“I’m in hell. I mean, there’s no other way to put it.” I pointed at the ground, frustration mounting, my body tingly all over. “Enzo’s driving me insane.”
“Mm-hmm.” My sister tossed a few of her best dresses onto the guest bed for me to try on for my date tonight. “Yes, having a man like Enzo wine and dine you, be all charming and swoony for weeks, was the definition for hell when I looked it up.”
I chuckled and dramatically collapsed onto the bed, probably wrinkling the outfits. “He’s barely even tongued me.”
“Because he knows he’ll put that tongue elsewhere if he does, and he’s trying desperately to take things slow. Give you some type of slow-burn romance.”
I groaned and rolled to my back and let go of an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want slow burn. I want action in chapter one. I want a whole book of hot scenes.”
She laughed again, then tossed a little black dress on top of me. “I know you, missy. And you love the tension and anticipation. I see the looks you share at the restaurant. And I know whenever you get a text from him because your face lights up.”
All true. I couldn’t deny it. And we had exchanged some hot looks and some witty and sexy read-between-the-lines texts that left me super wet afterward. The man knew how to turn me on without using dirty words.
Towels. Freaking towel talk from the man debating the best thickness over a late-night call last night had even sent me over the edge.
“Also,” my sister went on when I was lost in my thoughts, “not knowing when things will finally explode between the two of you is exciting and so, so hot. Trust me, I remember those days with Ryan.”
I tossed the black dress aside and sat upright. “He’s a walking book boyfriend, just like your hubby.” I fake-pouted and crossed my legs, the pain horrendous between my thighs. Chiara had been sleeping in her travel crib by my bed in Natalia’s guest room, so I was wound up tight without relief. My last orgasm had been in Long Island the night before hell broke loose.
Natalia smoothed a hand over her stomach. She was in a cute baby-blue dress with a bow beneath her breasts. “I really do think his request to do all of this is sweet and poetic. He wants to give your story a better beginning. And surely now that things are settled and the paint is dry on the whole mafia thing . . .” She wrinkled her nose. “Bad analogy, but the point is, I think enough time has passed, and he’ll take things to the next level.” She lifted one shoulder. “He is a chef, surely he knows how to turn up the heat.”
“Oh, he does. And he has been. For four weeks, but without getting me off,” I teasingly wailed, testing my drama skills. And yeah, they still sucked.
One thing I hadn’t been able to hide from Enzo: the nightmares. When he’d pressed for me to share, worried I was dreaming about him taking lives, I finally admitted they weren’t about him.
No, they were about Alice holding a knife over me by the bed. But I always woke up right before she could stab me.
Enzo had refused to take no as an answer when suggesting therapy. I’d told him I’d go if he agreed to see someone as well.