“Tell me.”
He doesn’t answer with words.
He just holds me tighter and carries me back down the hall.
He takes us to the bathroom instead of bed and sets me gently on the counter. The marble is cool beneath my thighs, grounding.
He reaches for my toothbrush, squeezes the toothpaste like he always does. Then hands it to me.
I take it slowly.
He grabs his own, does the same.
This is our routine.
The soft buzz of the fan. The clink of toothbrushes. The faint scent of mint.
But he’s stalling.
I feel it now.
He’s pretending this is just another morning, but his movements are too careful. Too quiet. His eyes don’t meet mine.
We brush in silence.
When we finish, I rinse and spit, the taste lingering bitter on my tongue despite the mint.
“Santo Amato,” I start, voice sharp with rising fear, “are you going to tell me—”
Before I can finish, he reaches up and gently wipes the foam from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. Then he steps between my legs, hands cupping my shoulders, rubbing slow, soothing circles.
He still doesn’t speak.
All my alarms go off at once.
My chest tightens. My throat closes. Thoughts spiral hard and fast.
“Who’s dead?” I whisper, breath catching. “Angelo? Adriana?”
He swallows, jaw clenched.
My heart freefalls.
“Mimi?” I choke, voice shattering as instant tears spring to my eyes. “Is it Mimi?”
His thumbs rise, catching the tears as they fall, brushing them away with aching gentleness.
“No. No Dea, I’m doing this all wrong.” He takes a breath.
“Capo Romero and his sons were ambushed and killed last night by their rivals. Romeo is on his way to Chicago, Angelo had me send Marco too. Romeo will be there from now until the foreseeable future.”
I blink, trying to process what he’s saying.
“Romeo is… leaving?” The words feel hollow in my mouth.
Santo nods, his hands still on my face. “ He left. He’ll be back from time to time, but he’ll have to take over as Capo there.”
Relief floods through me. No one I love is dead.
