Protection. Stability. A home.
He stepped in while I was forced out, and for that, I'm both grateful and resentful.
If Dominic could see past family lines to recognize my innocence, why couldn't Elena?
Hell, even Dom’s men, who once worked for his father, don’t seem to blame me, a concern I had when I returned considering I’d been a marked man.
I remember early on after returning home, Gio Sarto, who’d been with Dom’s father forever, took some time to size me up, figure out whether I’d been against Don Vitale back when I was helping his brother. I assured him I believed I was doing Don Vitale a solid.
Gio shrugged and walked off.
Why is Elena so hell-bent on believing I was responsible for her father’s problems when no one else in the family does?
She, who once claimed to know my heart better than anyone, believed the worst of me without hesitation.
I scoff, hoping Dominic is preparing to serve something potent.
I need it to burn away the resentment that comes when I think of Elena.
Not that I can stop.
Thinking of her brings to mind her kids.
They turned six a few months back.
I've done the math a hundred times, torturing myself with the timeline.
She was over me and in bed with someone so fast, it made my head spin. Who is this mother fucker?
Where is he?
Why doesn’t anyone talk about him?
The only thing I can think of is that someone in the Vitale family killed him.
I know I need to stop torturing myself about it, but my heart refuses to listen.
Yesterday, while Christmas shopping, I saw her at Macy’s with her kids.
She didn't notice me, too busy adjusting a little girl's coat.
Adalina.
The boys are Rocco and Elio.
They were racing around a Christmas display.
Elena's face when she looked at them was radiant.
She once looked at me like that.
That thought immediately takes me back to the Hampton beach house nearly seven years ago.
Elena's head on my chest as we watched the sunrise from the beach.
Our little friends with benefits turned to something real that weekend.
We started making plans for the future.
