Other children started to push their way through the talkative girls, intent on grabbing handfuls of candy. By this time, Scarlett had handed me the bowl and left me to it.
A little boy in a bullfrog costume hopped up. “Trick or treat,” he croaked, holding out his bag.
“Eeeeeeee,” I said in response, mimicking the possessed frog that had refused to leave Scarlett’s hair.
The boy laughed and hopped off, but Scarlett started laughing so hard that her cheeks turned red. The girls laughed with her, not even understanding the private joke. They were in awe that Scarlett spared some time to talk to them.
Mary shoved through the crowd with her shoulders, rough from her brothers, representing Superwoman, and lifted her bag up to me.
“Dolcetto o scherzetto, BRANDPOW!” She turned a mean face on the kid next to her. “That means trick or treat.” Then she stuck her tongue at him. He scrunched up his nose and ran off.
Mick grinned from behind her.
I handed her a wad of candy, and in return, she handed me two suckers—the kind with the chocolate center. I grinned. I hadn’t had one in a long time.
If there was ever a good time to restart the habit, that seemed like perfect the moment. No solution had come to resolve the issue with Luca.
No matter how many times Scarlett and I had discussed the situation in the privacy of our bedroom, or during long walks, if felt like we were spinning our wheels.
Shouldn’t a man know if he truly killed someone or not?
But he was just as responsible as Old Man River.
If Marzio hadn’t stepped in and Luca hadn’t been charged, what would’ve happened tous?
What’s going to happen if we make this known?
What will your brothers do?
What would Luca do?
Everett. I have to consider his safety as well.
I had thanked the man. No matter what, he had a hand in securing my wife for me. The truth of the matter was, if Luca had been successful in taking me to Italy, I would’ve had my brothers, not Scarlett. A life much different from the one I led.
In all honesty, life worked out as it was supposed to. I was supposed to be with Scarlett, and she was supposed to be with me.
All that was fine; it was the moral aspect that held me prisoner to the situation: a man should know if he killed someone, directly or indirectly. The specifics of it. The heart of the truth. Would the knowledge change the way he prayed for forgiveness?If he prayed for forgiveness? Would it make a difference at all?
So many times I had put myself in Luca’s shoes, and then Stone’s. From Luca’s, I would want to know, if only for the truth. He still ended two lives, no matter how you spun the story. But didn’t he deserve to know the truth before he met his maker? And would the lie preserve him from punishment?
From Stone’s shoes—no matter how I spun his story, Luca would’ve died the day he killed my wife and unborn child. I would’ve taken a life, and that was a fact, knowing damn well why I’d done it. Even if that meant the Fausti family would kill me.
Only one person had stopped me from going after Nemours. My wife. And the vow had a time limit. The expiration date had come, and sooner or later, we’d meet. But that situation had an outcome. I’d either kill Nemours or he’d kill me. The situation with Luca was uncertain and brought with it too many fucking questions that didn’t have easy answers.
“Here,” Scarlett said, taking the bowl from me. “Take as much as you want, Honeybee. Bzzz.” She made a buzzing sound to match the little girl’s bee costume. The little bee was about to cry, and then she smiled, real shy.
Scarlett scooped the candy for her, the little girl too hesitant to put her hand in the bowl, and then dropped it in the bee’s bag. She buzzed off with a wide smile on her face.
Nino walked up, shaking his head. “I do not like this night.” His face was marred by a perpetual frown. He was wearing a trashcan around his person. The lid on top of his head made his resemblance to Oscar the Grouch outstanding. He had lost a bet with Romeo. “I cannot tell the difference between real monsters and fake ones!”
Scarlett handed him the bowl, her mouth twitching at the sight of him. “If they come up for candy, they’re probably fake,” she said.
She turned to me. “Pensare di nuovo?”Thinking again?
“There’s only one situation that demands no thoughts.” I wiggled my brows at her.
“Mmhm.” She nodded. “That’s what I thought. That poor little bee was buzzing hard for candy, and when you ignored her, she started to tear up.”
