I kissed her temple and then stroked her head. “You have too much on your mind.”
“That too,” she whispered.
I didn’t press her. I knew my wife well. And I knew where she was headed. This was about her career—somehow, we always came back to it. But I couldn’t be the one to make this decision for her. No, I refused. I’d support her whatever her decision, but until she came to terms with it first, I’d let it be. Unless she was in danger, this was her call.
Tomorrow only added to her sadness. Our anniversary sometimes served as a blessing in the midst of loss—after we had met that night in the snow, her brother had been killed in a train accident. The witching hour, as Eunice had called it, was when he was taken. Elliott was the first friend I ever had, my best friend, even beyond the grave.
Some years were easier than others.
She cried herself to sleep in my arms. Her breath came soft and steady after, washing over me. I rested my head against the soft fabric of the sofa, letting the night carry me, but not to sleep.
A knock came at the door. Scarlett was so startled by it that if I hadn’t been holding her, she would have tumbled to the floor.
“Oh my God!” Her eyes were frantic, searching for the clock. It was three in the morning. Her entire body shook almost uncontrollably.
“Scarlett,” I said, as firmly as I could. Her eyes found mine. I took my voice down. “It’s all right, baby.”
My words were useless. This was the time the knock came at the door years ago, a life-altering visit that she had never gotten over. Even without the knock, some nights she didn’t sleep. That was why the stars had become so important to her. She gazed at them to escape reality.
The more I tried to console her, the louder the thumps became. No one was home but us. I had sent the men out so we’d have the house to ourselves. Eunice had gone to Scarlett’s parents’ place in the city for the night.
“Brando,” she said, her head shaking back and forth. “Who…?”
“Listen to me.” I was fairly sure Ettore wouldn’t come banging, but just in case… “Go upstairs and call Rocco. Tell him we have a visitor. Now, baby.”
She nodded. “I’ll use the phone in-in the kitchen.”
“Bene,” I said, putting a hand to the side of her head. “I’ll take care of it.”
I wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to move, but she did when the knocks came louder, making her flinch. After she disappeared, I swiped up my sweatpants, pulling them on. I had a gun hidden in the coffee table, and I swiped that too, tucking it in my pants, behind my back.
A louder knock came this time. If it wasn’t so cold and the neighborhood dogs would’ve been out, they would have been howling. Through the vestibule, I could see three shapes through the beveled glass, waiting on the stoop. Tall, thin shapes, moving into one another. Laughing.
I swung open the door, surprising them. Though they were the ones knocking at three o’clock in the fucking morning.
Three of Celeste’s friends stood out in the cold, bottles of wine in their hands, swaying. All three wore fur coats. “Oh, hello!” One of them giggled. “We are here to see Celeste, you sexy beast!”
Another came in closer, attempting to grab me by the shoulders, but she stumbled over her own feet into the girl next to her. “You arefineas hell!”
“S. E. X.” The third girl spelled. “That spells fine, right?”
The three of them laughed.
I tensed. I could deal with men. But women—to respect them was so ingrained in me that all I could do for a moment was stand there, the blood rushing to my head like I had high blood pressure.
“You have three seconds to get off my property,” I said, my voice cold.
One of them pouted. “But we brought gifts.” She opened her coat, exposing nothing but skin and bones.
“Two,” a voice came from behind me.
The faces on the opposite side of the door went pale, even in the freezing cold, and the girl with her coat open turned so fast that she tumbled down the steps, hitting each one as she flew down. Her two friends followed behind her not a second or two after but kept their footing. They helped the down girl up as they made a quick exit.
A plastic-soundingclick, click, clickcame right afterward.
Scarlett stood behind me, a gun pointed at the empty darkness. Her eyes were solid, but fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Without me having to prompt her, she lowered the gun, then turned around and went back inside.
“That fucking takes care of that.” I sighed, shutting and locking the door. The anger was so acute in me that I felt murderous, but one look at my wife and priorities took the lead over my temper. Those knocks had cost her.
