He sent me to change in the bathroom, and then he left, his jaw working out the strain, going to convene with his brothers about his father’s condition.
Uncle Tito had only given us one update—the two bullets went in and came out clean, and he would live. I suggested that we stick around for a while, though, until we knew for sure.
Brando glared at me when I offered the suggestion, but he took my advice regardless.
The reflection staring back at me in the mirror made me gasp. I stared wide-eyed at myself. My face had blood splatters all over it, my hands were coated, and my dress was soaked. The blood served as a plasma-like glue that made fabric stick to skin.
A knock at the bathroom door almost sent me out of my skin. Juliette stood on the other side of it, delivering fresh clothes for me to change into.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Juliette crossed herself as she stopped right inside the bathroom. Her face went pale before she shook her head. “Bad day?”
I groaned. “That’s an understatement.”
“What happened?”
She handed me the fresh clothes as I told her the story, but as I dug in the bag, only a cashmere dress I used to sleep in had been packed, along with a thick cardigan. A pair of Italian tennis shoes were at the bottom.
“Violet packed the bag for you,” Juliette said when she noticed. She shrugged. “I guess she figured you weren’t going far, and you would want to get out of those clothes as quickly as possible.”
“True,” I said.
I peeled the fabric off myself, and the areas that had not yet coagulated came away with a sticky sucking noise. I needed a bath.Like yesterday.“Juliette?”
“Yes?” She looked up from staring at the saturated dress on the floor. The pink color of the dress made the blood look even more violent—a Valentine’s Day massacre of sorts.
“Has Romeo ever…” I stopped myself from going any further. What Luca had confessed in the car was told in confidence. How could I ask her if Romeo ever told her about what Luca had made him watch too? Brando hadn’t told me. The thought of him keeping that inside all those years tore my own heart to shreds. “I mean, does he talk to you about…things?”
She thought about that for a moment, her face tightening in thought. Then she relaxed. “Sometimes.” She sighed. “I wish he’d open up more, but…he makes jokes to cover his true feelings.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “I was wondering.”
I could tell she knew there was more, but unlike Rosaria, she wouldn’t press. These wild male creatures we called ours each came with a set of their own rules, even though they were connected by blood.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” she said, collecting the bloody clothes. “I would’ve been here sooner, but Matteo has been fussy. Brando tried to console him when you were gone. That worked for a while, but now he isn’t wanting anyone but you.”
“No one told me,” I said, my irritation rising like bile from an upset stomach.
“Don’t worry. I brought him with me. Romeo has him.”
“Will you bring him to me?”
“Sure.”
Both of my children were not fussy about either getting the bottle or the breast. As long as sustenance made it to their stomachs, they usually didn’t fuss if the breast wasn’t available twenty-four seven. Matteo was a bit more particular about the breast though. When he wanted it, he wanted it. He made a show of it too.
No one had told me, though, that he’d been fussy. Despite the chaos of the day, the fact that no one had told me irritated me.
Would Brando have told me if it was Mia? The thought irked me. I had heard his brothers say about their own sons—Let him cry it out. It’ll toughen him up.
The blood swirled in the tub, some of it slower to drain from the thickness of it compared to the thinner water. The sight would have probably unnerved me more if it wasn’t for the situation with Matteo. It had my blood boiling.
I heard him fussing before the door to the bathroom had even opened. Brando came in holding him.
As soon as I called his name, he quieted, but then started up again when I didn’t move fast enough to take him.
“Why didn’t you tell me he wanted me? That he’s been fussy all day?”
Brando gave me a look that easily translated into—You were gone, off playing Bonnie and Clyde with my father.
