They clinked glasses, and it seemed like everyone but Sharon, me, and Aniello grinned.
“The point is,” Quentin said, beating his finger against the table like a drum. “It’s normal, even for men like O’Banion, to have to decompress. Even though we’re made out to be monsters, we’re still human. We’ll always be human if we bleed. If we can die. As long as we have one thing that makes us feel when nothing else can.”
Aniello’s eyes moved to Quentin’s. Quentin met his stare and lifted his glass, as if he was toasting to whatever private thought passed between them.
“Mortal, as some people would call it,” Abe said.
“Not you!” Catherine slapped her hand over her heart, being dramatic.
“Not me, baby,” he said. “I have no clue what that means.”
“You do,” Sharon said, “when you get the flu.”
Again, the entire table laughed, except for Sharon, me, and Aniello.
“The fatal fucking flaw,” Aniello said and downed his glass of whiskey. “Hamartia.”
Aniello’s voice was cold and hard. It was as if having a flaw was something he couldn’t stand, because he had no control over it. It was like being born with something that couldn’t be changed or altered. Even more eternal than eye or hair color, because it couldn’t be touched, and it made him…human, which meant that he had a vulnerable spot.
That went for the both of us.
If I was his, he was mine.
If you die, I die.
“Yeah,” I said, lifting my empty glass, watching as a droplet of red wine swirled around. “It’s called love, any way you look at it, and when it gets under your skin, it can become your greatest strength or your deepest weakness.”
In a move that almost seemed violent, even though it was quiet and smooth, Aniello stood and fixed his jacket and tie. Then, after nodding to Quentin and Abe, he walked away from the table. Sharon stood and followed in his direction, but she turned at the last second and headed toward the bathroom.
No one said anything as Paul, Peppin and Lina’s son, seemed to appear out of nowhere. He took Aniello’s empty seat. I wondered if Ginevra was going to show up and make things even more awkward, but Paul only ordered one drink.
A few minutes passed, and each couple started talking amongst themselves, which left the two of us not speaking to anyone. After he cleared his throat, he made pleasant small talk. He asked me if I enjoyed the show and if I wanted more wine.
He cleared his throat again after I told him yes and then no. “Ma and Pop really like you,” he said. “They were glad you came today.”
He was being pleasant enough, but I was wary of him. I trusted Aniello, almost blindly, but I wasn’t naive when it came to the world. Something about Paul put me on edge.
“It was nice,” I said, swirling the red liquid around the glass again. “You have a beautiful family.”
“Had a beautiful family,” he said.
I turned to him and met his stare.
“No one wants to say anything, but I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of him since we were kids and he showed up on our door. No matter what he does, he’s never wrong, even though he acts like the fucking devil. He thinks he can do whatever he wants. Whenever he wants.” He stood abruptly, looking down on me. “If I were you, I’d run. Far, far away.”
I was going to tell him that if he knew what the fuck was good for him, he should run far, far away, but he caught me off guard when he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Aniello’s wife tried to run before. Ask her how that turned out.”
My eyes connected with Simone’s from across the table. I could see her, but it was like I wasn’t really looking at her. It was as if I wanted to break free of my skin and run, but it was burning, everywhere, and I couldn’t put it out. I was burning in front of all these people that I knew but didn’t.
His wife?
Aniello had a wife.
Ginevra? Sharon? Which one was she?
Ginevra came to mind first. The baby. He probably had an entire family that I had no clue about. Or maybe I did before.
Was that why I ran from him to Richie? I’d found out? And he didn’t want to fucking tell me again?
