“How about this?” I whispered. “Ti amo più della mia stessa vita.” It felt almost like magic between us, and if I pressed a little harder against his chest, his heart would beat in the palm of my hand.
“You love me more than your own life,” he translated.
“I do,” I said. “I always will.”
With no words left to say, he leaned down and kissed me.
He kissed me like the world was burning down around us, and neither of us knew it, and even if we did, we didn’t care. We’d become the statue in the Hamartia Garden.
He kissed me like there was no tomorrow unless the two of us were together.
After he was done, and I opened my eyes, I used his shoulders to brace myself as I lifted and kissed him once on his forehead, once on his chin, on each cheek, and then sealed it with another kiss on his lips.
I kissed him the same way the next night, and come morning, he was gone.
* * *
The sun burnedthrough the blinds the entire day. It was relentlessly hot. Hot enough that a bunch of neighborhood kids tried to fry an egg on the sidewalk.
Even though daylight usually brought peace, because the monsters were tucked away, it only brought me unease. I was used to the darkness. To the monsters that were skilled at becoming a part of it as they lurked around each corner.
This. This burning daylight. It made me feel unsure, exposed.
I’d known what Aniello had gone to do. Face his boss. But wherever he went, I went too, and that left both of us vulnerable. Each of us had a strong side and a weak side. My strong side connected with his weak, and his strong side connected with my weak.
Sighing, I let the blind fall back into place.
Quentin and Simone, along with Abe and Catherine, had slipped in right as Aniello slipped out. I could hear them downstairs, talking amongst themselves. They were discussing whatever Abe had decided to cook for dinner.
Apparently, Abe had taken a page out of Dean O’Banion’s book and found a hobby that helped him decompress. It wasn’t floristry, but cooking.
My back ran with sweat, and I wondered if the gun tucked back there would be slick. It was hell having to wear a sweatshirt over my jean shorts when it was so hot, but there was no other place to hide it.
Even though Niello trusted Quentin and Abe, I also knew he didn’t trust anyone but me one hundred percent. In this life, it was every man or woman for him or herself. Friendship only went so far. Even blood only went so far. I remembered hearing about two sons who killed their father because it was ordered.
Another sigh left my lips, and I took a seat on the bed. The thought of fathers brought Peppin to mind.
Early that morning, he’d come to see me. Actually, he came to check on me.
He stood at the door with an old little-league baseball hat covering his head.
I’d met him at the door, not wanting him to step foot in the house. It seemed unsafe to me, and if something were to happen, I didn’t want him around. This was our fight, not his. As far as I could tell, he and his wife had lived a good life—meaning, they were good people who seemed to do the right thing.
It was the same reason why Angelia was not in my arms. I refused to allow any part of this life to touch hers. Until Niello came back,he would come back, she was safe where she was.
The thought of him not coming back made my throat feel like it was coated in ash, and I sucked in a breath and released it, trying to dislodge the bitterness of the thought.
“Just thought I’d check on you,” Peppin had said. “See how it was going.”
“Could be better,” I’d said. “Aniello left sometime during the night.”
He nodded once, a real solemn look on his face. “That feeling,” he said. “The one that refuses to leave the pit of your heart. It’s stuck in mine. Can’t dislodge it. After years of watching him walk out our door, never knowing if we’d ever see or hear from him again, it’s there permanently.”
I’d sighed, knowing that feeling all too well. “It’s stuck in mine too.”
The weight of the memory brought me back onto the bed. Before I knew it, I fell asleep. It was restless, punctuated by bone-deep tremors from things I refused to dwell on.
Like my husband’s life.
