I wanted—I looked to my right at the sound of a throat clearing. Luca. He nodded to me once and then rose from his seat. Maggie Beautiful squeezed his hand before he made his way to the back of the stage.
A heavy sigh came from my lips, but the pressure didn’t lighten. Scarlett took my hand and squeezed. Turning her face forward, she made it clear that she wasn’t going to let my hand go. She had sensed something in me. Something I hadn’t found the conviction to say yet.
The lights went down, the curtain up, and applause rose when the announcer walked off the stage. We sat through numerous performances. Rosaria and her family were performing tonight, as was Luca, with one of the few men he called friend—one of the world’s most respected classical musicians, who hailed from Italy.
They sang together, and afterward received roaring applause and a standing ovation.
The concert continued, and Scarlett, so touched by one of the duets, half in Italian, half in English, put her hand to her heart, tapping against her chest in time to the music. Tears streamed down her face.
I studied her a little closer, my eyes narrowed.
If I’d noticed them before—they had become a part of her that seemed natural—but in that moment, they were pronounced, the soft lights in the building highlighting each one.
Laugh lines beside her eyes.
Not deep, but there, nonetheless.
As she aged, I knew she’d do so with grace, her skin firm and her posture a reflection of her youth. It gave me both a pang and an indescribable pleasure to see them. I had the honor to watch this woman grow old, her love still strong even after our graves.
Only God knew how she got laugh lines loving me most of her life, but there they were. Indisputable proof, as she’d say.
Using the back of my hand, I wiped the tears streaming down her face, bringing my wet skin to my mouth, rubbing along my lips.
“Scarlett,” I whispered.
It took her a moment to compose herself. She took a deep, shaky breath, releasing it in a slow, cool stream.
Finally, she looked at me.
“Stiamo andando a casa, mia moglie.”
“We—we’re going home?” Her voice came out timid, unsure. “For how long?”
“Indefinitamente.”
Indefinitely.
Part III
Home
5
Brando
“He’ll come around.” Scarlett continued to go through the few boxes we had shipped from Italy. “This is a new place. It’s much smaller, even through his eyes, and much quieter. Without his cousins, he feels like he’s lost his best friends. He’s never really had friends, Brando. His cousins are his friends. Hisnonnogoes without saying.”
Ever since we’d moved back to Louisiana, Matteo had become quieter than usual, even more hostile toward his brothers. And when I caught him looking at me, the resentment couldn’t be missed. His grandfather’s influence rested heavy in his eyes. All the words he wanted to say were at the surface of his thoughts.
You brought us here.You brought us tothisplace, where people mostly speak English, are not as cultured, and do not understand who we are! WeareItaly!
All the same accusations Luca had thrown at me, even the threat that had been present in his eyes. The angry heat I felt from his body. He would keep in touch with my wife and children because they were his, just as much as they were mine, but as for me—he turned his back on me.
It burned him up that all our money was just that. Ours. Made by the two of us. We didn’t need his support. He couldn’t wield it over my head. I had made sure that not only would I be self-sufficient, but that the money my brothers and I used to invest started with me. Money he had never touched.
The power he felt was his never really was, and that angered him even more. How could he tell menoto moving back home, when his father was the one who had given me permission in the first place? Marzio’s death would’ve been in vain if Luca had denied the request.
I had him there. He knew it.
