Standing on shaking legs, I kissed them each again, telling them to stay close. Mariano held on to me the longest, but Matteo’s eyes were hard on mine. Not in anger. No. I saw the truth. He was afraid to let me go. But to take him in my arms would be to break him unless he came to me first.
“You’re the man of this family right now,” I said in Italian. “Take care of your sister and brothers, ah?”
He stood up taller. “Sì,Papà.”
Mia picked up Marciano, and he rested his head against her shoulder. She reached out to hug Mariano to her side.
Matteo took a step forward, squaring his shoulders, standing in front of them.
I was halfway to the hall when my name was shouted, causing me to stop and turn.
“Papà!” Matteo ran to me so hard that I lost my breath when we connected.
Swooping him up, I cradled him to me like the baby he used to be. He cried into my shoulder, hardly able to breathe.
“Mamma,” he cried. “She understands. She understands me,Papà.”
“Yeah.” My voice broke, my lips pressed against his temple. “She understands me, too. The only one who can.” I sniffed, containing the anguish.
The anguish that she couldn’t see this—that she wasn’t here to see how we connected over her.
He nodded, holding on tighter.
“I understand you, too,” I whispered, kissing him again. “I know you, son.”
“Fratello,” Rocco said again, more anxious.
“Come to me,” Romeo said in Italian, holding out his hand for my son.
He wouldn’t go, but after I told him there was no shame, that being strong meant that sometimes we asked for help, he did.
Reluctant. Just as reluctant as I was to let him go. To let any of them go.
Scarlett’s mother was being held up by Eunice, close to the door, trying to hide her feelings. She was always good at that. Shielding her own children from the devastation she felt after Elliott had been killed. But she had lost one child, had been skinned to the bone, and the older she got, the more transparent she became.
“My daughter?” she asked in Slovenian.
Rocco shook his head—we all understood a few words in the language. I was too weak to even ask what that meant, but the rage that had been contained for so long started to rear its head, the beast inside of me losing all control, though somehow, I stayed in my skin.
His violence provided the strength for me to move forward.
“Brando!” Eunice pleaded, from behind me. “Don’t l-let her. Don’t l-let her go!”
I continued to walk toward the car, on death row, still determined to show the monster to the world, though on the inside, he was susceptible to wounds that could bleed a man dry.
Maybe I wasn’t so innocent. Maybe I was paying for my sins.
That’s not true, her voice echoed in my thoughts.You’re a good man, my husband. Just too tough for your own good.
“Yeah,” I muttered to myself, staring out of the window while life passed me by. “Tough. No one is tough. Not when you’re standing on the other side. I’m a slave to this fucking world without you.”
Tear-streaked faces met me when I arrived at the hospital. My father-in-law sat in the corner, head hanging, tears steadily falling from his face. Violet hid her face in Mitch’s chest, her cries growing louder. Maggie Beautiful went to rush up to me, to take me in her arms, but I lifted a hand. Luca was nowhere to be found.
The doctor. I went straight for her.
She went to touch me but then held up her hands. “We tried all we could, Mr. Fausti. But your wife, she passed on…”
Somethingclickedinside of my mind, and red seemed to rush in, before everything went dark.
