Wanting to hug her.
Wanting to cry into her shoulder and smell her hair, wrapping a strand of it around my finger like I did when I was a kid.
Wanting to feel her kiss on my tear-soaked cheeks and hear her saying, “Whatcha crying for, bestie boo? We’re together now, so there’s nothing to cry about.” Even though she’d be crying too.
That awful, clawing thing ripping me apart on the inside had grown even sharper claws, and it felt like it had found its way to my heart.
Matteo parked in his parents’ driveway, and when he got out to open my door, a whimper-sob erupted from my mouth. I was able to hold it down as he gave me his hand. It was Sunday, so his entire family had gotten together for dinner, and they were waiting outside, watching as we got out of the car. But one pair of eyes were on me, and they were heavy, reflecting the sadness that was stirring a scary storm inside of me.
Scarlett.
When our eyes met, she held her arms out and whispered, “Bebe.” I fell into them, and even though I wasn’t crying, on the inside, I felt like I was sobbing my blood out. It got hot in her arms, fast, and I wasn’t sure why. But when I broke away a little, I realized the entire family had huddled around us, and just like she had done, they brought me in and protected me with their arms.
Chapter 41
Matteo
We’d been in Natchitoches for six days, and my wife mostly stayed in my old room at my parents’ place. I enjoyed visiting, but not as much as my parents enjoyed living in the small Louisiana town. I had a branch there, but my roots had always been deeply buried in Italian soil. Part of my life was here, though, and that meant something to me.
So did the fact that my father and I had repaired our relationship here. When he’d forced me to move from Italy to Natchitoches, I’d felt like one day I could leave and never look back—including him in that picture. Years later, though, and I couldn’t picture my life without him in it.
My wife had my heart twisted and my stomach in knots. I knew what was coming, and as much as I braced for it, as much as I would try to steal it from her, grief couldn’t be stolen. And she’d buried it, hid it, for so long, it demanded to be seen. To be heard. To be felt. All that time locked away only made it stronger.
Her eyes had a vacant look in them most of the time, and she’d stare at nothing, too quiet. Even when everyone would try to bring her into a conversation, she’d nod or shake her head, then disappear into my old room. I’d follow behind her as sheslipped into bed, staring at the box of things Saverio had brought me from her mom.
She hadn’t told me it was time yet, and I knew it wasn’t, but we were close. So fucking close.
It was nice having mamma and Mia around. Even Violet, mamma’s childhood friend, to a certain degree, because she was lively. I could tell she would have been someone Stella enjoyed being around, but nothing short of me being close to her made her seem somewhat content. She’d told me that being around me felt safe, like she could disappear for a while, knowing I’d bring her back.
I slid my hand against my chest, feeling a tightness there when I even thought about her saying those words to me with as much ease as she did. It was like she took comfort in them while they fucking haunted me.
This was only the beginning of her grieving, and it hadn’t really touched the surface yet.
I swatted away a bug that kept buzzing around my face. I leaned against the porch railing and watched as the sun started to lower in the late summer sky. I didn’t know how she did it, but Violet had convinced Stella to get dressed for a night out at the local bar. Violet told Stella that, in exchange for her company, she’d tell her all about the shit Brando and Scarlett did in this small town, and how they were legendary in the bar we were going to.
Stella admitted to her that she’d never been to a bar like that. “A honky tonk?”
“Something like that.” Violet smiled. “And I’ll do your nails!”
Violet started to tell her about Poisonous Dawn, her husband’s old band, and how they were going to be playing at the honky tonk. I caught Stella’s eyes in the mirror and nodded. It was the first time she’d showed interest in anything since we arrived, so I figured, what the fuck, let’s go. Everyone decided totag along, and as usual, two became twenty. Except for Padrino. He was going to talk to Massimo.
While the women were doing all the girlie shit they do, all the men decided to wait on the porch. Sweat rolled down my face, and I had to keep wiping it with my arm. Humidity felt like it was at ninety nine percent, and even in the evening, it was over a hundred degrees.
No wonder my old man had gills instead of lungs. He had developed them out of necessity down here. I also thought that was how Mariano got his love for horses and beer. Nonno had kicked it off with the horses when we’d sword fight, but this small town had stuck a beer in his hand and welcomed him home.
“Fuck.” Marciano took a seat next to Mariano on the swing. “It feels like we’re swimming out here. I just took a shower, and it feels like I didn’t even dry off.”
“Yeah.” Mariano pushed at his head. “And your fucking deodorant is working overtime.”
My old man came to stand next to me. Graziana had grown so much in the short time since I’d seen her, and my old man had more silver in his hair since the last time I’d seen him. The passage of time made me rub the spot over my heart again.
My old man didn’t miss a thing. He watched me do it, then shook his head. “It’s like looking in a mirror at a younger me when you do that.”
“How’d you survive it? The pain in your chest?”
He pulled out a pack of antacids. “Here.” He handed them to me. “I bought these for you.”
“Uncle Tito,” I said.
