“How are you,bebe?”
I sighed, and it did nothing to release the intense pressure stuck in my chest. “Could be better.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Goosebumps appeared on my arms in reaction to her “gift.” She already knew I was struggling, so I wasn’t going to waste her time on a repeat.
“Are you sure the boat is still coming back for me?” I hated that my voice sounded so defeated, almost pleading, but Ihadto be on that island. I needed the sun. The water. The sky and air there.
A chance at a new life. A new start.
The accident on the way to the island had stalled me. The boat had left without me, but after I called Eva, she had told me another one would come ashore to get me. I still had a job.
I needed to hear it again for sanity’s sake. I also needed to hear it because I was quickly running out of money. I had accommodations on the island and a paycheck to look forward to. Plus, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in Italy proper—not if Rosaria Caffi’s adoring fans ever found out I had caused the accident that ripped her away from them. Her family too.
“Yes,” she said. “I spoke to Scarlett. It’s not a problem. Her family is going through a lot right now, but she promised me she would take care of it. She already has.”
“Okay.” I sighed, the weight of it lowering me to the mattress, where I felt like I was sinking into it, about to suffocate. I hoped the island would throw me a life jacket.
“Get some rest,bebe,” she whispered. “Know that tomorrow begins a new day. A new start.”
Just what I needed to hear.
It was as if her truth became the Mediterranean Sea, and it started to rock me—right to sleep.
Chapter 10
No Man is an Island
The susurrus of the wind seemed to echo as swirling voices inside of my head. Real but not real enough. The cavernous hollows inside of me held these messages as close as a lover would.
My eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun and the water. I stared at it as it passed underneath the yacht, the voice of yesteryear whispering in my ear.
Rosaria adored this yacht. We had honeymooned on one that had been similar.
She and Scarlett had warred on one, creating a fissure between them that could not be fully mended.
Glancing up, I saw that Scarlett sat next to my brother, her eyes faraway. I wondered if she was recalling that time as well.
Everywhere I looked. Every step I took.
I could not escape the memories, which had turned vicious, as my wife had preferred.
Fitting.
She would take pleasure in that.
The memories were ghosts haunting a ghost.
I allowed my head to hang as I stared at my hands, which dangled, as if I had no power nor will to control them. If I wasordered to move by my father, I would have, but with no conscious thought behind it.
Rosaria’s death had become mine. Though my mind was alive with haunting memories.
The most recent ones:
Traveling to Louisiana to visit my son, who had been shackled as my father had been. His body was strong and resilient, but his eyes allowed me to see a battle he could not win. When I told him of Rosaria and what had happened to her, it was as if cold and hot clashed at once. Grief and relief warring. Rosaria had torn him in two, split him down the middle as she did me, and he could not mend the two sides together.
My father sitting me in his office and ordering me to take a leave of absence from my position in the family to locate my heart again.
