I take a deep breath. “Hard to say. Months. She won’t survive the year.” I try not to feel anything when I say it, but that’s impossible. “Come on, let’s go in.”
She opens her door and by the time she climbs out, I’m at her side, our bags on my shoulder. I take her hand and turn to the large wooden doors illuminated softly by the old-fashioned lanterns on either side. I love this house. Always have. And one day, it’ll be mine.
The doors open as we approach and my father stands at the entrance. He barely glances at me. He’s been waiting to see Natalie ever since I told him this morning that I was bringing her.
“Dad,” I say as we climb the stairs. “Were you watching out the window?” I give him a hug and he pats my back.
“First girl you bring home? Yeah, I’m watching out the window.”
Natalie stands tense beside me. My dad’s not hiding the fact that he’s looking her over from head to toe—taking her measure. He’s gauging whether or not she’s worthy of me. The real question is areweworthy ofher.
“This is Natalie Gregorian,” I say. “Let’s try and not scare her off before she’s inside, okay?”
My father’s eyes are on hers and he lifts his chin a little. There’s a moment of awkward silence before he extends a hand to her.
“Welcome, Natalie Gregorian.”
I swear I hear Natalie swallow. My father can be overbearing, and that’s putting it mildly.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Benedetti,” Natalie says, sliding her hand into his. He doesn’t quite shake it, just holds it in his and I swear he hasn’t blinked.
I look at him, try to see him as she is seeing him. Not like his son. His favorite son.
Dominic may be my mom’s favorite, but I’ve always been my dad’s. I almost feel sorry for Salvatore.
Not for the first time in my life, I see a coldness in my father’s eyes. A ruthlessness. Is that what she sees? I wonder how much like him I am. Wonder if I should feel anything about that, because I don’t.
Natalie finally drops her gaze and clears her throat.
“It’s cold,” she says to me.
I get the feeling she doesn’t mean the weather. “Let’s go in.”
As the door closes behind us, voices come from around the corner. Salvatore and my mom. I’m doing the same thing now. Seeing them the way she must see them. My mom is the opposite of my dad. Warm and welcoming, her smile authentic and immediate.
Salvatore looks like a giant beside her, she’s lost so much weight. He’s a big guy, big as me, but that’s not why she looks so small.
I shift my gaze to my brother, wonder what Natalie’s seeing. If she recognizes the darkness that clings to him. That shadow of somberness. But maybe that’s because it’s hard not to think about the fact that this may be the last time we’re here like this. With mom alive. Not in a goddamned box.
“Sergio,” my mom says. I take her in my arms, feel the flesh and bone she’s become. Curse the fucking cancer that’s raging a war inside her.
“Mom. You look good.” She’s wearing a light pink headscarf.
“No, I don’t, kiddo.”
No, she doesn’t. What I told Natalie is right. She won’t last the year. She has months and I’m unprepared.
“Mom, this is Natalie. Natalie, this is my mom.”
She shifts her gaze to Natalie, takes her outstretched hand in both of hers. “Natalie,” she says, then pulls her in for a hug. “It’s so good to meet you. We’re glad to have you here with us.”
The warmth of her reception is so opposite my father’s.
“It’s good to meet you too, Mrs. Benedetti.”
“Sergio’s never brought a girl home,” she says, winking, pulling back to look Natalie over. She cocks her head to the side and studies her eyes for a moment longer than is comfortable. But then she gives her a nod. “I see what he sees in you.”
I glance at Natalie, see her blush.
