CHAPTER 42
SOFIA
I’m sore all over when I wake up, but it’s pleasant. I feel like I’ve had an incredible workout, not like I’ve been involved in a fight. All the sex really made a difference. Not only that, but I feel calmer than I have in years. I remember shooting Carlo Andretti, but I can’t seem to summon any remorse. In fact, it feels like my whole quest for vengeance on behalf of my brother has been laid to rest.
I picture Danny lying on the couch with his head shattered, but even that doesn’t get a rise out of me. I found my brother’s killer and destroyed him, effectively shutting the book that had been keeping me up at night.
Frankie is lying beside me. He looks so sweet with his eyes shut and his hair a mess. There is a splotch of red across the bridge of his nose, but it’s nothing alarming. Pulling back the covers, I can see a few bruises beginning to form around his ribcage. I think we’re both going to be in pain for a while, but we’ll live.
Frankie murmurs something and tugs the blanket back up to his chin. I kiss him on the cheek and sneak out the opposite sideof the bed. There’s plenty of room, but I’m faced with another problem.
I don’t have any clothes. There’s no way in hell I’m going to put on the dirty clothes from yesterday. They’re covered in blood and I left them in the bathroom down the hall. Hopefully, Marlena or one of her staff members will burn them. They’re evidence of a crime as well as being disgusting, so that’s not an option.
I certainly can’t go downstairs wearing a towel. And I don’t want to wake Frankie up to ask for something to put on. So, I walk to his dresser, hoping to find something that will work without disturbing him. I send a silent prayer skyward that I won’t find anything I’m not supposed to see. I’ve already been caught spying on this family once, and I don’t want a repeat performance of that situation.
Opening the first drawer, I immediately locate a pair of pajamas. This is perfect because I’m not in the mood to go snooping for much longer. I tug out the pants and hold them up to my waist. They’re a bit too big, but I don’t think anyone will care. After all we’ve been through, seeing me in ill-fitting pajamas isn’t even going to be a blip on their radars.
I step into the pajama bottoms and pull on the top. The waist is way too big, so I have to hold onto it with one hand. The legs fall over my feet, so I stop in Frankie’s living room to sit down and roll up the cuffs. Looking ridiculous, but feeling ten times better, I let myself out of Frankie’s suite and into the hallway.
There’s no one around, so I go to check the bathroom. I just want to satisfy my curiosity about my clothes. The bathroom is spotless; obviously, someone came in to clean after I was done.The bloodstained clothing is gone, which makes me feel like the whole thing was some kind of horrific dream.
I walk downstairs, having never experienced breakfast in this household before. I’m shocked to find several strange men hanging about. They don’t pay any attention to me though, so I don’t have to explain my strange attire.
I walk into the kitchen to find Marlena in front of the stove. She looks up and smiles, her eyes giving me a once over that is more friendly than critical.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I should have given you something to wear.”
“It’s okay,” I respond. “I just want a cup of coffee.”
“Over here,” Marlena says, pointing to the coffee pot. “I can’t drink coffee anymore.”
“That’s so sad,” I commiserate.
Marlena sighs wistfully. “I only have a few more years.”
I reach for a cup from one of the cabinets, holding my pants up with my free hand. “A few more years?” I ask.
“I don’t want the coffee to affect the baby while I’m breastfeeding either,” she explains.
“Hmm,” I reply, not sure how I feel about that. “Maybe you can have just a little bit.”
“No,” she exclaims, “I’ll be fine. Other people deal with worse things all the time.”
“You mean like being shot at?” I guess.
“Yes,” she agrees.
“How do you do it?” I wonder. “I mean, how are you so calm about being Mrs. Francisco Corello?”
“Francisco is wonderful,” Marlena says with a sigh. “And I admit, it did take some getting used to.”
I set the mug down on the counter so that I can reach for the coffee pot without flashing everyone. Pouring myself a strong cup, I forego any kind of additives. Black coffee will work fine. I want that strong bite of caffeine to bring me back to life, and cream and sugar seems like too much trouble now.
I take a seat at the breakfast table but jump up a moment later to help Marlena. I’m handicapped with one hand attached to my pants, but I do what I can. Together, we manage to transfer the eggs she’s been cooking to two plates and walk them back to the table.
We sit down and begin to eat in silence. I’m starving, and I haven’t realized it until just now. The moment the eggs hit my tongue, I’m overwhelmed by the flavor. It’s almost better than sex, and considering the night I had, that’s saying a lot.
Marlena fills me in on some of her story. She has a brother in college, but not much of a family. Until Francisco introduced her to her Italian relatives, she thought she was pretty much an orphan.
