Emiliano chooses that moment to come into the living room, holding Bianca in his arms. He must’ve heard me, because he grumbles, “Lucio apparently can.”
“Stop complaining. Your brother doesn’thaveto watch Bianca,” she tells him.
He gives her a grin, kissing the top of her head. I didn’t think there would be a day when my brother actually found love. He loved us, but he always said that marriage was a chore. A duty. Something to benefit the Camorra.
“Hey, Ma.” Eli moves toward Ma and also gives her a kiss on the head. “How have you been? Ronaldo said you were going in for more scans.”
Ma brushes his question off as she takes Bianca off his hands. “It’s nothing. No need to worry. How’s my granddaughter?”
Bianca beams at her nonna, giving her a smile.
“Oh, my God. When did she get her second tooth?” I ask, moving closer to Bee.
“She’s been teething for a while now, and crying for weeks,” Eli says.
When I look at him, I spot a volatile and vulnerable look in his eyes, his gaze locked on his daughter. I pity the fucker who’s going to fall in love with her.
“You guys need to head out. We’ll be fine here, and Matteo is on his way.”
Emiliano grabs his and Val’s coats, his brows knitted together. “Why’s Matteo coming?”
I shrug. “He said he wanted to talk about something, but I just think he wants to hang out with me and didn’t know how to say it.”
Val lets out a small laugh as she lifts her hair out of her coat. “He really needs to learn to be a better communicator.”
“It’s just the way he is. Even when we were kids, he had trouble expressing his feelings,” I tell her.
Ma nods, agreeing with me.
Eli rushes Valentina into the elevator, as if he can’t wait to get out of here and have his wife all to himself. Ma shakes her head in amusement before she settles on the L-shaped couch with Bee in her lap.
I drop my handbag on the chair opposite the couch and grab the TV remote, flicking through for a couple of seconds before dropping onto the chair. Nothing seems appealing right now.
“Are you okay, Mara?” Ma asks.
I look up at her, but her gaze is on Bianca.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask.
I don’t know if she heard me in the shower or what, but I’m really sick of everyone asking me the same damn questions. It not only pisses me the fuck off, but it makes me paranoid. Scared that they know what I do to myself: the cutting, the insomnia, the night terrors.
But they don’t know. And they don’t have a right to know. This is my problem, and I’m happy with the way I’ve chosen to deal with it. I don’t want them prying.
“That’s not what I asked, tesoro. But you look tired, and it isn’t just today.”
This time, she looks at me, and I see that look in her eyes. I hate that look—the one of pity. The look that saysI know you’re struggling.
I stand abruptly, feeling as if my skin is crawling with the anticipation of being found out.
“I’m making myself a drink. Do you want one?” I lick my lips as if I’m parched.
Ma shakes her head and goes back to looking at Bianca.
The kitchen is clean, counters organized, and bottles of milk are in the fridge, ready for Bianca. I wonder how Val adjusted to being a mother after everything she went through, the trauma of being taken and tortured.
She never talks about it. She acts as if the whole thing never happened. But I see the way her smile slips every once in a while, how she gets a faraway look in her eyes whenever she looks at Bianca.
A deep voice from the living room breaks me out of my trance. Matteo must be here.
