Elio hugs his aunts and uncles, then trots alongside me as we make our way around the side of the house. “Why were you arguing?” He frowns as he stares up at me. He’s shot up a lot this past year, and I can already tell he’s going to be taller than me.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
His brow creases in concentration, and he nibbles on his lip as we walk to where the bodyguards are waiting. Nodding in acknowledgment at John Angelo and Umberto, I stride toward my BMW as my men climb into the SUV. Even though Pablo Fuentes has been dealt with and a tentative peace deal is in place with his much more reasonable brother, I still take zero chances, insisting bodyguards come everywhere with us.
John Angelo turned down the capo promotion I offered him five years ago, requesting instead promotion to head bodyguard. I readily agreed, and it was a good decision. As well as being my personal bodyguard, he manages the bodyguard team that protects me, my son, my mother, and my sister. He’s kept us safe, and I’m grateful. He’s approaching retirement, and we’ve already begun discussion on succession planning. I will miss the guy who’s become a quasi-father figure as much as a valued employee.
“Dad,” Elio says when we’re on the road a few minutes later. “Are you going to marry Auntie Isa?”
I arch a brow. “Where’d you hear that?”
“I overheard Auntie Isa talking on the phone last weekend.”
The contract has only been drawn up, and nothing is signed, so Isa should not be talking about it to anyone. Goddamn her. I rub at my throbbing temples. Fuck, maybe my friends are right, and I should look for someone else to enter into an arrangement with.
“I am considering entering into a marriage contract with your aunt, but nothing has been agreed yet.” Elio is aware of his heritage and the traditions associated withCosa Nostra,so he knows what this means. My son has embraced our world, and he’s already told me he wants to initiate at thirteen. Taking my eyes off the road for a second, I look at my son. “How would you feel about it if I did marry her?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, thinking about it. “Will it make you happy?”
I never want to lie to my son, but how the fuck do I answer truthfully? “It’s not about me being happy. It’s about my responsibility as a don. It’s time I took a wife, gave you those siblings you long for, and a mother.”
He’s pensive again, and I give him time to think about it as I take the exit for the highway. “I love Auntie Isa, and I’d like a little brother, but the only thing I need is my dad.” My chest swells with love for my son. It’s been the two of us for so long, and in a lot of ways, I don’t want that to change. But that’s the selfish side of me speaking. We have a tight bond; one I worry might change if I bring others into our huddle. Elio glances at me, and he looks and sounds more mature than his years when he says, “Grandma says life without love is only half a life. She says your love for me is really big, but your love for Sloane is big too, and you’re sometimes sad because you miss her.”
My heart is a shredded, bleeding mess that has robbed my senses of normal functionality, but I somehow manage to force a response. “I didn’t know Grandma had spoken to you about Sloane.” Elio missed her a lot at the start, crying for her at night on so many occasions. I wasn’t the only DiPietro to fall hard. It hurt him every time her name was brought up, so I stopped mentioning her. He was only four when she came into his life, and I assumed he’d long since forgotten about her. “Do you remember her?”
“Not much,” he admits, leaning his elbow against the car door and propping his head on his hand. “She built me a space station,” he adds, looking wistful.
“She did.”
“And she was an amazing basketball player.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. “She was.”
“I know you have pictures of her in your drawer,” he says. “I found them one day. She’s very pretty.”
“She’s beautiful,” I choke out. “Inside and out.”
“You should marry Sloane,” he says with confidence, shrugging like the decision is no biggie.
It’s a miracle I don’t crash the car. It takes several minutes to compose myself because my son has left me speechless. Elio pulls out his tablet and begins searching through his movie database as I finally find my voice. “I would if I could, but she’s gone, buddy. I tried finding her, but she disappeared without a trace.” It takes effort to keep things lighthearted when it feels like my heart is splintering inside my chest. I will never be able to think about Sloane and not feel heart-crushing pain.
“Well, that sucks,” he says equally casually as he turns on a movie. His head lifts briefly. “But maybe you should keep looking for her. That’s what I would do.”
Wise words from a wise little man. I’m still mulling over it when we enter Manhattan. I think I’m only now realizing how grown-up Elio is getting. He’s smart and kind with a big heart, and I’m so proud of him.
The main streets are congested with traffic, so I take a shortcut, zipping along narrower side streets, heading in the direction of Isa’s apartment. The bodyguards keep pace with us, staying close to the rear.
Thoughts of Sloane rotate through my mind, and the more I think about it, the more I realize everyone is right. I can’t marry Isa. She will push for more, and it’d be a disaster. But mostly, I can’t do it for Sloane. She’d hate for me to marry the woman who was so cruel to her. She’d hate for me to marry without love.
One more year.
I’ll give it one more year.
I’ll forget about marriage contracts for now and continue the search for Sloane. I’d know if she were no longer of this world. My heart would tell me, and right now, my heart is telling me not to give up. Someone out there knows something, and I’m determined to find them.
“Dad, watch out!” Elio shouts, and my foot instantly slams on the brake as a person darts across the road in front of me, seemingly out of nowhere. The next few seconds shave years off my life. It happens as if in slow motion. My mouth widens in horror as the person clad in a black hoodie and black sweatpants rolls over the hood of my car before dropping to the ground in a heap.
I’m out of the car on autopilot, vaguely conscious of other car doors opening and closing.
