“Take a seat,” he says, gesturing toward a seating area with two couches facing each other, a coffee table between them.
I sit in the middle of one couch, smoothing my hands over my knees as Gino takes a seat across from me.
“I don’t know if I have a specific question, Ness.”
“Ness?” I echo, blinking at him.
“I think it’s a fun nickname for you,” he says easily. “It’ll be a sibling thing.”
The word sibling settles in my chest, unfamiliar and oddly comforting. No one’s ever given me a nickname before.
“Do I get to give you a nickname?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says, a sly grin tugging at his mouth. “If you can think of one.” I turn it over in my head for a second—and come up with nothing. Normally, something clever would spring to mind, but the nerves buzzing through me make my thoughts stall completely.
Gino jumps in before I can say anything. “Can’t think of one?” he asks, amused. “I’ll help you out, then. How about ‘best older brother’?”
I burst out laughing. “Yeah, that’s a hard no.” I pause, a thought clicking into place. “Wait—is Gino your full name?”
“Now you’re catching on,” he says, winking. “No, it’s Giovanni.”
I lower my voice. “Does everyone know that?”
“To be honest, they probably forgot,” he admits. “My mother wanted to name me Giovanni, but Dad thought it was too long. So I go by Gino. Legally, though, it’s Giovanni.”
“So what I’m hearing,” I say lightly, “is that you like keeping secrets, even your own name, from your friends?”
He chuckles. “I didn’t say secrets. I said they forgot. And I don’t think it’s necessary to correct them.”
For the next half an hour, Gino and I talk about everything and nothing. I learn he grew up playing sports and once dreamed of being apro athlete—until his dad shut that dream down, telling him his duty is to the family. In return, he asks about my childhood, about growing up with Kevin and Lucy.
“They were amazing,” I say honestly. “They filled the gaps Mom and Dad left.”
“I wish I’d grown up with them,” he admits quietly. “They seem to care a lot about you.”
“And you too,” I add. “Since we’re talking about Aunt Lucy and Uncle Kevin… do you know why Dad told them not to tell me about you? Or why didn’t he tell you, or anyone—about me?”
Gino exhales slowly, leaning back against the couch. “It was about protection,” he says. “After my mom died, Dad was terrified something would happen to me. He blamed himself.” His jaw tightens. “So he ran. Literally in the middle of the night.”
I stay quiet, letting him continue.
“Kevin eventually figured out where he’d gone and tracked him down. By the time he got there though, Dad had met your mom.” His gaze meets mine. “And she was pregnant with you.”
He continues, “So Kevin hung back for a while. When your mother got sick, Dad told her everything. And I mean everything. About his role in the mafia. About me. About my mom.” He pauses. “As you know, your mom made him promise to keep you out of it for as long as he could.”
His voice lowers. “When your mom died, it destroyed him. You remind him so much of her that he needed distance and time.” He exhales slowly. “Grief makes you do things you never think you’re capable of. Dad thought you would be better with Lucy and Kevin and not him.”
He looks away for a moment before adding, “He didn’t really parent me either. Mateo’s parents are the ones who raised me.”
I nod, my throat tight. “I’m sorry he wasn’t there for either of us.”
“Me too,” he says quietly. “It sucks that we didn’t get to know each other growing up, but hopefully you’ll want to spend more time here—so we can change that.” He looks over to me, waiting.
“I would love to,” I say, smiling back at him.
“After dinner tonight, would you want to go to the basketball game?” he asks. “I bought tickets for Juliet and me.”
“Sure,” I reply easily. “I do love basketball.”
