27
ALLEGRA
I feelthe rain in my bones, even though the umbrella does a good job of shielding my body. On the sidelines, I can only watch the ceremony before they put Romina in the ground. The immediate family is sitting by the coffin, all of them wearing black with desolate expressions on their faces. All but Enzo, that is. His face is somber, his features not giving away anything.
Compared to the wailing Lucia or even the bereft Rocco, you'd think him the most heartless man present, the brother who sheds no tears for his sister.
But I can see it's just a mask for the world. Inside, his grief is threatening to spill out, and his might be the most genuine pain of the bunch.
It's been three days since the pronouncement, and I've barely seen my husband. Everyone else has been at the house, gathering for the funeral and wake and turning a tragic event into a merry one.
I'd witnessed Rocco getting drunk with his friends, their voices booming in the house, the memory of Romina nothing more than a passing thought. He'd been angry, not because hisprecious daughter had died, but because the family's interests had perished with her.
Valentino Lastra, Romina's husband, had been taken in for questioning, and word spread around the Agosti house that they were officially at war with the Lastras.
From what I'd gathered, Rocco had been loath to do this because Lastra was one of his main distributors, but appearances dictated he respect the honor of the deceased and avenge her memory. And so reluctantly, Rocco, too, had followed his peers in denouncing Lastra.
Only Enzo had been quiet. Watching, but not really interacting. He'd been the first at the morgue and the last to leave after Romina's body had been sent to the funeral home.
And until now, he hadn't said a word.
Yet, I can see a deep disappointment welling inside of him, and I feel powerless to do anything but stand by and watch.
I'd seen his attitude toward Catalina and the affection he bears her, so I can only assume he has the same feelings for his other sisters, even the older ones.
The guests pay their last respects, and finally, Romina's coffin is lowered into the ground. Lucia hurries to the pit, bawling her eyes out and yelling at the unfairness of it all.
Enzo is still rooted to the spot, staring at the fresh earth covering the grave. Even when everyone leaves, he's still there, the rain slowly falling on him.
"Enzo?" I walk to his side, worry eating at me. I've never seen him like this, and I don't know what to do to help him.
He doesn't answer; he doesn't even acknowledge my presence.
I sit by him, the dreariness of the weather only emphasizing the emptiness inside.
"I failed her too," his words are barely audible. "I saw her, you know…" he starts talking, the pain in his voice unmistakable, "her body battered and full of bruises. I kept thinking…what madman would do that to someone as sweet as Romina?" He shakes his head, swallowing hard.
"It's not your fault." How could he even think to blame himself?
"Isn't it? I vowed to protect them, and yet I couldn't. First Lina, and now…" He trails off, and as I lift my gaze to look at him, he's thrown his umbrella to the ground. Head raised, eyes closed, rain is slowly dripping all over his face. But is it just rain, or is it also…?
There's so much anger radiating off him that I'm scared to approach, worried I might do something to set him off. But I can'tnotgo. I need to show him he's not alone.
He still has me.
Abandoning my umbrella to the ground, I brace myself as the cold drops of rain hit my skin, fitting themselves into my hair. I move closer and just slide my hand in his.
It takes a second, but he gives my hand a quick squeeze, lifting it and bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss.
We stay like this for the longest time, wrapped in each other and the rain, neither speaking. I'd look back later and recognize this as the moment Enzo fundamentally changed.
I thoughtwe'd established a connection, but as the days pass, Enzo becomes even more closed off. The few times I see him in passing, he's always drinking.
I want to reach out to him and take his mind off the pain, but I don't know how.
Sighing, I close the book I was reading, standing up to pace in front of my window. He's probably holed up in his study, drinking even more. I hadn't had the courage to go in there yet, but seeing that he has no intention of giving me an opening, I'll have to make one for myself.
I'd already devoured most of the books we'd bought from the Strand, including the romance novels. Now, thinking back to what I'd read in those, my cheeks redden, but my resolve strengthens.
