“He should do well with that. It’s his first language.”
I hang my head low in shame. I should have spoken more Italian when he was growing up, but after Magnus was sent down, we moved away, changed our names, and I spoke English as much as possible, even adapted the local accent over time. Anything to erase my past.
“He’s good at Italian, French, and Spanish. But he’s really sharp on a computer. Hopefully, he’ll put those skills to gooduse one day instead of just gaming. With his knack for languages and tech, he could end up in foreign intelligence if he wanted.” I silently laugh to myself, realising the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“Don’t let your brother hear you say that. He’ll want him working for him.”
“If Elio had his way, I’d be working for him, too.” I love my brother, but after my father passed away, he stepped right into our father’s shoes, running the family business with our uncle’s help. Growing up, I’d hoped he’d carve out his own path, but I guess this is all he knows.
Mamma brings her handkerchief to her mouth as she coughs again.
I take my phone from her and hand her the cup of water.
She takes another sip and drops her head back on the pillow with a sigh. “Get me out of this stuffy room, would you? I’ve been cooped up in here all week.”
“Let me see if I can get the nurse to help me get you into a wheelchair and we’ll go for a stroll around the grounds.”
Freedom.
The world always feels a little softer in the sun. Seeing Mamma after so long, it almost feels like coming home. Even if Rome still holds shadows of Dan, part of me still wants to belong here, to cling to the memories, to the way it felt to be loved by him… before I knew the harsh truth.
5
DAN
Ikeep my distance, following Rose into the hospital. She greets her brother just ahead, and I hang back, half hidden behind a vending machine, trying to act casual but probably looking more like Inspector Clouseau. Only it’s not the Pink Panther I’m hunting—it’s a pink flight attendant who stole my sanity.
Elio, her brother, turns his head as if sensing my eyes burning into the back of his jacket. The man’s harmless enough. Nothing like his ruthless father or his uncle. If I’d stepped on Italian soil while their uncle was alive, I’d have been a dead man, but when he passed, so did a lot of his grudges.
I listen to their exchange, realising her mother’s ill. I’m not sure Elio or her mother would recognise me after all this time, but with the ink on my hands and neck, I stand out.
Silently I curse myself for having these markings, even if the roses are a reminder that beneath everything beautiful lies a bed of thorns. And every soft petal is laced with poison that eats away at the heart.
I stare into the paper cup of Italy’s crappiest coffee from the vending machine while I wait down the corridor forRosetta. My unhealthy obsession with her took over my life years ago. When her husband was incarcerated, she disappeared. I assumed she’d gone back to Italy. And only then was I able to move on, unable to keep tabs on her from a distance. Now it seems all this time she’s been hiding in plain sight. If only I flew more regularly, our paths might have crossed before now.
Rose steps out of the room with her mother in a wheelchair, an oxygen tank attached to the back. Her mother pulls the mask down from her face. “It’s this way.” Her thin arm lifts slightly, pointing in my direction.
Fuck. I slip into a waiting room as Rose pushes the chair down the corridor. My heart races and I look up to the spotlights in the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’m doing here.
She’s just visiting her sick mother, getting on with her life as though our encounter today meant nothing to her. Just like when she married less than a month after I left Italy, despite promising she’d wait for me, she went and fucking married someone else as though I’d never existed.
I crush the cup in my fist like it’s the last shred of patience I have left. I toss it in the bin without looking as I follow the track marks on the linoleum floor until I get to the exit that leads out to the hospital grounds.
Lush, green Italian stone pine trees line the path, giving me some shade from the midday sun. Gravel crunches under my leather shoes and I step sideways onto the grass, inhaling the scent of pine nuts, a welcome aroma from the disinfectant air inside.
Out here, you wouldn’t know you were at a hospital, more like a garden or park. Memories of our time in the Villa Borghese creep in. The birds chirping, the sun peeking through the trees, the breeze on my face—it’s like I’m there again, watching her, only this time my intentions are different.
I feel in my trouser pocket for another piece of gum, theonly thing keeping me calm and stopping me from going over there and demanding answers.
I stay behind a tree as they settle on a nearby bench. I lean against the bark while I listen in to their conversation carrying on the summer breeze.
There’s nothing out of the ordinary, just the regular conversation about the weather, her mother’s health, and her job as a flight attendant.
“I have to go soon, Mamma. I have a flight back to England in a few hours.”
Her mother coughs, then says, “Will I see you again?”
“Oh, Mamma.” A sob escapes Rose’s lips, and I know she’s crying. “I’ll try to get a layover so I can spend more time with you.”
