"I miss you too, Gi."
"Come home soon? For a visit?"
"I'll try."
"Promise?"
I close my eyes. "I promise."
We talk for another twenty minutes. About nothing. About everything. She tells me about a boy in her economics class who keeps asking her to study with him. I tell her to focus on her grades. She laughs. I laugh too, and for a moment, just a moment, I forget where I am.
But then she yawns.
"Go to sleep," I tell her. "I'll call you tomorrow."
"Okay." Another yawn. "Love you, Nella."
"Love you too."
The line goes dead.
The silence rushes back.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bruno
The dining room is empty when I wheel in at eight forty-five.
Good.
I need the silence. Need a moment to prepare myself for what's coming.
For most of the days, I've eaten breakfast alone. In my room. On my schedule. No one watching.
But Pietro made himself clear last night.
"If you want to be Don, you need to act like one," he said. "That means showing up. Being present. Leading by example."
He's right. I hate that he's right.
I position myself at the head of the table.
Father's seat.
Riccardo's seat after him.
Pietro's seat now.
But not for much longer.
I run my hands along the armrests of my wheelchair. I've gripped these armrests so many times the finish has started to fade.
Footsteps in the hallway.
I straighten my spine. Lift my chin. Arrange my face into something neutral.
Pietro appears in the doorway.
