She tucks a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, eyes downcast. “Guess I’ve never had much reason to mention it. My brother was closer to him and his twin than I was.”
“Twin? DiAngelo has a brother?” I gape at her, wondering if I’ve had my head in the sand or if there’s a reason all this is only coming out now.
“Hada twin,” she corrects me in a somber tone. “He was killed. DiAngelo was never the same after Elio died.”
“What happened?” My question is no more than a hushed whisper.
Isa fidgets in her seat. “He was kidnapped, though it’s hard to recall the details. That whole time period is fuzzy in my memory. It wasn’t long after that when Ario and I were in the car crash.” Her voice wavers at the mention of her brother and his tragic death. “Mostly, I just know what I was told after the fact.”
I don’t push her. How could I when she’s so clearly still bothered by the mere mention of the event? Neither of us tends to talk about our pasts, but I know she ended up in the hospital. That entire year was a traumatic series of losses for her.
Pain scars a person in places the eye can’t see, but like recognizes like.
While my struggles came seasoned with an extra dash of guilt, we were served the same bitter dish. I instantly sensed a kindred spirit in her when we reunited at a Moretti Family event about a year after Craig’s death. Isa and I are generous when it comes to grace and understanding, and in a way, we find solace in one another’s darkness. I’m grateful to have her as my friend.
“I had no idea he’d been through something so awful. Renzo never said anything.”
“The twins were seventeen. Ario was nineteen, but they were close despite the age difference. After I lost Ario, I kept my distance from DiAngelo because seeing him reminded me of my brother.” Isa looks down at her coffee, and I’m reminded of the tragic series of events. An aneurysm took her mother, then came her brother’s accident less than a year later.
Back-to-back losses are extra devastating—a fact I know well since my father died not long after my husband. Sometimes I have to remind myself I’m doing surprisingly well, all things considered.
Not wanting to force those memories upon her, I decide it’s time for a change of subjects. Our meetup has already been heavier than I’d intended, though I’m glad to gain some insight into the man who has barreled his way into my world.
The image of DiAngelo’s smoldering stare as he sniffed my fingers floats in my mind’s eye for the thousandth time since last night. I’d say I was reading into things, but I could see in his eyes that he knew. I could never mistake the smug satisfaction glinting in his eyes.
I have no idea how I’m going to face him.
I tap my knuckles on the table and smile. “Tell me what your plans are for the day.”
Grateful for the shift in focus, she grins back at me. “Well…” Isa starts into a breakdown of her plans, but I only half hear her because a text notification lights up my phone and snags my attention.
It’s from my mother-in-law. Ex mother-in-law? I’m not sure what to call her now.
I shouldn’t read the message for multiple reasons, including not wanting to be rude to my friend, but I can’t help myself. I have to see what it says.
I discreetly swipe the screen to open and take a glance at the message.
Kristi: his tombstone was covered in bird shit, but I don’t suppose you knew that since you never visit
My stomach twists into knots, and I have to set down my coffee.
I knew I shouldn’t have looked, but I feel so bad for her. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child, no matter how grown they are. She’s not always the nicest, but it’s the pain talking. Craig was her only child. The least I can do is not shut her out.
“You okay?” Isa asks gently.
A wave of embarrassment crashes over me. “Yeah, just a stupid spam text. Sorry about that.”
I’m way too embarrassed to tell her about Kristi. I know she’d tell me I shouldn’t tolerate the woman, but my life is more complicated than simple black and white. Our choices have consequences, which we have to live with, no matter how painful. The best we can do is learn from our mistakes and keep from repeating them, which is why I’ve refused to even consider a new relationship—romantic or otherwise. I won’t put another life in danger the way I did with Craig.
Fortunately, Isa skirted my rule. Already a part of my Mafia world, our friendship doesn’t put her in any additional danger than she would be in already.
I suddenly realize my hand is inadvertently scraping my nails across my belly in search of soothing. Not hard, but it’s enough to engulf me in shame. I hate that sometimes my life overwhelms me to the point where I feel out of control. I have no idea how some people shrug off the past. If I could, I’d pack it away into a box and bury it deep inside my subconscious so that it could never find its way out.
Isa doesn’t question my excuse. “I hate that stuff—texts about toll fees and calls for business loans—the scams are constant.”
“No kidding.” I smile, but I'm in desperate need of a moment alone to collect myself. “I’m going to pop into the bathroom real quick.”
I flash a reassuring smile and head to the single-unit restroom. When I open the heavy door, an automatic light flicks on just as a large body collides with mine. Huge arms encircle me, a hand clamping over my mouth. I’m forced forward into the bathroom as the door clicks shut behind me.
