Too much of my heart is here in the city. There’s no way I could leave, so I have to figure out how to have a bodyguard without putting him at risk.
“Okay,” I finally respond after the maelstrom of thoughts settles in my mind. “I can manage that.”
Renzo pulls me into a relieved hug. “Thanks for understanding, Rina. None of this is easy, especially in light of the baby coming.” He pulls back and pops a chunk of carrot into his mouth.
“I get it. This stuff happens.”When you’re like us. When you’re part of the Mafia.
A huff draws our attention back to DiAngelo. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” He takes a slow draw from his glass of ice water.
“Believe what?” I jab back. “That I’m not upset?”
“That you’re going to cooperate.”
My hands go to my hips as the insult raises my hackles. “What exactly are you insinuating?”
“I’m just curious if you’re actually going to play along or if you’re simply telling us what we want to hear.”
I open my mouth to snap back at him when Renzo beats me to it.
“D, we talked about this,” he warns in a menacing tone.
DiAngelo shrugs one shoulder. “I’m just trying to do my job. She needs to know that I can’t keep her safe if she doesn’t cooperate.”
My jaw drops. “You have got to be kidding me. Just because I don’t like that no one deigned to include me in this new security protocol doesn’t mean I’m going to be difficult.”
“Of course not. You don’t sound difficult at all. And you certainly don’t have a habit of seeking forgiveness rather than permission.”
“Like you would know. You’re so impossibly?—”
“Rina, that’s enough,” Renzo barks.
I gape at him as though he’s sunk a knife in my back. He’s my brother. He’s supposed to be on my side.
“All I’m saying,” he continues, “is you should take this seriously.”
Deciding she needs to join in the ambush, Mom adds her two cents. “We just want you to be safe. And hopefully, it won’t be for long.”
Sufficiently chastened, I slide my carrot slices into a strainer and mumble, “I didn’t realize you all thought I was so reckless.”
“It’s not that, Ree,” Renzo tries to reassure me. Or is he placating? Now, I’m not so sure. “We know you prefer to run your own ship, and this isn’t a great time for that.”
“Don’t you think I understand that?” I snap back, years of guilt and shame sharpening my words. “Don’t you think I know how easily bad things can happen?”
My unexpected outburst renders the room silent as we all acknowledge the memory of my dead husband. Yes, I’m painfully aware of the dangers in this world. They left me a widow after only a year of marriage.
Craig died a violent, tragic death because of my Mafia family. Did they think that after only five years, I’d somehow forgotten what can happen just because I don’t openly mourn him anymore? That my pursuit of happiness somehow banishes my fears?
I am the way I ambecauseof those constant dangers, not in spite of them. Spontaneity and optimism are the only things that keep me sane because they give me hope and a surprising sense of control in a world where I am effectively powerless.
I live life on my terms. And when I can’t, darkness descends. I hate the dark times and do everything I can to avoid them, so yes, I know what’s at stake.
Four pairs of pitying stares are a thousand tiny needles pricking at my skin.
I can’t do this. I need a breather.
“I need to wash up before we eat.” I rinse my hands and quickly dry them. “And no need to worry. You guys have made your point crystal clear.”
“We’ll let you know when the food’s ready,” Mom calls to my back. “Take your time.”
