CHAPTER 39
TERINA
Present
I tryto think of the good times when I’m here visiting Craig at the cemetery. The months before we were married. Before he took the job on Wall Street. We were so blissfully happy. Dwelling on the struggles during our one and only year of marriage feels like a dishonor. That Craig wasn’t the same man I fell in love with.
The man I agreed to marry was funny and spontaneous and full of life. It was easy to get swept up in a whirlwind romance with him. And who knows, maybe my parents were right about us not knowing one another yet. Maybe the darker side of Craig was closer to reality than I wanted to think. Regardless, he didn’t deserve to be murdered.
Standing at his grave, my eyes trace the letters etched in his tombstone. I wonder what went through his mind when he was faced with threats against my life. He wasn’t a fighter like DiAngelo. I can’t see him confronting dangerous men. He must have felt compelled to give in to their demands.
Did he ever consider going to my family for help? I know they wouldn’t have refused, which is how I know he must not have asked. I think he desperately wanted to make a name for himself and handle matters on his own. But he got in way over his head.
And it never would have happened if our paths hadn’t crossed.
Unlike Craig, DiAngelo leads a dangerous life, with or without me. That doesn’t mean I don’t worry about him or that he can’t still be hurt because of me. Seeing the blood all over him last night was an all-too-real reminder. The sight reminded me of the photos of Craig. So much blood.
I’m terrified something just as awful will happen to DiAngelo.
And despite those fears, I can feel myself falling for him anyway. It’s happening even though I’ve tried to distance myself. Does that mean I’m setting myself up for history to repeat? I’m falling just the same, but he’s not Craig. Not even a little.
I sneak a glance at him over my shoulder, where he’s respectfully stationed himself to give me privacy. He’s so dang sweet but in a totally different way than Craig. DiAngelo is a grizzly, whereas Craig was all panda—funny and playful and totally incapable of surviving in a world of predators. D could savage most any opponent, but when he’s not in fight mode, he’s surprisingly adorable.
How does a girl not develop feelings for a man like that?
He even wore a suit today. I told him he didn’t have to. He did it anyway—a deep charcoal gray with a crisp white shirt beneath. It’s a traditional, classic style with a modern cut that fits his athletic form perfectly. He looks just like the Secret Service with his black sunglasses on. Sweet and strong and delicious in every way.
That’s why I had to lie to him and say I was still in love with Craig. I didn’t know what else to do. And even so, his compassionate response has only made me want him more.
Every time I consider giving in, though, I remember what that means. Revealing all of myself. My struggles and scars, inside and out.
What if I let down the last of my walls only to face his rejection?
I sigh. “I’m so scared of the pain. I don’t want to make more mistakes in my life.” I finally lay the bundle of flowers I’ve been holding on Craig’s grave. “Maybe if I hadn’t bumped into you that day at the park so many years ago, you’d still be alive. I know it’s bad to play the what-if game, but it’s hard not to wonder. What if I’d pushed you harder for an explanation about your stress? What if you’d asked my family for help? What if I’d listened to my parents and delayed the wedding?”
Voices behind me draw me from my one-sided conversation. Kristi is here, and she’s squaring off with DiAngelo. He has his arms out wide, preventing her from coming any closer, and she’s not happy about it.
“Hey, D. It’s okay. That’s Kristi, Craig’s mom. You can let her by,” I assure him despite my dread. I’ve wondered if she stakes out the cemetery this day every year, waiting for me. No matter what time of day I come, I always manage to run into her.
“You keeping me from my son, even in death now?” she snaps quietly once she’s tiptoed close enough in her heels. She’s so dang skinny, I don’t think there’s enough weight to push the pointy heels of her shoes into the ground, but she tiptoes anyway. Her wavy brown hair looks amazing, but it always does. It’s a wig. Her thick eyelashes are fake, as well. And her makeup—so much makeup. She and I have never had much in common, inside or out, except for Craig. Unfortunately, that tie is enough to bind us for life.
“No, I’m so sorry. He’s just making sure I’m safe.” I wish I could gobble the words back into my mouth the second they emerge.
Her head slowly swivels in my direction. “So you’ve found a replacement? It wasn’t enough that you sacrificed my son for your safety? More have to die?” Her voice rises as she speaks, flushing my cheeks bright crimson because I know DiAngelo has probably heard.
Sure enough, when I peer back, all six-foot-five of his suited fury is charging toward us.
“Whatthe fuckdid you just say to her?”
CHAPTER 40
DIANGELO
Present
I knewthe second this woman walked up that she was trouble. First, she’s made up of enough plastic and chemicals that just touching her is probably a cancer risk. That’s revolting enough as it is, especially for a woman in her sixties, but something else about her is off.
The dress she’s wearing has a faint stain at the hem just above her knees, and the paint on two of her fingernails has completely chipped away. The juxtaposition of vanity alongside neglect sends mixed signals that raise questions. Is she simply clumsy, or perhaps she lacks attention to detail? Or is there another, more nefarious issue, such as a drinking problem?
