“No,schiavo.I’ll be punishing you all day today with my presence.” The corners of his mouth lift, just a little. “You think that’s funny?”
He nods, then shakes his head, then begins to cry. “I’m sorry.” He motions to his face. “I’m not doing it to manipulate you. It’s probably just the withdrawal.”
“It’s probably a lot more than that. Come with me,” I pull him out his chair and half-carry him over to the couch. I draw him onto my lap and hold him close while he cries. “Get it all out,” I say while stroking his back. “Let it go, sweetheart, and then we’ll talk.”
“You know what I did?”he asks. He’s gripping a mug of hot tea in both hands while I smoke a cigar on the patio. We’re talking as men, sitting side-by-side rather than facing each other. This conversation will be difficult enough as it is.
“Yes, I know. We found the guy who sold you the drugs and asked him some questions.”
He darts a glance at me, and I make sure to keep my expression neutral. No need to compound his shame.
“I didn’t enjoy it,” he says.
Interesting that his mind goes to that first, as if enjoying the touch of another man would make himmoreguilty. “You didn’t enjoy taking a dry dick up the ass in a back alley by a drug dealer who thinks one hole is as good as any other?”
“No,” he says sourly. “How’d you know it was dry?”
“You didn’t take anything with you and meth heads aren’t the best at prep.” His misery multiplies before my very eyes. I’d meant it to be funny, in a dark sort of way, but it’s way too soon for making jokes, and he’s probably berating himself for that too. “I ate bacon and smoked about a carton of cigarettes,” I offer to make him feel better.
“That’s not the same. Are you mad at me?”
“Yes, but not for that specifically. Why didn’t you just talk to me? Am I some kind of monster that you feel like you can’t be honest with me?”
“I’ve been honest with you. I’ve told you a million times in a million different ways. You either want me or you don’t.”
“Of course I want you, Giovanni.”
“You want me to want more, to reach my potential or be somebody else entirely. You’re the one who acts like we have an expiration date. How am I supposed to deal with that? Just sit around and wait for you to decide when our time is up? Wondering if today might be the day you’re done with me?”
Just like themwere the words he’d thrown at me while in his regressed state.
“I meant when I died,tesoro, not that I was going to kick you out.”
“Well, I could fucking die tomorrow.”
“I have a risky profession.”
“So did my grandfather, and he never said shit like that.”
“Watch your tone, young man,” I warn, and while we’re on the subject, “Do you see me as a replacement for your grandfather?”
“I never wanted to fuck my grandfather.”
I throw up my hands. “Madonna santa,Giovanni! My apologies to my Don, may he rest in peace.” I cross myself and stare at Giovanni until he does the same. Lord, how I want to smack that rude, irreverent mouth. I begin again, “I know one of your limits is contemplating the future, and I understand why, but we must have these conversations from time to time, because I don’t want to feel as though I’ve manipulated you into something you don’t want.”
“Haven’t I been asking for this all along?”
I recall what Rupert told me during our most recent lunch. “Yes, and you were right that I wasn’t listening, but Jesus Christ, that stunt you pulled…” He stares at the surface of his tea and says nothing. “It would have killed me, Gio, if something had happened to you. What was your plan anyway?”
“You know the plan.”
I grumble, “You’re better than that.”
He huffs and fidgets in his chair. “Can I be real with you?” he asks with a note of impatience, and I nod for him to proceed. “I don’t want to live without you, and that’s not me being melodramatic or trying to force you into something you don’t want. It’s just how I feel. Wanting to live is hard enough even with your help. Even with Rebekah and the rules and all the nice things, these voices are fucking unrelenting. I fight them for you, because that’s what you told me to do, but if you’re not going to fight for me too, then why am I even here? If you don’t want me, then fucking say so, so we can both move on.”
“I want you.”
“More than just as an obligation to my grandfather.”
