Affecting nonchalance, I shrug. “Good for him. It was bound to happen eventually.”
“Mina.”
“What?” I cross my arms, and then uncross them when I realize how defensive it looks. “It’s been five years, Rosa. I doubthe even remembers I exist. He was probably just making polite small talk.”
Rosa gives me a look.Thelook. The one that says she knows me too well and exactly how hollow those words sound.
“You know as well as I do that a man who’s capable of what he did doesn’t forget anything. What if he shows up at your place?”
I meet her eyes. “Then I’m prepared.”
A heavy silence settles between us. Rosa’s gaze flickers to where the children are playing, and then back to me. She’s as worried as I am.
“Just…” She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “Be careful, okay? He’s not a boy anymore. He’s Don Cristiano. If he wanted to, he could—”
I seize her arm, alarm flaring through me. “I’m always careful. Do you think I don’t know what’s at stake? What I’ll lose if he ever finds out?” My voice rises, and to cover my panic, I shove my hand through my hair.
“I know you do,” she says softly. “Call me if you need anything. Day or night. I mean it.”
“Thank you.”
Though what Rosa thinks she could do to defend me and Leon against the Montoni don, I have no idea. No one can save us. Not bodyguards, not cops, not anyone.
Which is why Cristiano can never know the truth.
I slip Leon’s dinosaur drawing into his backpack, and help him into his raincoat. Rosa hugs us both at the door, holding on a little too long.
“Say bye to Auntie Rosa,” I prompt my son.
“Bye, Auntie Rosa!” Leon waves cheerfully, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “Bye, Mason! Bye, Carly!”
The door closes behind us as I settle Leon on my hip and take a breath.
Maybe Cristiano was just making small talk with Mom.
Maybe he really has forgotten about me, and we’re safe.
I have to hope.
The bus back to our neighborhood is just as crowded and warm. Leon sits on my lap and presses his nose to the fogged window, drawing wobbly shapes with his finger while he narrates a story about a dinosaur who lives on a bus.
The rain has gotten heavier by the time we reach our stop. I peer through the window at the downpour and sigh.
“Ready to run, baby?”
Leon’s face lights up. “Ready!”
I pull his hood up over his dark curls and hoist him onto my hip. The doors open and we plunge into the rain.
Leon shrieks with laughter as I sprint toward our building, splashing through puddles, rain plastering my hair to my face. He’s giggling so hard, and despite my aching arms, the long day, and the fear that lives in the pit of my stomach, I’m laughing too.
“Faster, Mama!”
“I’m going as fast as I can!”
“Faster!”
I’m fumbling for my keys with one hand while Leon wipes rain from his eyes.
