Page 42 of The Ruin I Chose

I shook my head. “Briefly.”

“She’s nothing like the women you date,” Alessia said.

“I don’t date,” I snapped.

My mother swatted her arm.

“What? She’s… got substance.”

“She’s beautiful,” my mother added softly. “But there’s pain in her eyes.”

I hated how easily she’d seen it because I’d seen it too.

“So, is it special with her?” Alessia asked.

I exhaled.

“I don’t know,” I said, voice rough, uncertain, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Like the words were fighting their way out.

“Madonna santa… È lei quella che ti ha rotto i muri?” my mother gasped.

(Is she the one who broke your walls?)

My throat tightened. I didn’t want to answer because I already knew. My mother saw it. Alessia saw it. Hell, even Antonio saw it. She’d broken something in me. And I wasn’t sure I wanted it fixed.

My mother reached for my hand again.

“I just want to see you happy,” she said with a soft smile.

“What’s stopping you from knowing more about her?”

“The fact that she’s leaving in two days and…” I trailed off.

“Chiedile di restare, figghiu miu,” she urged, softer than I’d ever heard her.

(Ask her to stay, my son.)

“What else is stopping you?” Alessia coaxed.

I hesitated. Then said it—flat, bitter, distaste thick in my mouth.

“Lorenzo.”

“Bedda Matri!” Alessia gasped.

My mother sighed, her head in her hands. Not angry. Just tired. Tired of watching me carry the weight alone. Tired of watching me build walls so high, even love couldn’t climb them.

Antonio leaned forward, voice low.

“He’s still circling, isn’t he?”

I nodded.

“He met with me in Milan, during the fair. He wants to run his dirty business through Port Nerra,” I spat.

“Quel pezzu di mmerda,” Antonio cursed.