by Sophia Reed
“I did.”
“Then why the glum expression? You look like someone melted your Glock and transformed the metal into a knife to stab you with.”
Ah, Sandro. Such a delightfully debauched sense of humor.
“I’m not wearing a glum expression.” Denial didn’t have to just be a river in Egypt.
“Bro,” Gabriel chimed in next, reminding me more of a mother hen than our half-brother. “You hurting again?”
“No. Christ, can’t a man eat in peace around here?”
“But you’re not eating,” Alessandro pointed out.
“Maybe I’m not hungry.”
“You?” Sandro went on, his tone so full of sarcasm I wondered if he was channeling Dr. Perry Cox from Scrubs. “You’ve always eaten more than the three of us. Often combined.”
Yes, but that had been back when I’d been building muscle and lifting weights every day. Which had been nearly a year ago now.
“Something’s not okay with you,” Gabriel continued. “You seem… depressed.”
“He needs a woman,” Alessandro concluded, rolling his last bite of pasta around his fork and tossing it into his mouth.
“I don’t need a woman,” I objected vehemently. My voice must’ve carried further than I realized because everyone paused to gape openly at me. Even Anna’s big blue eyes turned in my direction.
Having had enough of family bonding time, I stood, threw my napkin on my still full plate, and marched out of the room.
An hour later, I’d worked up a nice sweat on the treadmill in the gym. It might not be the exercise I most preferred, but maybe it’d wear me out. I needed to be worn out. I needed to get out of my own damn head.
I felt stressed and all my usual methods of relieving that stress had either become unavailable or no longer appealed to me. I’d been warned that hefting barbells over my head liked it used to would be unwise until my back and shoulders had fully healed, so that was out. In fact, my surgeons had forbidden any type of upper body workouts for now.
Finding some random chick and pounding out my problems doing some bare-assed bedroom gymnastics would’ve been another alternative. But pursuing a flavor of the night would probably mean explaining either why I wasn’t removing my shirt or all about the fire, and I didn’t want to go there. In fact, I was really and truly sick of going there.
It had pretty much taken over my life for months and months.
And even if hooking up with some random woman might not have had so many uncomfortable strings attached, I’d begun to come to a dreadful conclusion. I didn’t want that. Not anymore. What I wanted was Kelly.
Which would be an immensely bad idea in more ways than one.
I increased the incline on the machine to the steepest grade possible and kept running. Sweat poured off me and my breathing had become straight up huffing and puffing, but I didn’t stop. I pushed the muscles of my legs so hard that they were screaming, and only when I couldn’t take a second more did I slow down, fearful my lungs would collapse.
“There are faster and less exhausting ways to kill yourself, you know,” came a voice, and I pivoted around to spot Luca entering through the doorway.
Glancing at my watch so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact, I took a moment to regain my breath. It was late, yet my brother wasn’t with his wife. “Trouble in paradise?”
In the past such a jibe might’ve goaded Luca into some sort of comeback, either verbal or physical, but this time, he simply smiled. “Thankfully, no, knock on wood. They’re all asleep, and I wanted to check on you.”
I scowled at him, so almightily frustrated by his ridiculous solicitousness. His and everyone else’s. “I really wish everybody would start minding their own goddamn business.” Again, he gave me nothing, no biting words, no push, no resistance. And that felt far worse than if he had. “Can’t you leave me alone? Don’t you already have everything you ever wished for?”
His smile vanished, but he didn’t look angry. Instead his next words caught me totally off guard. “You’re doing well with that restaurant venture of yours. It’s been a gigantic help overall.” He was complimenting me? What the hell? “And I do have a lot of what I’ve wished for, thanks to you.” I stared at him, speechless. “You saved my life, Marco, and I appreciate it more than I can say.”
I shook my head dismissively. Of course, I saved him. It was my duty to do so.
“You almost died doing it,” Luca went on, his tone deadly serious. “And you’ve suffered horribly because of it. I’m sorry for that. Very sorry.” His words had grown softer and softer as he spoke, so that by the end, they were almost inaudible. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get my chance to repay the debt, but if you ever need anything of me, anything, it’s yours.”
I could tell he meant it. Every word. But Varassos didn’t do this sort of thing, this sort of heart-to-heart lay-everything-on-the-line conversation. We didn’t get touchy feely. We didn’t get all mushy and hug it out. Generally, we screamed one another stupid and often upped the ante by then kicking each other’s asses.
So this was a new one on me.
“Are you dying or something?” I asked him, and his serious expression gave way to amusement.
“No,” he chuckled out.
“Am I?”
“You’re having a hard time but don’t want to discuss what’s wrong. I get it. I’ve been there.”
If anyone had been there, it was definitely Luca. I couldn’t begrudge him that. A thought skittered across my mind and out of my mouth without conscious thought. “Do you still believe in the curse?”
He positioned himself on the stationary bike beside me but didn’t start peddling. He took a deep breath as if contemplating his answer, his hand sliding down to scratch his left shin, a place I knew to be scarred from both his broken leg and from the same flames that had scarred me.
“Before Alana died I didn’t. Then, I felt like I had no choice not to. But Molly has a completely different perspective on it, doesn’t believe in it at all.” Luca pooched out his lips and rubbed the dark scruff of his beard. “I keep going back and forth, so I guess the jury’s still out for me. I don’t want to believe in it.”
“I think it’s bullshit, personally,” I told him.
“Even with all the evidence to the contrary?” Luca wasn’t being argumentative, he seemed to be poking at the concept as if searching it for holes. For weaknesses.
“I don’t think it’s evidence. Suffering is a part of life for everyone. It’s not like our family has cornered the market on it.”
He smirked. “You’re pretty wise for someone so young.”
“Young?” I scoffed. “I’m only two years younger than you.”
His smile widened before his expression became more somber, less playful and taunting. “Life isn’t only about suffering, you know. It can feel that way, but it’s not.” He stood, his hand coming up as if to clap my shoulder, then remembering, he dropped it, nudging my side with his elbow instead. “Whatever’s going on with you, I hope you remember that.”
And with that, he left me in the gym, his limp barely noticeable.
11
Kelly
October faded into November, November into December, and before I knew it, a new year had dawned. My parents had their usual holiday get-togethers where all their far-flung relatives and friends showed up.
The nice thing was that it made my mom and dad fight less. The not so nice thing was that I had to sleep on a pallet in our living room to accommodate all the modified sleeping arrangements. As a kid, I hadn’t minded this much, but waking up with a sore back and a crick in my neck every morning as an adult wasn’t my idea of a Merry Christmas tradition.
After our last kiss, Marco began to change his work habits. He’d still come in daily, but he occupied himself in the main office instead, only coming into the cash office with me occasionally. He made himself available to me for questions and remained polite anytime we interacted, but that closeness we’d deve
loped before was gone.
He’d been so encouraging with me prior to this, so supportive. I remembered a night when we’d been short-handed and we’d both pitched in. Even though he was in this tailored Armani suit, he’d taken the time to bus tables, help me bring out food, and even push a broom around. I never would’ve thought him humble enough to do such things, but he had been.
And afterwards, once we’d closed up shop, he’d turned to me with an amazed smile on his face. “I have a whole new respect for restaurant workers everywhere. Everyone gets a raise. Well, except for those who called in tonight.”
I laughed. “For someone who I’m guessing has lived a pretty pampered existence, you did really well.”
He features became sardonic. “You think I’ve been pampered?”
Realizing my faux pas far too late, I attempted to back-peddle. “Well…”
“No, I think I get it. Fancy clothes. Hundred-dollar haircut. I probably do look pampered.”
His admission emboldened me. “You weren’t?”
His eyes, which had been glittering in amusement, went grim. “No.” Then he proceeded to tell me about how his mom had died when he was thirteen, how his dad had been extremely demanding, and how he now had to live up to his legacy as a Varasso.
I could tell that he’d loved his mother but didn’t care for his father much. I wanted so badly to ask about what being a Varasso was like, to figure out if there was any truth at all to my brother’s belief in his criminal lifestyle, but I didn’t. I did, however, ask about what he did before buying Organic Eats.
“My family runs a business. A large and diversified business. I’ve helped out in various respects over the years, but I’ve never been responsible for running a business all by my lonesome.”
“Until now,” I assumed.
He nodded. “Until now.” His face had shown his resolution, his determination to prove himself.
When the topic switched to my family, he seemed to give extra attention to everything I said about my brother. “David’s a great guy. He’s always watched out for me. My parents have always had so many problems that a lot of the time, I think they considered my brother and I as afterthoughts. Not that they’re bad parents, per se, it’s just… They’re caught up in their own woes.”
“And you’re helping them with those woes,” he concluded, and I looked at him, surprised. He pulled his lips to the side. “It seemed fairly obvious, Kelly. Where you live. How generous you are. But I believe they may have their roles reversed. Generally speaking, it’s the parent’s job to take care of the children, not the other way around.”
I knew he was right. “This is the way I grew up,” I told him, shrugging.
“So you and brother wound up leaning on one another?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you have a good relationship with him. Family can be…” he paused. “Complicated. But having them in your corner is important.”
“I agree.”
But we hadn’t talked like that in months now. I missed it. Laura and Chloe suggested that I reconnect to him somehow, but I didn’t see the point. He’d gone out of his way to separate himself from me, and deep down, I knew this was for the best.
Even if sometimes I laid awake at night thinking about him. Wondering about him. Missing the easygoing relationship we’d once had.
Weather permitting, David and I continued to meet up for lunch in the park as often as we could. He’d begun to spend time with another rookie officer on the force, a woman named Twila Hanover, and before I knew it, they’d become a couple.
Even though this was the first time in years my brother had attempted to be with someone, they made it look so simple and uncomplicated. He’d brought her to Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas lunch, looking happy as a clam. I tried to revel in their joy but seeing them together made me think of Marco.
For so long I’d purposely not thought of men in that way, thwarting all their attempts at flirting and asking me out. But now, I was forced to admit I wanted that for myself, too. And the only man who’d ever made me want it was unavailable.
I was buried up to my eyeballs counting the heavy amounts of paper money that always poured into the cash office. Lately these amounts had been increasing, and I’d gotten into the habit of working later rather than earlier. That way, I could prepare everything at night when I had more time, instead of rushing around to prepare all the various deposits in the morning.
About a half hour before closing, I heard a familiar voice in the hallway outside. My brother David’s.
“Hey, I’m looking for my sister, Kelly. She’s a server here…”
Crap. Crap, crap, crap.
That evening had been one of those isolated times when nearly all the staff was new instead of old. Chloe was off. Laura had already worked an earlier shift and gone home, so my brother wouldn’t recognize anyone out there.
I wondered if something had gone wrong, if there was some sort of emergency. In all the years I’d worked here, David had seldom come inside. To the point that I could probably count the number of times on one hand. Yet he’d come inside now.
I scrambled to collect all my neat bundles of cash and thrust them into the safe so I could open the door and greet him. I’d refrained from telling him about my promotion, preferring to discreetly take care of my family’s finances bit by bit.
Once I received my raise, I’d talked my parents into letting me take over the chore of paying bills, which gave me access to their meager accounts. Since they hated dealing with it all, and both admitted—separately—that they weren’t good at keeping up with their checkbooks anyway, they’d agreed, which made my life much easier.
Due to this arrangement, stress in the apartment had been reduced to the lowest in my memory and the amount of arguing between my mom and dad had decreased significantly. Our home felt almost peaceful now, and I wanted to keep it that way.
“You’re looking for Kelly?” came another male voice. Crappity crap. It was Marco’s. I increased my pace, literally throwing thousands of dollars around in my haste.
“Yeah, the folks said she was working. Figured she must be in the bathroom or… Wait… Don’t I know you?” my brother asked just as I opened the door.
“David,” I called out, feeling like my heart would jump out of my chest. Him and Marco having a face-to-face conversation might be the worst idea ever. “Is everything okay?” Only after I’d spoken the words did I see Twila at his side, both of them in their PPD uniforms.
For a second I froze, eyeing the group in front of me. David stood there focused on Marco, his face squished into the same kind of puzzled frown he might wear when trying to solve some heinous crime. Twila appeared next to him, her expression torn between excitement and hesitancy as she took in how David stared at my boss.
And then there was Marco, all tall, dark, and gorgeous in his tailored suit. He wore a cordial smile on his lips, but his eyes remained cautious.
“Is everything okay?” I repeated, a bit horrified at the situation. I’d really hoped such a meeting would never occur.
“What are you doing back here with him?” David asked, accusation in his tone.
“I’m not a server anymore,” I admitted. “I got a promotion.”
“Well, isn’t that nice?” Twila said sincerely, looking from face to face. The tension around the four of us could’ve been cut with a knife. “Um… David? Do you want to tell her or can I?”
Unlike the substantial height difference between myself and Marco, Twila stood only an inch or two shorter than my brother. Her eyes sparkled like jewels in her face and I wondered what was going on.
“Someone should tell me whatever it is,” I said, nervousness slicing my patience to shreds.
“We’re engaged!” Twila said, as a broad smile brightened her features. She stuck out her left hand, showing me a modest but glittering diamond ring.
“That’s…” Stunned, I tried to come up with the correct thing to say. “That’s fa
ntastic. Congratulations.” I embraced her, then David, who hugged me back, though his posture remained stiffer than normal as he continued to squint over at Marco.
“I’d say this calls for a celebration,” Marco remarked graciously, all sophisticated cultivation. Any caution or trepidation he’d been exhibiting had vanished, almost as if he’d wiped his expression clean. His chiseled face had become a blank slate. He disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with a bottle of champagne.
“We’re not drinking with you,” my brother said as if insulted, his voice flat. Then, seeming to realize how rude that must come across, he gestured at their uniforms. “We can’t. We’re about to go on duty. Night shift.”
“Another time, perhaps.”
“Yeah. Perhaps.” David’s Philadelphia accent, one that typically became more pronounced when angry or aggravated, was thick as lava.
Twila, maybe feeling the need to smooth over a tension she probably didn’t understand, offered Marco her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so over the moon I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Twila Hanover. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Marco Varasso,” he took her proffered hand, only to kiss the back of it rather than giving her a handshake. “And the pleasure’s all mine.” Even though my boss wasn’t downright flirting with Twila, he’d definitely ramped up the charm. I felt a spasm of jealousy swirl through my gut, which if his hateful scowl was any indication, David felt, too.
“Why are you strutting around here like you own the place?” my brother didn’t attempt to camouflage his sharp tone as he seized his fiancée and pulled her behind him, regarding Marco as if he were a hissing viper. Marco’s charm dissolved into an icy coldness.
“I do own the place.”
“Since when? Where’s Ian?” David demanded, and my nerves, already high-strung, raised to the point that I could barely breathe.
