by Sam Mariano
“I think it’s because you want what only she can give you—things you didn’t even know you needed. I think Mia is your perfect counterpart. The last person you were this hung up on was Beth.”
“That’s not exactly a glowing recommendation,” he points out.
“I know, and I think that’s why you’re rushing into things with the maid. You’re running from something scarier. You’re trying to sabotage something you consider to be higher-risk, someone who reaches you in a way no one else ever has—not even Beth. You know how much that hurt, so you know Mia could do worse, but she won’t. You know she won’t. Beth didn’t love the way Mia does. Beth would never sacrifice her own happiness for yours—never. Beth was selfish; Mia is the least selfish person I’ve ever met. That makes an enormous difference.”
Shaking his head with mild amusement, he says, “I don’t know why I even let you into this study. All you ever do is cause trouble.”
I can’t help grinning. “I resent that. I give you first-rate information. I’m a perfect mole.”
He watches me for another moment, his wheels turning. I can’t anticipate what he’s thinking, so I just wait to see if he’ll share.
Eventually he completely throws me by saying, “I’m sorry I hired Luca instead of killing him. I should’ve killed him.”
I feel a little dazed, both because Luca Delmonico is the last person on the planet I want to think of ever again, and because I don’t think Mateo has ever apologized to me before.
“I’m going to shut down his operation,” he states. “I don’t trust anyone else to run it and it’s…” He trails off, shrugging. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“You’re going to fire him?” I ask a bit dimly.
“No.” He meets my gaze, then he says, “I’m going to give him to Salvatore.”
“Give him…” I stop, eyes wide, and shake my head. “Sal knows?”
Mateo nods. “He really loves you. You found a good one this time.”
I can’t help smiling. “Yeah, I did.”
“I’m glad. You deserve it.”
Heaving a sigh, I haul myself out of my chair and walk around his desk. He has to know it’s coming, but he still manages to look surprised when I bend down and hug him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I love you,” I add, pulling back and standing.
He’s already made more emotional contact in the last half hour than he’s made in the last decade, so I’m not at all surprised when he smirks and replies, “I know.”
I don’t know if I’ve just made him so uncomfortable that he’s breaking his own habits, or he’s already setting things in motion, but he pulls out his cell phone. Mateo doesn’t typically pull his phone out in company, but now he types out a text while I stand here in front of him.
I don’t glance at his phone—I would never—but I do ask, “Are you doing it now?”
He shakes his head. “No, I need a little time to make that happen. This is Vince.”
My eyes widen. “Vince? You’re texting Vince?”
Flicking an amused glance my way, he says, “He does work for me; I have to talk to him on occasion.”
“Oh. I thought you meant… Never mind.”
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Mateo rises. On instinct, I do, too. I can feel him about to dismiss me. I’ve gotten far more out of him today than I ever expected to, and now he’s done. That’s fine. I know he’ll always be who he is, but I won’t lie; it’s reassuring to get these little glimpses of humanity. My brother is not always easy to love, he’s not always easy to root for, but every once in a while he does something to convince me he’s worth standing by.
Chapter Forty Three
Salvatore
It feels wrong coming to Ma’s Sunday afternoon without Francesca.
Since I met her, I’ve been looking forward to the day I could bring her home with me to meet my family, to be loved by Ma, to joke around with Maddie. Now that I finally can, Ma doesn’t want her here.
Up ‘til now, I told Ma if she didn’t want Francesca here on Sundays, I wouldn’t be here either. We went to the Morelli family dinner instead. I felt terrible not even coming home to visit on my usual Sunday visit so shortly after Dad’s passing, but I have to stand up for Francesca. I have to let Ma know she’s here to stay, that we all need to put the past behind us and start a fresh chapter in our family. Of course she’s going to feel the loss after so many years with him, but she still has so much to look forward to—starting with my wedding.
We haven’t discussed it since the funeral, and that’s why I’m here without Francesca. I don’t want to put Francesca through a whole ordeal, so I’m here for lunch and to talk to Ma, then I’m heading over to the Morelli mansion to talk to Mateo about my wedding present.
That should cheer me right up.
“You’re getting married when?”
Ma is spitting mad. Her eyes are big, her pupils dilated, and she’s turning tomato red.
“I would say your father would roll over in his grave, but his body isn’t even cold yet!”
Nodding, I reach across the table to clasp my hand over hers, but she’s not having it. “I know. It’s sooner than I wanted, but it’s—”
“You’re the one getting married—whaddya mean it’s sooner than you wanted? Is that girl pressuring you? I can’t believe this Salvatore. This is absolutely unacceptable.”
“No, Francesca didn’t want to do it so soon after the funeral, either. It’s a business decision, Ma.”
This just makes her eyes go even wider. “You don’t get married for business!”
“No, not...” I stop, my head lolling back. “I’m marrying Francesca because I love her. But our marriage is also going to serve as a public proclamation that we’re burying the hatchet and making peace with the Morelli family. That can’t wait a full year. We’re just going to have a small, intimate wedding, close friends and family, nothing over the top.”
“Well, I won’t be there.”
My stomach bottoms out. “Ma, come on.”
“No.” She takes the napkin from her lap and balls it up, throwing it on the table and standing.
I stand and follow her out of the room, glancing back at the table. Maddie grimaces sympathetically, but makes no move to come help. I nod my head pointedly and she sighs, pushing the chair back and dragging ass to follow me.
“I don’t like what this girl’s turned you into, Salvatore.”
Maddie finally pulls up beside me, hugging her midsection in anticipation of fighting with Ma on my behalf. This is a bridesmaid duty, right?
“Ma, you’re not going to skip Sal’s wedding,” Maddie says, shaking her head. “That’s absurd. He’s your favorite child.”
I roll my eyes at her. “I’m not her favorite,” I mutter.
“Well, not today,” Maddie mutters back.
“I won’t go,” Ma insists, shaking her head as she grabs a wet cloth from the sink and begins needlessly wiping it down. “It’s not right. Maybe you kids don’t care about the way things are done, but I do, and I won’t be a part of it.”
“You know that’s not true, and the longer you do this, the worse it’s going to be. Don’t you want Francesca to like you? She’s going to be your daughter-in-law,” Maddie points out. “And I’ve met her, she’s great. More importantly, she makes Sal stupid happy and I know that’s what you want for all of us. Maybe the timing is bad, but it’s just a party.”
Ma turns back to glare at Maddie. “A wedding is not just a party, and do you really think it’s appropriate to have a party two months after your father’s funeral?”
“Would you expect them to cancel it if they had already been engaged and planned the wedding? Of course you wouldn’t,” Maddie says, and I nod, appreciating her logic. “They have to speed things up because of whatever-the-fu—er, fudge.” Grimacing, she shakes her head. “Whatever, my brain is exhausted. The point is, you know you’re going to the we
dding, so let’s not do this. Francesca invited both of us to go with her this week to the bridal shop to help her make the final choice on her dress. That’s a great opportunity for you to get to know her.”
“I will not. I don’t want to know those people.”
Of course now that they’re responsible for killing Dad, Ma is anti-Morelli. She didn’t care so much before. Sure, she lazily supported whatever my dad believed, but she didn’t have a pony in the race herself.
I keep trying to play on her love for me, Maddie keeps trying to rationalize, and Ma remains rooted firmly in the soil of her disapproval, like a massive, unmovable oak tree. We spend a solid 15 minutes arguing about it before I give up.
“Fine,” I say, throwing my hands up in the air. “If you want to miss my wedding, I think that sucks, but it’s your decision. If you want to reject my fiancée’s attempts to reach out to you, that’s also your call. I’m not fighting about it anymore. Francesca is the woman I’m going to marry. She’s the woman who will eventually be the mother of the grandbabies you’ve been wanting from me. You’d like her if you gave her a chance, and it hurts me that you won’t, but it’s your decision. If you want to fight Francesca because of something she has no control over, be my guest—but I’m going to marry her, and I’ll be spending my Sundays and holidays and whatever else wherever she is. So if she’s not welcome here, I’m not either.” I step forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks for lunch.”
Her righteous anger wavers. “You’re leaving?”
“Yep. I have a meeting with Francesca’s brother and then we’re having dinner.”
Nodding, her mouth puckering with disapproval, she says, “You tell me you can only come to lunch here so you can go have dinner with—”
“With my fiancée and, by extension, her family. Yes. If you want to see our new house, go to her bridal shower. If you don’t…” I shrug, turning and walking out.
I nearly make it to my car, but Maddie jogs up beside me, flinging herself in front of me and leaning against my car door. She folds her arms across her chest, raises her eyebrows, and cocks her head.
“What?” I ask, tiredly.
“You weren’t going to say goodbye?”
I meet my sister’s gaze, but I don’t bother mustering much energy. “Goodbye.” I miss a beat. “Can I go now?”
Looking as if she hates every syllable she’s about to utter, Maddie sighs and looks down at the gravel driveway, kicking a few rocks with the toe of her shoe. “Ma’s not wrong, you know.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s done. The wedding is happening regardless of when or how or who comes—I don’t care anymore. I just want it to be over. As long as Francesca has a good day, that’s all that matters. I just want her to come home to every night. If I have to spend my Sundays with her crazy fucking family instead of mine to make her happy, that’s what I’ll do.”
Maddie only nods like I’m proving her point. “And that’s exactly what she’s afraid of, Sal.”
“She’s the one making it happen, Maddie. I’m trying. Francesca is trying. If she makes Francesca feel unwelcome here, she’s the reason we won’t be here—not Francesca. I don’t want this. I don’t want them on opposite sides. You think this is fun for me? It’s not. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. She’s putting me in a position where I have to choose sides. All I can do right now is hope it will pass. If you have a better plan, I’m all ears.”
Maddie shrugs, but it looks like she’s holding something back.
“What?” I ask, lacking the patience to drag it out of her.
“You’re being weird about Dad.”
I roll my eyes, taking a step back. “Oh, come on. Not you, too.”
She holds up her hands as if in surrender. “I’m not here to argue or rage against the Morelli family. It’s not my fight. I agreed to be Francesca’s bridesmaid. I’m merely sharing an observation. I thought maybe you’d want to talk about it.”
As my sister, my closest relative, tries to lend an ear to listen to things I can’t share, I come up against yet another wall I’ve had to build around myself. Unlike Ma, I don’t blame Francesca or even Mateo—I don’t blame her family for being fucked up and difficult, because they’ve always been fucked up and difficult. They were that way before I knew them, and they’d continue to be that way if I ever walked away.
The fault is mine, because I won’t. Because I’ve had to make changes in order to assimilate to them, to hold onto Francesca—who was christened in the Morelli fountain of fuckery as an infant, and shows no signs of drying out anytime soon. Ma says she doesn’t like what Francesca’s turned me into, and I realize she’s not completely wrong; it just doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, and whatever I have to do to keep that woman, I will do. Maybe it will irrevocably alter the life I lived before her, but when has anyone ever got entangled with a Morelli and not had their life ruined as a result? Those people are fucking lethal, and every last one of us would sell our last breaths to buy one more hit.
I didn’t know what I was getting into, but I should’ve. And like the most hopelessly ruined, I don’t even regret it.
Shaking my head, I tell Maddie, “There’s nothing to talk about.”
She watches me for a moment, then she sighs and steps away from my car door. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell her. “Keep workin’ on Ma.”
“I mean, I’ll try, but that woman knows how to hold a grudge. She’s been hating on Willow for almost 20 years, and all she did was emerge from her mother’s birth canal.”
Grudge-holding is, unfortunately, a long-standing skill of every Castellanos I’ve ever met. If you grab a toy out of our hands in kindergarten, we’ll remember it at your wedding.
“For what it’s worth, even if I think your wedding could’ve waited a few more months, I really am happy for you. I know how much you wanted a life with Francesca. I’m glad it all worked out for you. Maybe it’s not the classical fairytale ending, but it’s close enough.”
I scoff lightly, shaking my head. “Sure it is. Fairytales are fucked up—you ever actually read one? Dark shit.”
Cracking a smile, she says, “Fine, then I’m glad you got the fairytale.”
I nod wordlessly, offering her a shadow of a smile before I drop into the driver’s seat and start up my car.
I want to tell Maddie fairytales aren’t as simple as good prevailing over evil, the hero getting the girl, and everyone living happily ever after. Everyone can’t live happily ever after. For one person to win, someone else has to lose. In the fairy tale I stepped into, sacrifices had to be made, compromises struck; the good guy did some very bad things, and the bad guy ultimately won. I may have followed the road to happily ever after, but the path is paved with blood and secrets.
In this fairytale, no one who makes it to the end remains a hero.
Sometimes Prince Charming has a hit list. Sometimes the princess has a soul-deep emotional attachment to the dragon who keeps her locked away in the castle, torching every rope bridge that might allow her to escape.
The main thing no one ever tells you about fairytales is sometimes you can’t slay the dragon. Sometimes you just gotta make a deal with him so he’ll let you have your princess.
Chapter Forty Four
Francesca
The summer sun beats down on me as I lounge by the pool. Despite the whole family gathered around, it’s pretty quiet; occasionally Meg makes a racket with the ice as she mixes drinks for everyone at the poolside bar, and Cherie’s feet gently slice through the water as she chills by the pool with Vince. I wonder how much longer Adrian and Mateo will keep Sal in the study.
“All right, who wants a serving of Meg’s pink ladies?”
I let my head fall to the side, opening my eyes to look over at Mia on the lounger to my left. “Why does that sound like something that would definitely be drugged?”
Mia grins. “I think because i
t has her name in it, and Meg seems like someone who would cheerfully drug a person.”
“Vince,” Meg calls out, since no one is approaching her. Then, her tone a little more whiny, she says, “No one will drink my alcoholic beverages. Bring your sexy self over here and help a girl out.”
Shaking his head, Vince pushes up off the ground. He was sitting next to Cherie, dipping his legs in the pool, but now he goes over to save Meg from being ignored.
“That’s because you gave them a godawful name,” Vince states, stopping by the little bar Meg has set herself up behind. I tilt my head back and watch as Vince eyeballs a tall, wavy glass of pink and clear alcoholic beverage. “What’s in this thing?”
Meg grins at him. “Happiness.”
He is unimpressed, but takes one anyway.
Mia has been watching too, but now she settles back to sunbathe again and smiles over at me. “He’s such a sucker.”
“I heard that,” Vince calls back.
“Wait, your cherry!” Meg grabs his wrist to keep him from escaping while she plucks a shiny cherry from the jar and drops it in the top of his drink. “You need garnish. It’s classy and fun.”
“Maybe people would want your drinks if you didn’t brand them pink ladies and call out things like ‘wait, your cherry,’” Vince suggests.
“Where’s Adrian?” Meg asks, looking back over her shoulder. “I can force my drinks on Adrian.”
“Jeeze, you’ve objectified me, forced alcohol on me, and now you’re done with me? You’re cold, Meg.”
“Ice cold,” she verifies. “I can objectify you some more if it makes you feel better.” Leaning across the bar, she runs her fingers down his abs. “Rawr.”
“Okay,” Vince says, pushing her hand away. “I think you’ve been sampling the pink ladies yourself.”
“Unfortunately one of the many downsides to a summer pregnancy is no poolside drinks for me. But that doesn’t mean any of you should share my plight.”
