And that’s how long it’s been before Niccolaio calls a meeting with Asher, Lucy and Bastian, Vincent’s nephew. The five of us meet at Asher’s penthouse, a lavish ten bedroom apartment close to Wilton, which is convenient for Lucy, since she’s still in school.
The news of Vincent’s disappearance came before Asher and Lucy left for their honeymoon, so when Niccolaio and I enter the penthouse, we find packed suitcases abandoned in the foyer. Niccolaio grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen, where Lucy, Asher and Bastian are sitting on bar stools at the kitchen island.
When Asher sees us, he immediately springs up, saying, “What is it? Why did you call this meeting? Did you find him?”
Niccolaio runs a hand through his hair, which he’s been doing a lot lately, the stress of what’s happening getting to him. “No, but we need to talk. Dex tracked down that lead we’ve been following.” He’s referring to a burner number that Vincent has called almost twice daily for the past few months. “And… God, Vince didn’t what me to tell you guys this, but given the situation, I think I should.”
Asher grits his teeth. “Spit it the fuck out already.”
“Vincent has cancer. Late stage. The number belongs to his oncologist. God, Asher, he might even be dead already. I don’t know how bad it is, but don’t you see how he’s been looking lately?”
When I found at that Vincent Romano has cancer, it didn’t hit me like it does everyone else. I didn’t know him like these people do, and even I knew through the grapevine the type of person he is. And for that, I mourned the impending loss.
I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment uninvited, as I watch Asher, Lucy and Bastian react to the news. Bastian’s face flits back and forth between sorrow and rage. Asher has a blank mask on, but his shoulders are tense and fists are clenched. Lucy is the strongest of them all, holding her head high, unashamed as fat tears drop down her wet cheeks.
I wait for someone to say something, but a ringing fills the air.
Niccolaio pulls his phone out, his eyes widening when he looks at the screen. “Holy shit, guys.” He shows us the name on the screen. “It’s Vincent.”
We all spring into action, crowding around Niccolaio as he accepts the video call. But when a face comes onto the screen that isn’t Vincent’s, I take in a sharp intake of breath. Black hair. Chocolate brown eyes. The same strong jaw. I’ve never seen him before, but I know who he is.
And when he opens his mouth and says, “Hello, brother,” my suspicions are confirmed.
This is Ranieri Andretti.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
To be wronged is nothing,
unless you continue to remember it.
Confucius
Ranie’s face fills the screen¸ and I don’t think I’ve ever hated it more.
“Why the fuck do you have Vincent Romano’s phone, Ranie?” I snarl.
A scowl crosses his face. “It’s Ranieri to you.”
“Just answer the fucking question.”
“You owe me a blood debt, and imagine my surprise when Vincent fucking Romano just offers himself as a sacrifice.”
Oh, God.
Tell me you didn’t, Vince.
“No. I don’t accept his sacrifice,” I protest.
Ranie smirks, and I wonder when he became this person, so eager for blood and death. Did I do this to him? Is it because of that goddamn night?
“Well, it’s not really your decision. Is it, Niccolaio? And I most definitely do.” He leans the phone against something and backs up, so we have a view of the room. Of Vince. “Any last words, Romano?”
Vince is sitting at the dining table. I recognize it immediately. There’s a half-eaten steak dinner in front of him, and aside from the healing bruise my fists caused, it looks like he’s been treated well.
At least there are small mercies.
Vince looks at the screen. “Is Asher there?”
I pass the phone to Asher, who answers with a guttural, “Vince.”
The four of us clear the room to give Asher privacy, Lucy still crying silent tears for Vince—and probably for Asher’s loss, too. Minka takes my hand and leads me onto the balcony.
She turns to face me. “This isn’t your fault.”
But that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
“It’s my blood debt. It’s my fault.”
“And Vincent chose to sacrifice himself for it. It was his decision. His choice. No one’s fault but his.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue with her today. “I don’t know how I’ll ever live with myself if he dies, Minka.”
She looks at me with a stubborn expression on her beautiful face. “We’re going to be happy, Niccolaio Cristiano Andretti. I think I deserve it, and I definitely know you do.”
And for a wonderful moment, I believe her. I thought I needed the Andrettis—that they were my identity, my essence—but I was wrong… I need Minka.
It occurs to me that the motivation for my words and my actions are her. Since she came into my life, intruding on me like a bad case of lice, my world has been consumed by her. If I wash her off, she always comes back. If I brush her off of me, she flies back to me. And just when I finally think I’ve rid myself of her, I find she’s still here, hidden beneath my skin.
She’s looking at me like she doesn’t want to fix me. Like she loves me just the way I am. Like she knows I’m a fucked up mess, but I’m her fucked up mess, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
And I hate to admit it, but I want her to stop hiding behind her anger. I want her to stop making these poor decisions. I want her to live her life for her. And I want to be the one to help her do all of that.
It’s the worst time to come to this realization, but maybe in the wake of Vince’s selfless sacrifice, this is exactly the right time for me to realize this.
Damn it, I love Minka Reynolds.
When the phone is finally handed back to me, I expect to find rage from Asher and Bastian. Maybe even from Lucy. What I don’t expect to find is sympathy. Friendship. Family. And though I have no clue what Vince told them, I know he’s behind it.
Has he always looked out for me? How hadn’t I realized this?
I wish I wasn’t so angry back then. That I could see past the fury and forgive all of the wrongs of my past. That I could move on. Maybe then would I have enjoyed Vince and Asher’s company and appreciate that I found a family here.
And I did.
That’s exactly what the Romanos are to me.
I make a mental vow to never take Minka for granted.
On the screen, Vince is still sitting at the dining table. Ranie sits on his right, and Luigi sits on his left, reminding me that Ranie still has not fulfilled the King’s Will.
“Niccolaio, my boy,” Vince greets. “You’re blaming yourself, aren’t you?”
“Who else is there to blame?”
“No one but fate, son.”
I bark out a laugh despite the situation. “That’s a load of crap if I’ve ever heard one.”
Vince smiles with me. “Perhaps, but it made me sound wise, didn’t it?”
I agree. “You’re the wisest person I know.” I sigh. “How did I never notice this? I had this family here, and I never even realized it. I never even appreciated it while I could.”
“But you still can appreciate it. Asher, Lucy, Bastian—they’ll be there when I’m gone. You were sifting through your own struggles. You would have figured it out eventually, once you healed.”
“I just… You still had me scanned for bugs!”
“Because you wanted it. You wanted that distance.”
Shame fills me. “And I regret that now.”
“Well, don’t. Don’t you ever look back on me and feel regret. That’s not what I want my memory to be associated with. You hear me?”
“But you’re dying because of me.”
“We all die eventually, Niccolaio. I was going to die anyway.
”
He’s right. He said so himself last time I saw him… but I didn’t think he’d go like this. Because of me.
“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me.”
“But that’s the beauty of living with forgiveness in your heart. Of absolving your life of the anger and living with compassion. I want to do this, son. I’m happy to. If my last act on Earth can be for someone I love, then I’ve lived a privileged life.” I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off, “When you made that choice all those years ago to save your brother over your uncle, did you regret it? Have you regretted it ever since?”
I open my mouth to say that I haven’t, but I don’t get the chance.
“Enough,” Ranie says, cutting us off. His eyes focus on me, but they look uncertain before he steels himself and says, “You’re blood debt has been paid.”
Then, before I can even process his words, he lifts his gun and shoots Vincent right in his too big heart.
And with that, Vincent Romano, the greatest man I’ve ever known, is dead.
I always thought that the moment I stopped being on the run would be a happy one, but it isn’t. Instead, I’m forcing the tears not to fall down my face. And I’m not the only one affected. The others heard the gun shot, too—Asher flinching, Bastian punching his fist through a wall, and Lucy squeezing Asher’s hand with a death grip. But no one, not one of them, says a word to blame me.
Even in his death, Vince is here.
Minka walks over to me. “He died a dignified death,” she says. “One he found fulfilling.”
And right now, that, and the fact that I no longer have to worry about the hit endangering Minka’s life, are the only salvageable things about this moment.
I turn to Ranie on the screen, who even looks somber at the moment, which only reinforces my belief that Vincent Romano was an amazing man. One who left an impact on everyone he touched.
“Will you return his body to us?” I ask, begging him with my eyes to do so.
Ranie looks tired, of our fighting and perhaps fighting in general. He nods. “You’ll have it by the end of the night. My men will fly it in. I—” he hesitates. “What did he mean about choosing between my life and Uncle Luca’s?”
I finally, unencumbered by the anger and betrayal between us, get the opportunity to tell my brother what happened all those years ago, but it’s too late to make a real difference. “That night, I was given the option to save you or Uncle Luca. I couldn’t save you both… but I could save Uncle Luca from a painful death. So, before Asher could kill him, I shot Uncle Luca. It was quick. He died instantly and didn’t suffer,” I promise.
“All those letters…” his voice trails off. “Did you tell me that in them?”
I nod and let out a bitter laugh. “That and a bunch of fuck yous.”
His fist clenches. “If I had just read one of them…”
“I forgive you,” I say, because I know it’s what Vince would want.
For me to live with forgiveness in my heart.
And I hope Ranie can do the same.
“I’ve cancelled the hit on your head. You won’t have a problem with the Andrettis anymore.” He hesitates. “And if you want, you can come back home, brother.”
“But the King’s Will,” I protest.
Ranie laughs a bitter laugh. “Dad’s King’s Will wasn’t to kill you Niccolaio. It was to forgive you. I just… I was too damn angry to do it.”
And I realize that Luigi is no longer sitting at the table. That, finally, after seven years of extended service, the former consiglieri can now retire in peace. Dad’s King’s Will really was to forgive me.
“All this time… I thought Dad hated me when he died, but he must have read my letter.”
“I’m sorry, Niccolaio. I really am.” His eyes beg of me, “Come home. We’ll fix this.”
“I am home, Ranie.” And I am. With Asher, Bastian, Lucy. With Minka. “I met a girl, Ranie.”
And for the first time in a long time, Ranie smiles in front of me. “Tell me about her.”
And I do. For the rest of the night, I tell Ranie about Minka and how, in an odd, fucked up way, he brought us together. For the rest of the night, Ranie and I learn how to forgive each other. And ourselves.
And through it all, Minka is beside me, her hand in mine and a quick and witty retort always at the tip of her tongue for Ranie.
Chapter Forty
Forgiveness is not about
forgetting. It is about letting
go of another person’s throat.
William Paul Young
July 2013
Dear Dad,
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I go by Nick now. Nick. Just Nick. I’ve dropped the last name, too, and it feels dirty. Like everything I think I am is just a figment of my imagination. Loyal. Strong. Brave. How could I have been so wrong? And is it fucked up that, despite my excommunication, I wish I was still Niccolaio Andretti?
I’ve told you this in previous letters (with a lot more cursing), but in case you didn’t get those or you burned them or whatever, I’ll say it again. I killed Uncle Luca. It tears me up at night. I replay the decision in my head, the chant Ranie or Luca, Ranie or Luca, Ranie or Luca on repeat until those are the only three words I seem to know. And God, I see all those times he cared for me and imparted his words of wisdom whenever I close my eyes at night…
But something’s happened, Dad. I found someone who reminds me of him, and it feels like Uncle Luca is alive. His name is Vincent Romano, and I think he’s a decent guy. If we weren’t in this stupid fucking Romano-Andretti feud to the death, I think you’d like him. Hell, I like him a little, even though a part of me feels like it’s wrong to. That I’m betraying my family just by associating with him.
But the Romano family isn’t bad, Dad. I know you taught me to hate them, and your dad taught you that, too… but they’re good people. They’ve taken me in, given me a job and a home. Don’t let that piss you off too much. I’m not exactly living the good life. I kill people for a living, and I spend 99% of my time pissed the fuck off and hiding out in my home all day long. Not exactly how I used to live.
And fuck, Dad, wouldn’t it be awesome if we could just forgive each other?
Love,
Niccolaio Andretti
True to his word, Ranie ships Vince’s body back to New York. And imagine my surprise when I find that he escorted the body himself.
If you asked me a few months ago, I would have told you that it’d be a cold day in Hell when an Andretti capo famiglia steps foot onto Romano territory willingly (and without being shot down by a trigger happy Romano), but I’m not the same man that ran off to Nowhere, hiding from his little brother.
And everyone around me is different, too. The Romanos are no longer at war with the Andrettis. Vince did that. Even in his death, he has the power to sway people. It’ll take some time for everyone to get used to, but Ranie sent out the decree to end the war, and apparently, the same was Vince’s King’s Will to Bastian, who will take over as the Romano head of enforcement.
Even though Vince wasn’t a capo famiglia and technically can’t invoke a King’s Will, Vince’s brother, the Romano capo famiglia honored the Will, and a decree ending the war on the Romano’s side followed shortly after.
“Are you ready?” Minka asks, facing her back to me.
I zip up her black dress for her and take her hand. “As I’ll ever be.”
I drop Minka off at Lucy’s and join Asher and Bastian in the car that will escort Vince’s body to the cemetery, where thousands of people have gathered to pay their respects. When we get there, I see a sea of somber Romano faces, Andrettis, and De Lucas. Hell, even some of the Camerino and Rossi family members have put down their weapons long enough to give Vince the respect that he earned.
When it’s my turn to speak, my eyes find Minka’s warm ones in the crowd, sitting beside Ranieri, and I begin, “Vincen—”
I pause, and the pain on my face evident. I don’t even try to hide it. I want the world to know that Vince was a good man, the type of man that could make an Andretti mourn the loss of a Romano. “Vince was a good man. When I came to New York, I didn’t understand how it was going to work. All I was taught was to hate the Romano family, and I assumed that was all the Romanos had been taught, too. But it turns out that all it takes is one person, one man that everyone is willing to follow, to change things. Vincent Romano was that man.
“He was tough but fair. Strong but gentle. And even in the darkest of times, he was always a guiding light. How he could live in this world and maintain that rigid moral compass of his, I’ll never know. But he did, and for that, he will forever be an example of how we may hold ourselves, even in a world as dark as ours.
“There will never be another Vincent Romano, but if we all strive to act like him and honor his memory, I know the world will be a better place. And that’s what Vince would have wanted from us.”
Chapter Forty-One
Forgiveness is giving up
the hope that the past could
have been any different.
Oprah Winfrey
When I’m dressed, I find Niccolaio in the office of his brownstone, staring up at a stray fleck of paint on the ceiling.
“What are you looking at?” I ask him.
“Nothing,” he says, a cute and carefree grin on his face. “I just… I used to be so angry.”
I know what that feels like. Sometimes, I wonder—how had I been so angry? And how did that anger leave me? But standing next to Niccolaio, I realize that it was the calm that managed to extinguish the fury in me, and that calm I found in Niccolaio’s arms, by intertwining my soul with his.
Niccolaio Andretti: A Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 2) Page 24
