“Sorry,” Raf grunted. “We weren’t talking about me.”
“We don’t have to talk about me.” Then, with a shake of his head, “There’s nothing to talk about, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Don’t do that. I hate that you didn’t tell me about Willow.”
“It’s not a big deal. It’s casual.”
“You’re dating one of our oldest family friends—that can’t not be a big deal.”
Francesco’s gut twisted. “It’s casual,” he repeated.
“Does Willow know that?”
He thought of Willow, and how she’d been that night. When he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and she’d held onto him like she never wanted to let go. His insides churned with a strange and horrible tangle of feelings. “Yes,” he blurted out, hoping it was true. Hoping that he hadn’t hurt her. Hoping that she didn’t hate him.
He couldn’t bear that.
“We’re really fucked up, aren’t we?” Raf said, his lips twisting in a ghoulish smile. “I mean, I know we’re like him, but I didn’t realisehowlike him until now.”
Ice seemed to trickle down Francesco’s spine.
“I suppose it would be impossible for us to have normal relationships with women, after seeing the way dad was.”
Francesco grunted. He’d thought the same thing a million times but hearing it out of Raf’s mouth made a part of him want to fight it.
“Rocco’s happy,” he pointed out.
“He can be the exception to the rule.”
Francesco moved away, refilling their glasses generously. He felt like getting drunk tonight. He felt like drinking to the point of obliterating his ability to think. To miss her. To do something stupid and promise her things he knew he’d never be able to deliver.
“Can I ask you something?”
Raf made a noise that Francesco took for acceptance.
“How come you stayed with Marcia so long?”
Raf took the drink then went to the sofa, sitting on the edge of it, long legs spread wide. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s say you and I are the same,” Francesco said, cradling his own drink as he took the seat opposite Raf and stared at his brother. “That because of dad or whatever, we’re never going to be able to commit to a woman. That we’re just not interested in that.”
Raf grunted.
“I always thought the best way around that was to keep things light. I’m hardly a monk, but I’ve never made a woman a promise. I’ve never made her think I want more than a few nights.”
“And Willow’s okay with that?”
Francesco’s blood went from ice to arctic sheet frozen. “She knows what I’m like,” was the closest he could come to agreeing, because he had no idea if she was okay with anything that had happened between them. Hell, he had no way of knowing if she was okay, period.
Raf sipped his drink. “Marcia knew what I was like, too.”
Francesco sat back, waiting for Raf to continue, somehow just knowing he wasn’t done. “Right from the beginning, I was honest with her. Marriage was off the table. I told her—fuck,” he shouted, as he dragged a hand through his hair, his features tortured. “I fucking told her I would never get married except for the sake of a kid. After the way dad was, I knew that was non-negotiable. I’d want my kid to have a stable home. Maybe she thought I’d change my mind. I don’t know. But she clearly got tired of waiting.”
Sympathy was a rushing wave inside Francesco. “But why didn’t she try to fall pregnant before this?”
“She probably did,” he muttered. “I always believed her when she said she was on contraception. Even then, I never tookchances. I was careful, too. Except for one night, when we’d been to a friend’s party. I’d been drinking. I barely even remember it, but the next morning, she told me we hadn’t used a condom. That was three weeks before she told me she was pregnant. You know the rest.”
Francesco felt absolute hatred then, for the woman who’d used Raf so shamelessly to get what she wanted. And yet, loving someone who didn’t love you back had to hurt like a bitch. He couldn’t condone what she’d done, but he had no doubt shedidlove Raf, in her own way. And seeing the rest of the family marrying off, one by one, knowing Raf would never give that to her…