Except, the time has arrived, with Lena, and I’m shocked to realize how much I love seeing the ring on my finger, its matching pair circling hers. It feels right in a way I can’t begin to explain and don’t want to.
The only thing I want to do is scoop my wife into my arms, hold her safe as she falls asleep, and ward off the screams that regularly pierce her dreams.
Lena doesn’t stop me when I pull away just long enough to move the dinner tray off the bed. I’m back a moment later, sliding her body against mine as we lay back against the pillows. I put on sweatpants and a t-shirt before room service came. Lena traces imaginary images on the fabric, her head propped on my shoulder.
Her finger pauses, her face tipping up to mine. “That firstnight in your office you mentioned something about a brother. Does he live in Chicago?”
“Yes.”
“But he wasn’t at the wedding.”
Because he would’ve forbidden it.It’s an uncomfortable truth, so I lie. “He was out of town otherwise he’d have been there.”
“Oh.” She resumes tracing, her finger spreading warmth through my shirt to my skin. “Tell me about him, about your family.”
“They’re your family, too.”
Lena’s inhale is audible, but she doesn’t say anything. I find her hand on my chest and lace our fingers together. “Ari’s the older brother, by two years. We were both born in Italy and moved to the States when we were little.”
“And your parents?”
“My mom died when I was seven. My dad two years later.”
Lena props herself up on one arm, gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been hard, especially since you were so young.”
A faded image of my parents flits through my memory. A subtle hint of citrus trailing behind. I realize with a pang that I can’t remember the last time I thought about them, the last time I could clearly recall their faces.
“It was hard,” I say, fighting back a sudden wave of sadness. “To outsiders I’m sure they seemed like hard people, even vicious. They were part of The Family, after all, and there’s a certain level of brutality that no one, not even young mothers, can escape. Especially not then when everything was done so old-school. But to me and Ari, my mom was always warm. Strict but warm. My father was around less, but he always had time to play with us when he was home.”
“Like with toys?”
“No, with guns.”
Lena sits up, shocked and I laugh, a deep, long laugh, thekind I haven’t had in years. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” I say, secretly loving the slaps she lands on my chest, addicted to having her hands on me, no matter the reason. “We played sports,” I continue between chuckles. “Soccer, baseball, that sort of thing.”
“How very All-American of you.”
I shrug, still grinning. “What can I say. Even mobsters like to have fun every once in a while.”
“You’re nuts.” Lena collapses back onto my chest. “Totally, completely nuts.”
I catch her hand, plant a kiss on her palm. “And yours.”
Lena’s grunt is non-committal, but I don’t miss how she curls her fingers around the place my mouth just was. “And your mom? What do you remember about her?”
“She was always making food. Feeding boys seems to be a non-stop job, even if I wasn’t aware of it at the time. She was constantly churning out something in the kitchen and yelling at us to stop trekking mud across her floors. And she always smelled of lemons. For years after she died, I would catch a whiff of lemon and look around, expecting to see her out of the corner of my eye.”
“And now?”
And now she’s been gone so long I can barely remember her face. Haven’t dared look for her in years.“Uncle Aldo is our family now,” I say, deflecting. “He and his brother, Marco, took Ari and me in after our father died. We went from being the kids of one of his trusted soldiers to the adopted nephews of the Cerreticapo. Ari and I aren’t related to Aldo by blood, but no one dared questioned when he made us his. From that point on if I was looking over my shoulder it was to stop someone from stabbing me or mine in the back, not to look for my dead mom.”
“Wow.” Lena sits up, her legs crossed under her body. “That’s…”
“Too much?”
“I was going to say lonely.”
Lonely. That word is an unexpected knife to the heart, one that vanishes when Lena rests her palm on my chest. She’s watching me and I try to hide how hard her comment hits.