Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
All I can do is rub her back and offer her soft murmurs. I can’t think of anything useful to say to make her feel better about this. My mind won’t stop ticking over about the implications for us, me and Leo. I’m done questioning if the events between us are real. They feel real, more vivid than anything else I’ve ever lived, any affection I could’ve imagined before.
“It doesn’t have to change things between you and your dad,” I murmur.
She leans away again and roughly paws at her cheeks. She stares out the window for a long time, the city drifting by. “He lied to me for years. All this time, I thought he felt the same about Mom, all the moments we shared. Just now, we were talking about the poem. He would’ve let me write it, helped me, and pretended to feel the same way I did about it.”
“He probably did it for you to cherish her memory together.”
Rosa frowns. For a terrifying second, I think she’s guessed about her dad and me. I’ve got no reason to believe this, but there’s resentment in her eyes.
“He still lied.”
She folds her arms, stubbornly facing the window, leaving me to turn this over in my mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Leo
“Why did you have to tell her?” I slam my hand on the table. “Goddammit, Dario. Why?”
He sits on the dining chair, his head drooped, and his hands clasped around the empty whiskey glass. He looks so similar to the day he told me about the affair, quietly broken. He explained that he and my wife were in love, and he was sorry. We came to an arrangement. They could be together, but we’d never let Rosa see or let her know. Angelica and I hadn’t touched each other for a year when he told me, completely unrelated to him.
Before Emma, I wasn’t sure I was capable of real love, owning a woman entirely, and knowing she was mine. Now I do, and it will shatter Rosa again. She’s already been broken tonight. Dario did that. Is that fair? Wasn’t it me too?
“I had to,” Dario says, slurring the had.
I snatch the glass from his hand and slam it on the table. “You didn’t have to tell her anything. We’ve gone years.”
“Every time we talk about her, about Angelica, it’s like reliving it, Leo. Every moment we had to pretend. Every lie we told. I know Rosa would’ve been shocked, but she would’ve understood, I think.”
I laugh grimly, not meaning to mock him, but he’s too drunk to make sense. Dropping into the chair beside him, I shake my head. “You’re the one who told me she won’t understand about me and Emma. What makes you think you and Angelica would’ve been any different?”
He flinches, then looks at his whiskey glass. He raises his hand.
“You’ve had enough.”
He grunts. “Says who?”
“You’ve had enough, Dario.”
“That’s me, right, the in-the-way little brother? The piece of shit nobody ever cares about?”
“This isn’t you. You’re drunk. You’ll be embarrassed about speaking like this tomorrow.”
He groans, then grins shakily. “Do you think Angelica would be proud?”
“I don’t think you should think about how she’d feel,” I growl. “Think about how Rosa feels now.”
“I couldn’t live a lie any longer.”
“You’ve broken her heart.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, glaring at me. I know that look from countless business meetings. It’s the look he aimed at Aldo, the exiled guard, back when this all started.
“Careful, big brother.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I mean it. Be careful.”
I sigh through my teeth. This evening is confusing as hell. One part of me is warm, hungry, fuzzy, and obsessed over what Emma and I shared. The other part is shattered.
What have I done?
“I was trying to do the best for her. I was trying to give her a memory worth holding onto. Remember, we were going to tell her when she was old enough, but what was the point after Angelica died?”
“The truth. Some people think that’s reason enough.”
“You got drunk and emotional, so you told her. Don’t pretend this was some strategic move. If you wanted to tell her, if you thought it through, you would’ve come to me. We would’ve come up with a plan.”
“A plan like what? Fucking her best friend?”
I bare my teeth. You be careful, little brother, but I don’t say that. I’ve got to remind myself he’s drunk.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Dario snaps. “And where’s the goddamn whiskey?”
He pushes his chair back, marches to the corner of the room, and picks up the bottle.
“Put it down,” I tell him.
He arches his eyebrow, swaggering over to the table, reaching for his glass. I move it away.
“Reach for it again, and I’ll break your arm.”
He scowls, slams the bottle, and slumps back into his seat. “You could try.”
“Normally, it would be a fairly close fight.”