“What’s going on, Candace? Talk to me,” I insist.
“You’ve changed.”
“I had to.”
She shakes her head. “We all have to change, but that doesn’t mean going to extra lengths to be cruel. Did you have to go to the strip club on your wedding night? Couldn’t you have just gone for a walk or something?”
“I didn’t do anything there,” I justify, but I know what she means.
“Massimo, seeing those naked women might be so commonplace to you that they look like part of the furniture. They’re there the second you walk in,” she chides. I stifle a groan, recalling the time I had to get her to bring me the keys for a safe.
I had a business meeting I couldn’t leave. She came, saw the place, saw the women, and didn’t speak to me for a week after. She knows that even if I didn’t do shit, I saw enough.
“What do you want me to do? Move the stage?” I smirk. I already dealt with the matter of the strip club.
“Massimo, that’s not funny. Your wife was just as horrified to find out you have a strip club as she was to hear you spent the night there. I couldn’t have been more disgusted.”
“Well, maybe you’ll be less disgusted when you hear I gave the club to Dominic.” I raise my brows. Yesterday, I tossed him the keys and handed him the envelope with the title deed. He’s there more than me anyway.
Candace looks visibly surprised at my answer. “You did what?”
“You heard me.”
She looks proud of me now and taps my shoulder. “Thank you.”
“What for? I’m the one who just lost a quarter of my income.”
“For being the boy again,” she answers. I know what she means. She means me before Ma died. I give her a nod. “Emelia’s sitting on the terrace.”
“I’ll go see her.”
Pulling in a breath, I leave her and make my way outside. When I step through the door, a gust of wind lifts my hair and it smells like rain is near.
Emelia is sitting on the little wall with her knees hugged to her chest. I move to her, and she looks at me. The sun glistens off her wedding band, a reminder that she’s my wife. A reminder of the feelings I have for her that scare me.
I sit next to her, brushing my shoulder against hers, and she offers me a little smile. It’s more for pleasantries. But it says she’s at least willing to talk to me.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hey. Candace said your visit to Jacob’s family didn’t go so well. What happened?”
She gazes out to the sea, looking lost. Her lips tremble and her skin goes pale.
“They didn’t want me there. His mother… she didn’t want me in the house. It was his father who came out and asked me to leave. I got the feeling he wouldn’t have minded me being there, but it was her. I heard her. She was shouting and crying for her son. She said it was my fault he’s dead.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say.
She looks back at me. “I might not have pulled the trigger, but he was doing whatever he was doing because of me. I know I can’t blame myself. I know there was nothing I could do, but I feel so bad. Now his mother is blaming me. She thinks you killed him. I told them you didn’t.”
“You believe me.”
She nods slowly. “You’ve never lied to me.”
“No. I haven’t, and I won’t start now.”
“The funeral is next week. They won’t want me there.”
“You want to go? Can you handle it?” I ask.