Fragile Longing

“I think I’ll go looking for him,” I said, waiting for Dad to give his okay. He nodded and I stood from the table. I poured a coffee for Samuel and grabbed a pastry before I headed upstairs. It was silent behind his door. I knocked a few times, but there was no sound behind the door. Eventually, worry overcame me. Drunk people could choke on their own vomit. What if something like that had happened to Samuel?

I opened the door an inch and peeked in. The bed was untouched. Samuel definitely hadn’t slept here last night. I turned and moved downstairs to the office where I’d left Samuel last night. When I stepped inside, my stomach tightened.

Samuel lay on the floor, an empty bottle of Scotch beside him. I set the cup and pastry down on the side table, then fell to my knees beside him, worried that he might not be breathing. My eyes registered the rise and fall of his chest. He stank of alcohol. I shook him hard. “Sam? Wake up.”

It took a few moments before his eyes peeled open, and he looked at me. He was squinting as if the light was blinding him.

“What’s going on?” he grunted, sending another wave of alcohol stench to my nose.

I leaned back slightly. “You slept on the floor. You must have been very drunk.”

With a groan, he pushed himself into a sitting position. He cradled the side of his head, his face scrunching up in pain. “Fuck. What—”

Realization crossed his expression, as if he remembered yesterday’s events. He quickly masked his anguish and looked at me. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you,” I said. “And I brought you coffee.” I got up and grabbed the coffee and pastry. “I think it might be cold by now. I didn’t know you were down here.”

Samuel took the cup from me. “Thanks, Sofia. You’re a lifesaver.”

He downed the coffee in two gulps, then let out a sigh and leaned back against the sofa but didn’t bother getting up from the floor.

“Do you want me to get you another coffee?”

He chuckled. “I must look like shit.”

I bit my lip. “You don’t look good.”

“You’re too nice,” he said, then his expression softened. I handed him the pastry and went to get him more coffee.

I wanted to help Samuel. It distracted me from everything that had happened and made me feel useful. When I stepped into the dining room, Mom and Dad were already gone and Adelita was clearing the table.

“Is there more coffee?” I asked.

She looked up in surprise.

“For Samuel,” I clarified.

She smiled, but the pity in her eyes almost undid me. I’d learned from an early age that pity was something undesirable. Pity was gifted but everything worth receiving had to be deserved.

“I can make fresh coffee.”

“Yes, please,” I said. Grabbing a few plates, I followed her into the kitchen.

“You don’t need to help me. That’s my job,” Adelita said as she took the plates from me and put them in the dishwasher.

I watched her prepare the coffee. Our second maid busied herself cleaning a pan, but she slanted me a curious look.

“Is Samuel hungover?” Adelita asked.

My defenses shot up. Our maids practically lived in the house, so it was only natural that they witnessed a lot but revealing Samuel’s vulnerability still felt wrong.

“He’s doing fine. He just wants some fresh coffee.”

I was relieved when I left the kitchen five minutes later with a pot of steaming coffee. Samuel hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor, but at least he’d eaten the pastry.

His expression smoothed when he spotted me, but I’d already seen the darkness.

I poured him some coffee, and he took a gulp, hissing at the scorching heat.

I sank down on the floor beside him, wondering what to say. Samuel had been more closed off since Fina’s kidnapping, and now that she’d run off, it probably wouldn’t change.

For a few minutes, we sat in silence, Samuel cradling his coffee and me lost in my thoughts. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you think we’ll see Fina again?”

Samuel stiffened. “She betrayed us. She drugged me so she could save Falcone.” He fell silent but his harsh expression told me more than his words.

“She did it for the twins. Nobody liked them here in the Outfit.”

Samuel grunted. “She could have sent them to Vegas.”

“Do you really think Fina could have lived without her babies?”

But Samuel wasn’t in a state of mind to listen to reason.

“What happens now?” I asked.

Samuel shrugged. “We’ll move on. Serafina’s gone, and we won’t try to get her back this time. Maybe she’ll come running back to us one day once she realizes what kind of madman Remo Falcone is.”

“Would the Outfit take her back?”

Samuel looked away, and despite his anger and sense of betrayal, his eyes told a clear answer. “She’s a woman,” was what he said instead.