My hand cups his nape and rubs over his hard, warm shoulders. This is Luca, and I’m in his arms. It feels too amazing to describe.
“Tell me something,” I whisper. Tell me something that will make me feel like I have to go. I shut my eyes. “Tell me how you’re different than you used to be.”
He’s holding me so gently, his hand between my shoulder blades, his forehead touching mine. I see him shut his eyes and watch his lips move as he murmurs, “I am.”
I hug him—because I can’t help myself. “What happened that week? What changed?”
My hands stroke his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. He breathes deeply as he shuts his eyes. “My father was an informant. Your dad tried to warn him. The night we met, at the wedding reception, that was our dads…in the bedroom where we hid. Your dad, telling mine to stop.”
Shock slides through me, cold and heavy. “That was your dad?”
He nods.
“Did you recognize him when you saw him at my house?”
He looks at the couch, sucking his cheeks in like he’s biting them. “Your dad knew. He knew I was into shit. Told me that night if I wanted you…I had to keep my nose clean.”
“What do you mean?”
He presses his back against the couch’s scratchy fabric, and I see his ribcage flare. His jaw is taut, his eyes cast down. “Your dad knew. That was the warning for me.” He covers his face with one hand, rubbing his forehead so that I can’t see his face.
“Why would my father warn you? Were you doing stuff with the mob?”
His fingers rub his forehead harder. “Yes.”
“When I knew you? That makes no sense. You were going to Columbia.”
Now he lowers his hand, blue eyes finding mine. “You never told yourself maybe I lied?”
“I told myself that very thing for years. But I can see you; I’ve been near you, and you’re not that different.” My throat aches. “Is that what happened? Something with the mob? I’ve waited more than ten years to find out what took you away, what made you wreck your own life.”
I expect him to reply in anger: What makes you think I wrecked it?
Instead, his eyes gleam. “I did something. After…my dad.” I see him try to lock his face down, but it slackens with pain as he shuts his eyes.
His arms fall away from my back. He holds his head. “I don’t talk about it much.”
I wrap my arms around him. Now his face is in the hollow of my shoulder; he feels almost limp. I hug him closer. “It’s okay.” Rubbing his back, I feel chills. “You don’t even have to tell me…if it’s too hard.”
I feel his breath on my throat, the way his chest is moving like he’s breathing hard and fast.
“It was so long ago,” I whisper, shocked to find I truly don’t care in this moment.
“I killed someone,” he says, and a shudder ripples through his torso. “I killed my friend’s brother.”16EliseHe lifts his head, looking at me—but I realize he’s not. He’s looking through me. I watch as another little shudder jerks through his shoulders. Then he’s dragging air into his lungs. His eyes are round, his face a blank as he says, “I don’t know what happened. Don’t remember…” His lips tremble. He presses them flat. “Happened in the Columbus Building,” he says in a voice that sounds far away. “That’s why I was drunk that night.”
“Which night?” I murmur when he doesn’t say more.
“In the elevator.”
I frown, searching for a drink in my memory. “I don’t think I knew that.”
He blinks, looking like he’s coming back into the moment as his eyes flit to mine—briefly. “I don’t drink unless I’m there.”
I think about him on the rooftop smoking, seeming so loose-lipped and smirky.
The word “why” falls from my lips before I can stop it.
“I don’t know why I did it. I used this”—he frowns, lifting a hand—“that I found on the yacht. During our prom night.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “I remember sitting in the hall…and they were carrying these bags, and—” His torso lurches like he’s getting sick, but—oh God—he’s just panting, his head pressed against my shoulder as my arm wraps around his back.
“I was gonna kill…myself, I think.” It’s groaned. “But I found Tony. Tony shot my father and I…saw him do it.” He lifts his head, his dazed eyes finding mine. “I did that.” He laughs softly. “So I kind of knew that was the end of us. I know what happens when one of them has a wife.”
“One of who?”
“Lamberto,” he says quietly. “I had heard that, and I didn’t want it to be you.”
“What do you mean? You were already planning to move up the ranks and be like him?”