Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1)

“Mad at you.”

I toss my head back on a sigh. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in. There’s a lot of shit going on right now.”

“Your mother wouldn’t like that language.”

I don’t need the reminder about my mother, or Irena, or April, or Dexie for that matter.

“This is why Dexie has a broken heart.” She pushes on my elbow. “You broke that girl’s heart. I saw the pain in her face the other day.”

Digging the palms of my hands into my eye sockets, I shake my head. “We’re not doing this, Marti. I can’t do this.”

She tugs on my forearm. “You love her.”

“With everything I am,” I admit as tears fill my eyes.

“She loves you.”

I wipe my hands over my cheeks. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell, it doesn’t.” Her hand leaps to cover her mouth. “You’ve never loved a woman before.”

I take a deep breath before I blow out a long exhale. “I can’t, Marti.”

“Can’t what?” She squeezes my shoulder. “Tell me what you can’t do.”

“Marry her, watch her have my children, build a life with her and th

en wake up one morning without her.”

Tears stream down her cheeks. “Can you wake up every morning now without her?”

No. I can’t go to sleep without her. I can’t fucking breathe without her.

I turn my head to look at her, wiping a tear from her cheek. “What happens if I lose her one day?”

“You don’t worry about that day.” She holds my hand to her cheek. “You worry about all the days you have with her. Each one of those days is a gift.”

I scrub my hand over the back of my neck.

“Loss is part of life.” Her mouth softens into a smile. “If someone would have told me that your grandfather wouldn’t be here with me now, I still would have married him.”

“You would have?”

“Over and over again.” She squeezes my hand. “I wouldn’t have traded one day with him for a lifetime with another man.”

“I need to go.” I kiss her hand. “I’ll be back when I can.”

“You go to her.” She looks into my eyes. “You tell her that you love her and you never let that girl go.”

Chapter 57

Dexie

My phone chimes again inside my black leather tote.

My Instagram follower count has been ballooning since Gina left my apartment. I watched her post a picture of one of my handbags with a tag to my account. She has millions of followers, which means a lot of potential customers.

I glance out the window of the Uber as we maneuver through the early evening traffic of Manhattan.