Fragile Longing

“I’m fine, but what about you? Mom told me that you can’t marry Serafina anymore and have to marry Sofia instead.” She and Sofia were the same age, and both had already suffered the cruel side effects of being raised in the mafia. Occasionally, they had played together at gatherings. Now, Emma could only sit on the sidelines while the other kids ran around. All the anger and resentment of the past mixed with the new rage I felt, but I swallowed it.

“I don’t mind. I’ll marry Sofia in six years. That’s a good thing.” It was a lie I’d have to use a lot in the future.

Emma tilted her head as if she wasn’t sure what to believe. Suddenly, harsh coughing flooded down the stairs from the second floor.

Emma winced. “Dad’s been worse these last few days. I’m scared for him.”

I squeezed her shoulder. She had her own future to worry about, and yet fate had cruelly added Father’s deteriorating health to her plate of worries. The coughing continued, and Mom’s voice rang out.

“Let me check on them,” I said. I hurried up the stairs and found my parents in the bathroom of their master suite. Dad perched on the bathtub, bent over, his body shaking as he coughed. Splatters of blood dotted the tiles at his feet and his mouth was covered with it as well. My mother was rubbing his back, her face ashen as she whispered words of reassurance.

They were lies. One look at Dad was enough to tell anyone that the coming Christmas would be his last—if he even made it that far.

I didn’t allow the dreaded sadness to take root in me.

Dad looked up and slowly straightened from his hunched position. His struggle to contain more coughs showed on his pasty skin. He wiped the blood off his lips with the back of his hand, and Mom quickly handed him a washcloth. While he cleaned his face, she came over to me and kissed my cheek. Her eyes swam with fear. “I don’t know what we did to deserve this,” she whispered.

I did. Maybe Mom preferred to pretend my father and I were normal businessmen, but we all knew that wasn’t true. Dad staggered to his feet and gave me a weak smile. “The deal with Pietro stands?”

I’d reported back to him right after my meeting with Samuel, Pietro, and Dante. I wasn’t sure if he just wanted me to confirm it again or if his memory was starting to get spotty due to his sickness. “Everything’s settled, but like I said, Emma’s engagement to Samuel stays a secret for the time being.”

“I think it’s a mistake to wait to announce the bond,” Mom said. “Maybe people would stop pitying her if they knew she’s going to marry a future Underboss. And maybe Cincinnati will realize their mistake. May they rot in hell, all of them.” Mother crossed herself as if God would grant her wish to her that way.

“If we announce it now, people will catch on and realize we struck a deal. Emma will be devastated if she finds out Samuel only agreed to marry her if I marry Sofia.”

“You would have married Sofia either way,” Dad said.

It was true. Sofia was a good match for me, at least from a political standpoint.

And yet it felt as if I’d been bested.I closed my bag. I’d packed enough for exactly one night. The Cavallaros’ Christmas party was tomorrow, and I was expected to attend. My parents insisted it would look bad if I stayed away, and they were probably right. If your Capo invited you to a party, you were expected to attend. I wasn’t looking forward to my trip to Chicago. I’d leave tomorrow morning and then return the day after. Perhaps I should have aimed to spend more time with my future family, considering the Mione clan would be there, too, but losing Serafina was still too fresh. So far, I’d avoided social gatherings altogether. I hadn’t even attended Pietro’s fiftieth birthday party.

Pietro’s name flashed on my cellphone. I considered not taking the call. He wouldn’t call me for good news. None of our recent conversations had been remotely pleasant. Maybe Dante had canceled his fucking Christmas party. Of course, Pietro wouldn’t call me for something like that. I didn’t want to attend it anyway, but not attending would suggest I was still hung up on Serafina.

“Pietro, what can I do for you? I’m busy.”

“I won’t take long. I just . . . I have to tell you something.”

From the tone of his voice, I knew I’d hate whatever he had to say.

“What is it?”

“Serafina is pregnant. She’s seventeen weeks along.”

The news hit me like a sledgehammer. Another reminder of how Remo had taken her from me. As if even from afar he’d found another way to humiliate me by showing me again how he’d dishonored my fiancée.