She's crying.
I can tell it, with the way her body's shaking, the way she's clinging to him like he's her plank. Tears burn my eyes at the sight of it, my chest aching.
Leo just holds her.
I don't think he even questions it.
I want to think he's a good guy. I want to believe he'll never get her hurt. But it feels like I'm leaving her in the hands of monsters, like I'm walking away as my friend unknowingly plays with wolves.
"I can't tell her, can I?" My voice shakes as I ask that. "I can't tell her where we're going."
"No," Naz says. "You shouldn't."
I knew that, deep down, but it still hurts to hear it confirmed. I spent my entire life running. Hiding. I know the rules. I've lived the rules. Any threads left intact connected to your past can be followed straight through to your future.
What's the sense in leaving if you just let them all follow?
"Do you think she'll be okay?" I ask quietly as a tear slips down my cheek. I just want her to be happy, to live the life she deserves. "With him... Leo. Will she be okay?"
"I'm sure she'll be fine."
"But maybe I should've told her. Maybe I should've warned her. He's… I mean, his brother… she should know how dangerous that world is."
"It wouldn't make a difference," Naz says.
"How do you know?"
"Because you had all the warnings in the world, Karissa, and it didn't make a difference to you."
Naz pulls the car out of the garage then and drives away. I watch them, as we drive past, then stare at them in the side mirror until they disappear.
Goodbye, my friend.
I won't ever forget you, that's for sure.
* * *
I expect us to get on the road to go pick up my dog, but instead, a little while later, we end up in Hell's Kitchen.
The deli is busy in the middle of the afternoon. I can see a crowd inside, enjoying lunch, as others filter through the door. Business seems better than ever, and something feels different about it all. It feels strange. It takes a moment for it to strike me what's changed.
There's a new sign above the green awning, replacing the generic words 'Italian Delicatessen'.
Vitale's
It's simple, just the letters, nothing except for the name, but it's more than I've seen before. Holy shit.
Naz isn't looking at it, but I don't doubt that he noticed the second we pulled up. The man notices everything. His hands are still clutching the steering wheel, the engine still running. He looks conflicted, like he's locked in a silent debate.
To say goodbye to his father or not...
"You should go in," he says after a moment. "I'm sure he'd like to see you."
I frown. "Why don't you come with me?"
He glances past me, at the deli, his eyes fixing on the new sign. "I have something I need to take care of, the last loose end I need to tie up."
I get it then, why the engine is still running.
He's just dropping me off.
"It shouldn't take me long," he continues. "There's nobody else I'd trust to leave you with. My father… he doesn't take anything from anyone. You'll be fine here while I'm gone."
That's not what worries me.
I'm not worried about my safety.
I know I'm going to be fine.
But I don't know what he has planned, what this loose end is, and knowing Naz?
It can't be good.
"You'll come back?"
His eyes shift to me when I ask that, his expression serious. "You know I will."
I don't want to let him go but I know he wouldn't leave me, not right now, unless he thought it was unavoidable. So wordlessly, I nod and get out of the car, making my way to the door of the deli, pausing there, but I know he won't leave until I go inside.
Hobbling in, I pause, hearing the friendly chatter, listening to the cheerful whistling. I don't know what the tune is, but it's the same one every time.
Giuseppe is wandering around, cleaning off tables, smiling at people, obviously in a good mood this afternoon. He turns my direction, grinning, but his expression quickly falls.
Intuitive.
Like father, like son.
"Karissa," he says. "What's the matter, girl?"
I ponder that question for a moment before shaking my head. "Nothing."
His brow furrows. He doesn't believe it. "Nothing?"
"Absolutely nothing," I say again. "You see, I just found out I'm going to be having a baby, so even if I could complain, I'm not going to."
Those words, they hit him hard, just like I knew they would. They were the last words my mother ever said to him before she disappeared from his world. And he knows that, as he stares at me. He knows exactly what they mean. They run deeper than just on the surface.
They cut him deep.
His expression shifts, from shock to sadness to acceptance, as he puts a smile on his face again, sucking it up, forcing those emotions back. He reaches over, placing his hand on my arm, and nods his head toward a nearby table. "How about some cookies? I made them fresh this morning."
I take a seat, and he disappears to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a plate of Snickerdoodles. He's whistling again as he sets them on the table and slips into the chair across from me.
"What song is that?"
He hesitates for a second, like he's got to think about it. "Johnny Ray. Just Walkin' in the Rain."
"Never heard of it."
"Ah, it was well before your time. Hell, it was almost before mine. My wife… it was her favorite. First song we ever danced to."
I smile at that as I grab a cookie. He spends his days whistling the song he danced with his wife to for the first time. "That's sweet."
"Yeah, just reminds me of simpler times. Better times. When Ignazio was young, she used to sing it to him. I'd come home from a long day here at the deli, and they'd be dancing to it in the kitchen, and she'd be singing her heart out, and he'd be grinning like a fool." He pauses, laughing to himself. "He was a good kid… a happy kid. Wish I knew where we went wrong."