Ruthless (The Calvettis of New York 2)

Her dad smiles back at her, his hands moving fluidly. He won’t know unless you tell him. Your mom told me she loved me first.

The woman next to him turns her attention to Bella. I love you was the first sign your dad taught me. I think it was a hint about how he felt about me.

Watching her mom’s hands, Bella laughs. Your love story is my favorite.

Until now. Your love story will be one for the ages. Her dad signs before he kisses her forehead.

Since no one has noticed me yet, I take a step to the side to give me more time to adjust to what I’m seeing. A woman to my left looks familiar to me. Her brown hair is cut short. Her eyes are bright blue.

A man calls her Cybil, but I’ve never met a Cybil.

Still, there’s something about her, and many of the faces in here that makes me feel like I know them.

Suddenly, everyone parts and quiets down as an older woman emerges from the kitchen. Max, Bella’s friend, is on her heel.

The woman wipes her hands on a white apron tied around her waist as she heads straight to Bella and her parents.

“Dolly,” she calls out. “I need your help.”

Dolly?

I close my eyes against the memory of the last time I heard that name. It was the last time I heard that woman’s voice.

When I look again, Bella is in the woman’s arms. “I’m coming, grandma. I was just telling mom and dad about him.”

Him? Me.

I’m the asshole who ran like a coward when I was fifteen-years-old. I left Bella’s grandmother in tears on her knees in the middle of a street on the Upper West Side.

A rush of memories hits me. The sound of Martina Calvetti sobbing, the sight of blood, and the small motionless hand holding tightly to the stick of a red heart-shaped lollipop that was shattered into countless pieces on the street.

What my father said to me that day and in the days that followed makes no sense. None of this makes any fucking sense.

My phone starts up again in my pocket, sending glances my way. Bella and her mom turn to look, but not her dad.

Bella’s face lights up like the goddamn Empire State Building when she sees me.

I’m the man she loves.

I’m also the jerk who didn’t stick around to help her when she was a kid.

How the fuck is this happening?

I silence my phone again as she approaches.

“You’re here.” She stops just short of jumping in my arms.

She’s so beautiful. Dammit, so fucking beautiful and so kind. After everything she’s been through she still sees the good in the world. She saw the good in me.

“Are you alright?” I ask, my voice breaking.

I’ve wanted to ask her that question for nineteen years. I’ve thought about her every single

fucking day for nineteen years.

Her blue eyes scan my face. “Are you okay, Barrett?”

My phone rings again. I shake my head.