Page 124 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

“Bastian, I’d like you to meet my brother,” De Luca said, placing a comforting hand on Enzo’s shoulder. Bastian gave Enzo his most dazzling smile, suddenly nervous.

“Charmed,” he said. Enzo just stared at him, a wary look in his eyes. He had been through a lot.

“I repeat,” Whitby said, “shouldn’t we be getting out of here?”

“All right, darling,” Bastian said, “keep your fur on.”

He grabbed the oars and began to row. De Luca put his arms around his brother as Bastian steered them through the cave and then, finally, out to sea.

40

Two Weeks Later

De Luca’s home was not built for the number of people who were attempting to fit into it. They filled the kitchen, eating finger sandwiches and homemade tortas, chatting, drinking, and cleaning all at the same time. They spilled out into the street, where they sipped red wine and smoked, looking like wedding guests, aside from the fact that every one of them wore black.

Bastian couldn’t find De Luca among them.

He squeezed into the kitchen, apologizing for bumping people and eventually resorting to pressing himself up against the wall to scan the crowd.

“Maybe he went for a walk,” Whitby suggested, hopping onto the windowsill. Bastian couldn’t help thinking it was a good thing she had black fur—she didn’t have to rush out to the town’s only formal clothing store and purchase an ill-fitting black outfit with a day’s notice, likesomepeople did.

He eyed the stairs to the first floor, where more people had gathered.

“I have an idea where he is. I’ll be right back.”

Apologizing as he went, he maneuvered his way up the stairs. A few people stared at him, perhaps recognizing him as the vampire who had been given a full pardon in the wake of Arianna’s arrest, or perhaps they were just looking at him the way people tended to look at him, sensing his difference on a chemical level.

“Fabulous hat,” Bastian told one of them. “Absolutely divine.”

On the landing, he knocked lightly at the door and opened it to peek into De Luca’s bedroom.

De Luca sat on his bed, elbows resting on his knees, face downturned. His black hair was slicked back, and, by some unfair miracle, his suit made him look even more dashing than his police uniform did.

“I thought you might be in here,” Bastian said.

De Luca looked up. “Please don’t tell me you’ve brought cake. The neighbors have been trying to feed me since before the funeral.”

“Empty hands,” Bastian said, flashing his palms. “You’re safe.”

“Meno male.”Thank goodness.

Bastian shut the door, muffling the chatter of the wake, and went to sit next to De Luca on the bed. He nudged De Luca’s knee with his own—a subtle show of togetherness, of compassion—and felt that delighted ripple in his belly when De Luca nudged back.

“It was a beautiful service,” Bastian said.

“Grazie.”

They said nothing for a moment, Bastian listening to De Luca’s heartbeat. Then De Luca said, “Want to hear something crazy?”

“Always, darling.”

“I can’t stop thinking that if Arianna hadn’t done what she did, I wouldn’t have had those final few days with Enzo. Not in the same way.”

Bastian nodded. “That’s understandable.”

“I’m grateful for it. I know it’s wrong, but I am.”

In the days following the showdown in the cave, Enzo had almost seemed cured. He ate and drank and laughed. He and De Luca showed Bastian and Whitby the Vernazza sights, and Enzo seemed fine. Bastian loved seeing the lightness that graced De Luca’s body, the sight filling Bastian with a bright, glittering kind of joy.