Page 70 of Vicious Secrets
I push past him and let us into Reg’s den. Vi yanks down the curtains on the windows, spraying bits of wood and drywall into the air. The room fills with gray light.
He puts his hands on his hips and rolls his shoulders as he faces where I sit on the edge of a sideboard table.
“After Mel’s father died, I offered her a clean cut from the Fedeltà.” His voice cracks. “I offered her a divorce.”
My stomach drops, and my lungs suck in a belly-deep breath like they think it might be the last one I get for a while.
“You love me so much you would have done anything, anything to stop me from self-destructing. That’s why I pushed you away, Siro. I had to do what was right for Mel. And I knew you wouldn’t understand.” He lets out a dry laugh and shakes his head. “You couldn’t call what we had ‘love at first sight’ because she didn’t have a choice in sights! So I gave her a choice that was as life-altering as the choice I’d made for her.”
“And she chose to stay.”
“And I’ll never understand why.”
“You’re a better man and a better husband than me. I only offered Robyn her own house and considered allowing her to have affairs.” I cross my arms over my chest to hide the chill of disgust crawling down my spine.
“When you two are arm-in-arm at a party, everyone can feel the love radiating off of you.” A face-splitting grin contorts Vi’s features. “You’re never getting rid of her or me. Sucks to suck, jackass.”
I smile back and push off the table. Vi meets me in the center of the room for the first hug we’ve shared in twenty years.
Chapter 21
Robyn
ThemorningofChristmasisn’t lacking in holiday spirit. By the time Siro wakes up at ten and makes it into the kitchen for coffee, I’m practically bouncing off the walls. It took me forever to settle on a present for him, and I’m dying to see his reaction.
“So when you turned twenty-seven, you didn’t magically lose your ability to sleep in? I’m wide awake by eight-thirty regardless of how much sleep I got.” I set a plate of breakfast on the dining table in front of Siro and take my spot on his right.
“You mean wired, not wide, right?” he asks as he sets down his coffee cup. The t-shirt he slept in does nothing to hide the state of his arms. Several of his tattoos are now misaligned. A pang of guilt stabs me.
“No. My energy drink days are over. Tiff said mob housewives don’t drink them; they hire nannies.”
Siro coughs out a laugh. “Was that an off-hand comment? Or did Tiff ask you about children?”
“She was asking about midwifery. What it took to become certified and all that jazz. I guess Renzo never let her look into it.” I pick up my cup and find it’s empty. I can’t silence myself with it, and I shouldn’t. I have to stop avoiding the demons of our past. “When we got married, did you want kids?”
Siro chews thoughtfully and swallows. “It was an expectation, not a want. In truth, I don’t think I’ve ever liked the idea of heirs. Children should be born out of love and nothing else. The best leaders earn their titles. The Fedeltà understands perseverance, but it doesn’t recognize it.” He tilts his chin up and then looks over at me. “That was a no, by the way.”
I chuckle. “I got that. But thanks for clarifying.”
Siro smiles, winks, and returns to eating. I grab a fresh cup of coffee. As I sit back at his side, Siro loops an arm around my waist and pulls me to sit sideways on his lap.
“I was hurt you forgot a secret, babe. It didn’t change my feelings for you.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Siro. I should have told you sooner.”
“Thanksgiving was the first time anyone’s stood up to your mother for you.” He dips his chin to rest his lips on my temple.
It’s not a question. I don’t know what gave the truth away, but there is a laundry list of options.
“After Dad died in an accident, Mom started treating me more like a best friend than a daughter, which was cool as an eight-year-old because I got to do adult things. But I didn’t notice that I’d become the only adult in our family.”
Siro sits back and runs his fingers through my hair. “Can I ask a weird, possibly offensive question about the ‘adult things’?”
I turn my head and meet his eyes. “Fourteenth birthday.”
He pales, and his fingers snag in my hair as they jerk to a stop.
“It was consensual.” I take a drink of my coffee and set the mug aside in case Siro decides to smash me against his chest without warning.
