Page 132 of When She Loves
My consigliere embraces me and gives my back a hard slap. “You’ll always be my brother, even though you’re an asshole. And Gino Ferraro will die one day.”
“He will,” I promise him. But even when he does, Nero won’t be able to come back. Not with Gino’s three sons still around. They’ll always remember the man who killed their cousin.
This is goodbye.
Nero and Sandro walk out, and Giorgio, Ras, and I get to work. We pour the gasoline everywhere, until the house smells toxic and everything is doused in the fluid. I grab a rag from the back of my car and wipe my hands clean, watching as Giorgio flicks on his lighter and sets a rolled newspaper aflame. He carries it over to the house and tosses it through the front door. Within minutes, the entire building is on fire.
We stand there for a while longer, witnessing the destruction. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Ras looking at me.
I sniff. “Your boss and you two did me a solid. I won’t forget it.”
He nods. “We know. But we didn’t do it for you.”
My jaw clenches. Of course. They did it for Cleo.
Take care of her.
The words are right there, begging to be set free, but I don’t say them. My throat is too tight to get them out. We shake hands, say goodbye, and I get into my car to drive home.
It feels like I’ve been up for three days straight. When I get back to the house, I stagger into our bedroom. Her scent fills my nose, and I glance around, half expecting to see her.
But she’s gone.
I told her to go, but there was a part of me that hoped she wouldn’t listen.
A part that I’m going to have to bury.
I sit on the edge of the bed, prop my elbows on my knees, and hang my head between my shoulders.
Funny how one’s life can change in the span of a single day.
CHAPTER40
CLEO
A week and a half later,I sit down for dinner with everyone in Vale and Damiano’s home in Casale Di Principe. I stare at my hand-painted dinner plate. It’s beautiful. A blue and white pattern with birds, flowers, and leaves. It reminds me of the plates we had at my wedding.
I’ve grown up a lot since that day.
The months of my marriage made me realize something about myself. Something that feels like a fundamental truth. The kind that once you see it, you can’t unsee it. It follows you everywhere, a lens through which you perceive your past in an entirely new light.
I always thought my defiance and constant rebellion were proof that my parents didn’t get to me the way they got to Gemma and Vale. I never bought into their shit. If they wanted something from me, I’d do the opposite. I knew how to ignore their expectations, how to spit on their vision for my future. I thought that made me strong.
It was after I went back to Loretta’s after she first kicked me out that the truth dawned on me. Standing there on her doorstep and humbling myself before her…thatwas hard. Rebelling against my parents was easy. It made me feel better about myself. It was something I leaned into when I felt like I was crumbling inside.
So really, I’d been lying to myself for years. My parentsdidget to me. Deep down, they made me feel worthless. To them, I always was and always will be worthless. They broadcasted that message with their every word and action, and I’d believed it. No matter how I’d lie to myself or pretend otherwise, I’d believed it.
It was because of Rafaele that I started to believe something else.
He fed me a new narrative about myself. A reframing of my existence. And it felt good. Boy, it feltgood. Which is maybe why it hurts so bad now that I know it was all a lie. He didn’t see my worth either. I was a plaything, an amusing fixture in his rigid life. Until I was no longer fun. It was so easy for him to say goodbye.
I glance up and catch my sisters exchanging a concerned look. Since we arrived here, they’ve given me the space to… I don’t even know what, to be honest. Grieve?
Yes, that’s the right word.
The man I loved broke my heart.
My marriage has collapsed.
