I don’t ever want her to feel like she has to hide.
Maria leaves and I shift on the couch. I can’t tell if I’m hungover or drunk or somewhere in between. I can’t think of anything that would make me feel better right now except Mia’s laugh, Mia’s touch, Mia rolling her eyes at my stupid jokes.
Like an angel, she walks into the room. She walks over to the couch and drops down to the floor next to me, cradling me in her arms, resting her head on my chest. I run my fingers through her silky hair, and instantly I feel immediately lighter.
“What else needs done today?” she asks.
“Relax. Everything is done.”
“Are you alright?”
I kiss her forehead and breathe in her smell. “I am now.”
Before I can pull her up on the couch next to me, she starts to sob. Not full on bawling, but these muted little mewls that tug at the strings of my heart one by one. I’ve never heard her cry like that before, but it hurts down into my bones.
“Things are gonna get better, mouse. I promise. My mom is in a better place now. She doesn’t have to fight anymore.”
She won’t quit crying, no matter how hard I hug her, no matter how much I kiss her. I get this feeling that whatever she’s upset about is somehow worse than grieving a death. She barely even knew my mom, and what interaction she had wasn’t good, at least, not until recently.
“I have to tell you something,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I don’t know how you’re going to take it, but I have to tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I promise. I’m here for you. Nothing you tell me is going to upset me. I will always love you.” I know those are generally just lies we tell ourselves and the people we care about when shit is about to hit the fan, but I know in my heart there’s nothing to worry about. I know more than anything she’s eternally mine.
She kneels in front of me and wipes the tears from her eyes, taking a deep breath and fanning her face.
“Your mother told me some things that day before she passed,” she says. I can tell she’s trying to blink back tears.
“You know what my family does, Mia. You know what kind of man you’re marrying. You’ve known your whole life.”
She shakes her head. “You weren’t attacked by the Cammaranos,” she blurts out. “The reason why your parents were in such a hurry to get rid of me is they thought I might have witnessed something.”
I sit bolt upright on the couch, clutching my head in my hands, trying to piece together whatever she’s trying to tell me.
“I didn’t want to tell you this, but Fabian thought it was best you heard it from me.”
“You told Fabian before me?” I growl.
“Under any other circumstances, I would’ve come to you first. I didn’t think it was right for you to have to grieve your dead mother and find out she’s a monster on the same day. She sent the last twelve years covering for your father, a man who wanted to start a turf war so badly he almost had you killed. He hired some thugs to make it look like the Cammaranos waged an attack, and he dragged everyone you love into war over it.”
My heart starts to race and my head feels like it’s about to explode. I gasp for air, but my chest is tight.
“My mother told you all that?”
“I’m sorry, Serafin. I didn’t know what to do. Please, don’t be mad at me.” She puts up her hands defensively like I’m about to hit her. She’s shaking like a fucking leaf, and I don’t know what pisses me off more, the story she just told me or the fact that she thinks I’d ever lay a hand on her.
“I’m not my father. I’m not your ex husband. If you don’t know that by now, maybe you can go talk to Fabian about it.”
I get up from the couch and storm out the front door, my thoughts spinning wildly in my mind. My father was a brutal man who always got his own way, and the war with the Cammaranos was hard fought. When I got out of the hospital, half of the men who worked for the Kings were dead or seriously injured. We ultimately won, but the damage it did to the organization and so many families is still felt today.
Still feeling it now.
There was nothing I could do to stop it, because I was the catalyst, a weight I still have to shoulder. The smell of funeral flowers won’t leave me, and I puke all over the driveway, the taste of acidic blood and stale scotch burning in the back of my throat.
Indirectly, I’m responsible for all of this.
And now, the only person I care about, the only person who ever truly gave a fuck about me is afraid I’m going to take it out on her.
I’m a fucking monster. I’m worse than her ex. At least he wore his heart on his sleeve and she knew exactly what he was getting into.
She thinks I’m just a walking time bomb. She thinks I’m no better than the family I was born into. She thinks I’m about to explode at any minute and hurt somebody.
And right this instant, I’m not sure she’s exactly wrong.
25
Mia:
That went about exactly as I expected it to.
I feel like complete shit, laying here on the floor crying into a blanket as I hear his car speed off. I feel like the worst fiancé in the world for letting him leave after that conversation, but what else is there to say?
I knew the instant I put my hands up to my face I made a grave mistake, but that had nothing to do with him, just my natural conditioning thanks to Bartek. That hurt look I saw tonight was
