Sweetest Sorrow

by J. M. Darhower

  "Did you learn that from your father?"

  That question damn near stalled Genna's heart. "What?"

  "Hotwiring cars. Is that something your father taught you?"

  Genna swallowed thickly. "I taught myself."

  "Interesting."

  "Why? Because I'm a woman?"

  "It has nothing to do with you being a woman," he said, pausing beside the car, "and everything to do with your father being Primo Galante."

  The sound of that name on the stranger's lips made Genna lightheaded. Primo Galante. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "You don't have to lie to me. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't. I'm not in the business of hurting pregnant women."

  "What about the non-pregnant ones?"

  "Only when necessary."

  "Well, at least you're honest," she said, clutching her stomach.

  "You can relax," he said. "I'm not here for you."

  "Why are you here?"

  "I was nearby on business and figured I'd check on the property."

  Her brow furrowed. The property?

  "I inherited it years ago," he explained, "but I have no use for it, so when Amaro asked about a safe house, I offered it up."

  "Oh, it's yours."

  "Technically."

  The man reached inside the car, flicking the wires apart, cutting it off. It struck her then, as she watched him. He knew the car didn't belong to her because it belonged to him.

  "I didn't know," she said, motioning to the car. "I knew it belonged to somebody, but it was just sitting there, and that was kind of sad, you know? Because it's a great car, and really, it's a shame to let it rot."

  "It is a shame," he agreed.

  "You said you inherited this house, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Can I ask you something about it?"

  "You already did."

  Genna couldn't tell if the guy had deadpanning down to a science or if he just legitimately left his sense of humor back wherever he came from. "Can I ask you some more stuff?"

  "If you insist."

  Something told her he wasn't the kind of guy who took kindly to insisting, so she treaded lightly. "The people that used to live here, the family… what happened to them?"

  He didn't answer right away, his attention on the car still.

  "I mean, I know it's none of my business," she continued. "But I've been living here in their house, surrounded by their stuff, and really, let's be real… there isn't shit to do out here except think. So I was just thinking, you know…"

  "About what kind of people would live in his hellhole?"

  She hesitated as his eyes shifted to her. "Basically."

  "Long story short, they're dead, for the most part."

  He didn't elaborate.

  "Is this like an Amityville Horror type deal? You know, one goes nutso and kills the rest?"

  "Not quite."

  "Well, can you maybe make that short story version a bit longer here?"

  He walked around the car, coming closer, and leaned against the side of it. "The woman was psychotic. The man thought isolating her here would help, but isolation doesn't solve problems. It just narrowed the pool on which she could prey. She drank herself to death, alone and miserable, long after driving everyone else away. The man didn't live long enough to see that happen."

  "What happened to him?"

  "He got himself killed."

  Whoa. "And the kids?"

  "Girl grew up to be just like her mother. Got herself killed, too. Man didn't live long enough to see that, either."

  "And the little boy?"

  "He suffered the worst fate of them all."

  "What happened?"

  "He gets to stand here and entertain your questions."

  She gaped at him. "You?"

  He extended his hand. "Corrado Moretti."

  "Genevieve Galante," she said, shaking his hand. "Call me Genna… or well, I guess it's actually Jen? I don't know what I'm going by these days, so call me whatever."

  Corrado let go to turn back to the car. "The Lincoln was my father's pride and joy. He never let anyone else touch it."

  Shit. "I didn't know."

  Reaching into his pocket, Corrado pulled out a set of keys, unwinding one off the ring. He held it out to her, the sunlight gleaming off of the old metal. "I know he'd prefer you use the key if you're going to be driving it."

  She took the key from him, eyes wide. "Are you sure?"

  "I have no use for it, and like you said, it's a shame to let it rot."

  Genna started to thank him when Matty's voice shouted her name from inside the house, his panic palpable.

  "I should, uh, you know..." Genna motioned toward the back door. "You're welcome to come in or whatever, considering it's yours and all."

  She didn't wait for his response before ducking into the house, running right into Matty in the living room. He grabbed her, pulling her to him. Her gaze flickered past him, catching sight of Gavin, gun drawn and firmly in his grip, wearing the most serious expression she'd ever seen him wear.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, voice low. "Who's here?"

  "Relax, it's okay," she said. "It's just—"

  Before she could finish, Corrado stepped through the back door.

  Gavin froze.

  "Amaro," Corrado said. "Didn't your father teach you not to point a gun at someone unless you plan to pull the trigger?"

  Gavin lowered the gun. "My father taught me a lot, like how you can never be too careful."

  "I imagine he did," Corrado said. "He's a good man, Johnny Amaro. Too bad I can't say the same thing about the rest of your fathers."

  Matty tugged Genna with him as he took a protective step back.

  "It's okay," Genna told him. "He owns the house. He's not here to hurt us or anything."

  "Matteo Barsanti, Corrado Moretti," Gavin said, introducing them. "I guess you've already met Genevieve."

  "Moretti," Matty said. "The DeMarco family."

  "Correct," Corrado said. "As I told Genevieve, I just stopped by to check on things. I'll be on my way now."

  "You don't have to rush off," Genna said. Man, the atmosphere was tense. "Stick around, maybe have dinner or something. I mean, I can't cook and we don't have delivery, but Matty knows how to use a stove and we can just, like, send Gavin away, since he's really annoying."

  Gavin rolled his eyes while Corrado, who hadn't cracked a single smile since showing up, actually laughed. "I appreciate the offer, and no offense, but I'm not fond of being in this house. But if you need anything, Amaro knows how to get ahold of me."

  Corrado slipped by them, walking through the downstairs of the house. Genna pulled away from Matty's grasp to follow the man onto the front porch. Matty lurked behind her, in the foyer, watching and listening, always skeptical of everybody. Would it be that way for the rest of their lives? Isolation doesn't solve problems.

  "Thank you," Genna said. "For everything. For the house. The key. Not a lot of people would be so hospitable, given the circumstances."

  "I know what it's like to suffer at the hands of your parents." Corrado stepped off the porch. "It's unfortunate, children paying the price. That's why I was happy to hear about your brother."

  Genna blinked rapidly, those words a kick to the gut.

  The door to the house flung open, Matty stepping out, grabbing her arm. "Let's go inside, Genna."

  Genna shrugged him off, taking a step forward. "You were happy about my brother?"

  "Of course," Corrado said, pausing to look at her. "We say a lot of goodbyes in this life with not too many chances to ever say hello again. Dante's one of the lucky few. You get another chance."

  Corrado got in his car to leave, while Genna rooted in spot like a tree. Those words kept flowing through her mind, a continual loop. Dante's one of the lucky few…

  She shook her head. No. There was no way. It wasn't possible. Whatever he'd heard had been a mistake. It had been a lie. Her brother was gone and wouldn
't be coming back. Dante had told her that himself. When a Barsanti got ahold of you, there would be nothing left to find.

  Genna watched the car disappear down the highway. Sickness stirred inside of her, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, like Corrado Moretti drove away and took all semblance of peace with him.

  Certain moments of Matty's life were forever burned in his memory, moments that cut him to the core, altering him as a person. Finding out his best friend was gone. Seeing his mother take her last breath. Watching his brother bleed out in the street. They were moments that stole a piece of his soul, pieces he could never get back.

  And standing on the battered porch, as Genna turned to face him, seeing the turmoil in her blue eyes, he felt it. Her expression branded itself into his subconscious. There would be no coming back from it. She was stealing his soul, like they always warned him she would.

  "Genna," he whispered, reaching for her, his fingertips grazing her arm when she pulled back just enough for his hand to fall from her skin.

  "Did something happen with my brother?" she asked. "Did they find something? Did they find him?"

  The door to the house opened, Gavin stepping out onto the porch. Matty's eyes flickered to him, hoping his cousin had some way to smother the igniting fire, but it was too late to stop the flames.

  "No, don't do that," Genna said, panic in her voice as she grabbed his chin, forcing him to face her. "Don't look at him. Look at me. Me, Matty. Not Gavin!"

  His eyes shifted to meet her gaze. "Genna…"

  "I asked you a question!" Tears welled in her eyes. "Why aren't you answering it? Why won't you answer me?"

  "Look, just calm down, okay? You're getting yourself worked up. It's not good for the baby."

  "Don't! Don't dare try to guilt me. Don't belittle me."

  "I'm not."

  "You are!" she yelled, the sound of her raised voice pebbling Matty's skin. "You're treating me like I'm just some irrational, emotional woman. You're not answering my question. I deserve the truth! And I'm asking you… I'm begging you… tell me!"

  Reaching up, Matty pressed his palms to her flushed cheeks, cradling her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her skin. He knew he had to tell her.

  God, he didn't want to...

  Not now. Not yet.

  She was nearing the end of her pregnancy, already in the third trimester, and things back in New York were dangerous. She didn't need that kind of stress. The timing couldn't be worse.

  "I love you, Genevieve. You know I love you. I'd do anything for you. I'd do anything you ask of me."

  "I'm asking you to tell me."

  Matty sighed. "They found Dante right after we left New York."

  "Alive?"

  Matty hesitated before nodding.

  She cracked, those tears breaking through, streaming down her cheeks. Her knees damn near buckled, but he grabbed ahold of her before she collapsed, helping her sit down on the porch as he knelt in front of her.

  "He's alive," she whispered, her face contorting as she tried to hold back a sob. "You knew the whole time?"

  "I found out a few months ago," he said. "The first time Gavin visited."

  "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you keep this from me? Why did you let me keep thinking my brother was dead? We had a funeral!"

  She shoved against him, almost pushing him over, but he grabbed her arms to steady himself and to keep her from lashing out. "Because it wasn't safe in the city. It isn't safe. And I knew when I told you that you'd want to go back, that you'd want to see him."

  "Wouldn't you?" she cried. "If it was your brother, wouldn't you want to see him?"

  "Not if it were dangerous."

  "Bullshit! You risked your life to visit your mother!"

  "That's different."

  "How?"

  "Because it was just my life I risked. Jesus Christ, Genna... you're pregnant! We're about to be parents! It's not just about us anymore. We have to think about the baby."

  "I am thinking about the baby. I'm always thinking about the baby. Maybe it's dangerous in the city, but at least they're living. We're just hiding!"

  Matty scrubbed his hands down his face. "I can't let you go back there, Genna."

  "But you can't stop me, either."

  "Please," he begged. "Just please listen to me."

  "I am listening, Matty. I hear what you're saying. And maybe if you said it months ago, it would've been different. But I just... I don't even know what to say to you right now. I don't know what to think. You let me mourn for months when you knew he was alive, and why? For what? Because you didn't trust me?"

  "I do trust you."

  "You don't," she said. "You didn't trust me enough to let me decide for myself. You made this decision on your own. You chose for me. You thought me grieving was better than me knowing my brother was alive. And maybe you meant well. Maybe you had good intentions. But you've hurt me, Matty, because you did the one thing you promised you'd never do—you treated me like that fragile ice princess."

  She shoved up from the step and headed for the house, stalling on the porch, face-to-face with Gavin. "Have you seen him? Dante?"

  Gavin nodded.

  "Is he okay?"

  Gavin hesitated.

  "Don't lie to me," she said. "Please don't."

  "He has his moments."

  "Does he know about me?" Her hands ghosted across her stomach. "About us?"

  "He knows what everybody else does."

  "Which is what?"

  "That you vanished."

  She stomped past him, bursting into the house and slamming the door behind her.

  "That girl," Gavin said, pointing to the door, "is just like her brother."

  Matty ran his hands down his face. "This isn't how any of this was supposed to happen."

  "I don't know," Gavin said. "Isn't this kind of what it's like to be a Barsanti?"

  "What? All fucked up?"

  "Pretty much."

  "Story of my life," Matty said, "but this was supposed to be different. This was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to do things right. This wasn't supposed to be like everything else."

  "Yeah, well, you took the girl away from the Galantes but you'll never take the Galante out of that girl. And you know, I don't think you really want to."

  Gavin strolled off the porch, stepping past Matty.

  "I'm going to leave you to your wife," he said, heading for his rental car. "Not sucking the poison out of this bite."

  Matty glared at him, watching as the car drove off, before heading inside. The downstairs was empty, silent, so he headed up to the second floor, finding Genna sitting on the top step, lingering in the dim hallway. Her phone was in her hand, and she absently flipped it open and closed, staring into nothingness, her mind off somewhere else.

  After a few flips, her gaze went to her phone. She pressed buttons, fingers working fast, as she dialed a phone number.

  "What are you…?" He trailed off, not bothering to finish his question as she brought the phone to her ear, listening. From where he stood, he heard the voicemail pick up without ringing, a male voice telling her to leave a message. Dante.

  "I've called that number a few times, just to hear his voice," she whispered, flipping the phone closed again. "Not once has he answered. It stopped ringing long ago."

  "I don't know what to tell you."

  She nodded, standing up, like she wasn't surprised by his lack of explanation. "I need some time alone to think. So can you give me that?"

  "Whatever you need."

  A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Matty's stomach as he watched her walk down the hall, disappearing into the little boy's bedroom and closing the door, shutting him out.

  So many times he imagined their own little boy moving into that room. Maybe it was naïve, but Matty thought it could work. He believed they would've been happy. It wasn't perfect, but hell, it was something. It was their something. But he knew, watching that door close behind Genna, that
any hope of that happening had disappeared.

  Matty wandered the house in silence before heading to bed alone after dark. It took awhile for him to doze off, in and out of a restless sleep, jolting awake sometime after midnight, that feeling inside of him growing stronger, rooting deeper. Throwing the covers off, he climbed out of bed, pausing when he noticed the door across the hall wide open.

  No Genna.

  He searched the house, seeking her out, sighing when he spotted her. Genna sat behind the wheel of the Lincoln out back, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight. Matty walked outside, joining her, slipping into the passenger seat. A key stuck out of the ignition, the car turned off but her seatbelt clipped on, like she wanted to run but that first step was too terrifying. He wondered how long she'd be sitting there, how long she'd been contemplating leaving him. Tears coated her cheeks, her eyes bloodshot as she stared straight ahead. Besides her phone on the seat next to her, she had nothing with her… nothing except that old, worn out map she'd stolen from the truck when they first set out on their journey, those veins and arteries pumping life through a country that she'd scoured relentlessly, searching for the heart.

  "I'm guessing you've finally decided where you want to go," he said. "Finally decided where you want to call home."

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "Don't be," he said. "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I was afraid of losing you, afraid of losing us. Because I know he's your brother, Genna. I know he's your best friend. But he's also the guy who killed my brother. He's the guy who pointed a gun at my head. So I know there's a chance that when it comes down to it, it's going to be either me or him."

  "How am I supposed to choose?"

  "I don't know," he said, "and I'd never ask you to, but others might, and that terrifies me. You're right, though. I should've trusted you. And I made a promise. I said wherever you wanted to go, we'd go, so…"

  "So…"

  "So let's go."

  Snow covered the icy Manhattan sidewalks, flakes drifting from the overcast late February sky as coldness clung to the city. A cloud of breath surrounded Gabriella when she stepped out of her building, a shiver tearing through her. She pulled her coat tighter around her body, scowling up at the sky, at a traitorous sun that hadn't shown its face in days.