Sweetest Sorrow

by J. M. Darhower

"A female somebody?" Genna asked. "Maybe one that hails from Jersey?"

  He cut his eyes at her. "How'd you guess?"

  "I didn't guess, dumb ass. She's how I knew where to find you."

  "Oh."

  That was all he could think to say. Oh.

  "Oh?" Genna repeated. "That's all you've got to say?"

  He shrugged. "What else is there to say?"

  She stared at him with disbelief before shaking her head and grabbing his arm. "Come on, I'm sure there's something in the fridge we can eat to sober you up a bit so you can tell me about this girlfriend you supposedly have, because drunk Dante is acting like it's all completely normal and I don't know what to make of that."

  Dante didn't resist, staggering along with her down the stairs. "I don't know if we can call her my girlfriend now."

  "Why not?"

  "Because," he said, "I don't know."

  "Well, that clears it up," Genna said, dragging him into the kitchen. She flicked on the light, waltzing right over to the fridge, while Dante leaned against the wall. She shifted things around, pulling out leftover containers, yanking off lids and sniffing the contents. She walked back and forth across the room, tossing stuff into the trashcan.

  Dante watched her, laughing as she stood in front of the microwave, absently rocking back and forth, heating something up. "You waddle."

  She turned his way. "Excuse me?"

  "You waddle when you walk," he said. "Like a penguin."

  She pointed a fork at him as the microwave beeped. "Say that again and I will stab you."

  "Won't be the first one to do it." Dante pulled up his shirt, looking at the scars on his side. One was smoother than the other, professionally sewn up, while the second was more of a jagged gash, like a chunk had been taken out.

  "Who the hell stabbed you?"

  "Tweedle-whatever." Dante dropped his shirt again. "One of those assholes. Got me right after I dropped you off for community service that day. Then he got me again, a few months ago, at a bar over in Soho."

  "Why were you at a bar in Soho?"

  "I went to see Barsanti."

  "Seriously? Are you crazy?"

  "That's the same thing Gabriella asked."

  "Well, then, that means the motion has been seconded, which makes that shit law. You've officially lost your mind."

  Genna filled two plates with food before heading to the dining room. Dante followed, watching as she set them on the table, sitting in the same chair she'd sat in for family dinner, not hesitating before sliding the second plate across from her. Dante glared at it as he walked over, plopping down in the chair at the head of the table, a chair no one had ever sat in except for Primo. Dante grabbed the plate and stared down at the food. It was a horrendous buffet of whatever she'd found, from leftover pasta to scraps of shredded lettuce and a crouton or two. "What is this shit?"

  "Something to put in your stomach," she answered, taking a bite out of a pickle.

  "I'm not hungry."

  "Doesn't matter," she said. "You need to eat."

  He stabbed at some lump of something with a fork. "You sound like Gavin."

  "Oh, ugh… don't even mention that guy to me right now."

  "He's my best friend these days. Or he was. Don't know if we can call him that now."

  "I thought I was your best friend."

  "You died," Dante said, taking a bite. "He knew the truth and didn't tell me."

  "Same," Genna said. "Matty hid it from me, too."

  "So did Gabriella, hence the might-not-be-my-girlfriend thing."

  "Because she didn't tell you?"

  "Yeah."

  Genna munched for a moment before pointing her pickle at him. "Do you love her?"

  "Yes."

  His answer was instant.

  Genna seemed taken aback, needing a moment to find words again. "Well, then, can I give you some advice? From someone who has experience with the whole 'being in a relationship' thing?"

  "I'm not sure I want relationship advice from someone with your track record."

  She rolled her eyes. "I'm giving it to you, anyway."

  Dante waved his fork, telling her to continue.

  "When the right person comes along, they're worth fighting for. They're worth the risk. You shouldn't let anything get in the way. Because shit happens, and people make mistakes, and things get messy and ugly and sometimes it all really hurts, but at the end of the day, they're worth it, because they make you feel something nobody else can. And it's better, I think, to ride a roller coaster with them than to stand on the ground alone, watching everyone else."

  Dante forced a bite down. "You don't know her. How do you know she's the right person?"

  "Seriously? She got you—Mr. Monogamy-is-for-Pussies—to commit. The girl's gotta be a miracle worker. She's a saint. Like, the Pope should literally give her Sainthood."

  "He should," Dante agreed.

  "So that's how I know," Genna said. "And besides, I've met her father. I'm intimately aware of the fact that he carries a gun, so I'm about seventy-six percent sure if you dump her, he's going to shoot you."

  "Oh, yeah, he'll do more than shoot me."

  "And I kind of like having you around," Genna said. "I just got you back in my life about twenty minutes ago. Don't fuck this up for me, Dante."

  He stabbed at the food on the plate in silence, shoving it all around, as Genna ate another pickle. "Aren't pregnant woman supposed to eat those with ice cream?"

  Her gaze darted right to him. "Oh God, ice cream."

  She dashed from the room. Sighting, Dante dropped the fork and followed, leaving the plate there, wanting nothing to do with it. He stepped into the kitchen, seeing the freezer door wide open as Genna pulled things out, tossing them on the counter. "I doubt you're going to find any—"

  Genna held up a black carton. "Ice cream?"

  "That's gotta be at least a year old."

  She shrugged. "It's been frozen."

  Dante watched as she dished it out, handing a bowl to him. He grabbed a spoon out of the drawer before leaning back against the counter, glaring at the ice crystals coating the top of the chocolate ice cream. "It's freezer burned."

  "Oh, quit your bitching." Genna struggled to haul herself up onto the counter, bowl in hand. "Seriously, I don't remember you complaining this much before. You used to be so agreeable. What happened?"

  "I died."

  "No, you didn't," she said. "And neither did I, for the record, which means our best-friendship pact is still intact, so I'm gonna need Gavin to take a seat on that one."

  Dante smiled to himself as he swirled the ice cream around in his bowl, mixing it all together. "So, where are you staying?"

  "I don't know," she said. "I was so focused on getting back to New York that I didn't really think about what happened afterward."

  "Stay here," he said, shrugging.

  "What about Matty?"

  "What about him?"

  "He needs somewhere to stay."

  Dante swirled his ice cream around a little more ferociously at that. "I'm sure I can find a ditch somewhere for him."

  "Dante…"

  "I don't like it." Dante tossed the bowl down on the counter without eating any of it. "I don't like him. Not a fucking bit. There are few people I like less, frankly."

  She narrowed her eyes, biting her ice cream, teeth clanking against the metal spoon. "Game's over, remember? World War Whatever has come to an end. He's the lone surviving Barsanti. Time for a peace treaty."

  "I don't give a shit about him being a Barsanti. That's not why I hate him."

  "Then why?"

  "Because he fucked my little sister. He got her pregnant."

  Genna rolled her eyes. "If it makes it any better, he married me."

  "You married that asshole?"

  "I mean, we had to use fake names so it's not really legal, but…"

  "Good. That means don't have to go through the trouble of divorcing him, since it didn't count."

&nbs
p; "It did count. It counted to me."

  "And you call me crazy."

  "At least I risk my life for love. You risk yours for nothing, going to Soho to see Barsanti, like you're welcome there or something."

  "I went to ask him why he let me live."

  "Did he answer you?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Because Matteo was dead."

  "Seriously?"

  "He said enough people died. He didn't want my blood on his hands. He thought Matteo was dead, so I guess that means I got to live."

  "Huh, you know, in a way—"

  "Don't say it."

  "—that means—"

  "Stop."

  "—Matty totally saved your life."

  "No, he didn't."

  "Yep, he did," she said, "which means you owe him."

  "I owe him nothing."

  "You do, so you have to cut him some slack. Give him a break. He's a good guy, whole Barsanti thing aside. When we were away, he got a job. He worked in a diner for minimum wage just so he could try to give me a life, a real life… a safe one, like normal people have. He baked me cakes any time I wanted them. He didn't complain when I blew every penny he made on some project to keep myself busy. He ate pickles on pizza, for Christ's sake. Gabriella isn't the only Saint. The guy puts up with me. So you don't have to like him, but just… respect him."

  "Does he respect me?"

  "Doubtful."

  That didn't surprise Dante.

  He laughed under his breath, watching as his sister swirled her ice cream around, melting it, before drinking it right out of the side of the bowl. Silence surrounded them, and maybe it was the whiskey still sloshing through his veins, but Dante no longer felt the tightness in his chest, no longer felt that gaping hole that had been there when he woke up in the hospital.

  "I need a drink," he said, pushing away from the counter to stagger through the kitchen.

  "Wait, we're supposed to be sobering you up here, not letting you get drunker."

  "I'll sober up tomorrow," he said, spinning her direction. "In the past forty-eight hours, I was dragged to a meeting with the heads of the families, I witnessed Dad kill Barsanti before somebody killed Dad, I punched my now ex-best friend Gavin after my former friend Bert was murdered, I walked out on my girlfriend, and my pregnant sister came back from the dead to tell me she married Matteo Barsanti. So I need a drink, Genna… especially if you expect me to give you my blessing. I definitely need a drink for that."

  "Dante? Psstt… Dante!"

  Genna grabbed her brother's shoulder and shook him hard. He barely moved, laying flat on his back across the black couch in their father's office, clothes disheveled and only one shoe on. His eyes were closed, his chest rattling from snores.

  "Damnit, Dante," she grumbled, shaking him. "Wake up!"

  He stirred a bit, rolling over, shrugging her off and grumbling, facing the back of the couch. Genna scowled, looking around the bright room. It was well after sunrise, and Matty had to have been worried, since she'd never returned. She'd spent all night at the house, going to sleep in her parents bed, while Dante passed out on the stiff couch… same one her father used to always sleep on.

  It looked uncomfortable. How the hell had the man slept there every night for years?

  "Wake up, Dante," she said once more, giving him a moment. No response. Fuck this. Sticking her pointer finger in her mouth, she sucked on it, getting it good and wet before plunging it right in his ear, twisting.

  Dante jolted, rolling over so fast he damn near fell off the couch. Grabbing his ear, his eyes opened to greet her standing above him.

  It took a few seconds. Confusion. Annoyance. Total fucking shock. Eyes wide, he sat straight up, staring like he was seeing a ghost and seeing that ghost for the very first time. "Genna?"

  His voice was as gritty as sandpaper, obviously uncomfortable, based on the way he grimaced, gripping the side of his head. He blinked, the whites of his eyes painfully pink.

  Genna sighed. "Don't tell me you were so drunk last night that you forgot I was even here."

  "No, I remember." He scrunched up his nose, making a disgusted face. "Did you just wet willy me?"

  "You wouldn't respond."

  "I was sleeping."

  "But I needed you to wake up."

  "Why?"

  "Because I need to leave."

  And just like that, panic flooded his expression. "Leave? You just fucking got here!"

  "I don't mean leave-leave. I mean I have to leave the house. Matty's probably worried."

  "So?"

  "So I need to go see him and let him know I'm alright."

  "Ugh." Dante scrubbed his hands over his face. "What time is it?"

  "Ten in the morning."

  "What day is it?"

  "Monday, I think…"

  "Month?"

  "March." She tried to stick her finger in his ear again, but he blocked her attempt. "The first of the month, actually, in case you lost track of that."

  "I'd have lost track of my dick lately if it weren't attached to my body."

  "You used to lose track of what you stuck it in even though it was attached."

  "Ha-ha." He climbed to his feet, swaying. "Where's my other shoe?"

  Rolling her eyes, Genna grabbed his discarded shoe from the doorway. He slipped it on, not bothering to tie the laces, and wandered out of the office.

  Genna trailed him, watching him stagger. "Are you still drunk?"

  "Probably."

  Laughing, Genna followed Dante outside, damn near running right into his back when he stopped in front of the house. "A Lincoln Continental?"

  Genna slipped past him as he stared at the car. "You like it?"

  His gaze shifted her way. "It's yours?"

  Grinning, she pulled out the key, dangling it in front of his face. "It wasn't even running when I found it. I spent the past few months working on it. Impressed?"

  "Absolutely," Dante said, approaching it. "Not really surprised, though. You gonna let me drive it?"

  "Nope."

  "Then I'm not impressed anymore."

  Genna rolled her eyes, looking around. "Where's the Mercedes?"

  "Got rid of it."

  "How are you getting around?"

  "I got a new car. It's parked somewhere. Hopefully."

  "And that is precisely why you're not driving my Lincoln," she said. "Another thing you'll lose track of. But anyway, I'm guessing Matty's still at your apartment. Ugh, it's weird that you have an apartment. You have a girlfriend."

  "Says the girl who's having a baby soon."

  "Okay, this?" She waved at her swollen stomach. "This was a happy accident. But that?" She waved toward him. "That is you being a mature adult."

  "A mature adult."

  "Yes."

  "Did you know she was my nurse? That I met her at the hospital? That I showed up at her apartment one night, bleeding, and asked her to fix me, and then I kind of just kept going back, because I had nowhere else to go by then? That's not a mature adult. That's a fortunate degenerate."

  Genna laughed. "She actually put up with that?"

  "She almost shot me once when I broke in, but otherwise, yeah."

  "You know, the more I hear about this girl, the more I like her. I need you to get your shit together and work that out."

  "I hear you."

  Genna grabbed her brother, pulling him into a quick hug. "I'll see you in a bit, don't worry. Just, like, take a shower or something. You reek of alcohol."

  "Yeah, yeah, get out of here," he grumbled. "Go see your precious Matteo."

  Genna scowled, sticking her tongue out at him before getting in the car and driving away. She headed back to Little Italy, approaching the building just as someone opened the door. She slipped around them and trekked upstairs, drained by the time she reached the top floor. Her stomach cramped, tightening, and she clutched hold of it, grimacing. "Not yet, kid. Not yet."

  Genna knocked, hearing movement in
side, the sound of high heels approaching before locks shifted, the door opening. Gabriella stood in front of her, wearing a long sleeved black dress and heels.

  "Hey, come in," she said, stepping out of the way. "Matty just fell asleep."

  Genna glanced toward the couch, seeing Matty curled up. "I'm guessing he was up all night."

  "You guessed right."

  "Figures." She looked back at Gabriella. "Nice dress. You got plans or something? If so, you know, we can get out of your hair."

  "Oh, no, I've just got a meeting this afternoon. By all means, stay. I know the apartment is small, but you're welcome here for as long as you want."

  "I appreciate that," Genna said.

  Gabriella ran her fingers through her curled hair. "So you saw him?"

  "Dante? Yeah."

  "And he's okay?"

  "He was drunk as a skunk and about to fall off the balcony railing when I got there, but he seems better today. Hungover, but okay."

  Gabriella nodded but said nothing, heading into her bathroom.

  Genna strolled over to the couch and whispered, "Matty?"

  The second his name came from her lips, he shot straight up. "Genna."

  She plopped down beside him, shoving into his arms as he relaxed again. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, his hands caressing her stomach as he held her.

  "Did you save me some pizza?" she asked.

  "Of course."

  "Does it have pickles on it?"

  "You know it does."

  Smiling, she closed her eyes. "You're too good to me, Matty-B"

  He nuzzled against her, humming in her ear, "Never good enough, Princess."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Fresh out of college with a bachelor's degree in nursing, the first place Gabriella applied for a job was Presbyterian. She figured it a long shot, being as she was inexperienced, but they took a chance on her, offering her a position.

  It took a few years to secure the job in the ICU, and she floated for a while before the fateful day Dante Galante appeared. Years of hard work, long shifts, and concealed heartbreak; years full of losses with not so many happy endings. She imagined working there for the rest of her life.

  Guess plans change sometimes.

  Because one thing she never imagined, one thing she couldn't have planned for, was that she'd end up in the stifling boardroom, surrounded by staff with the power to discipline, listening as the Chief Nursing Officer laid out infraction after infraction. The unwritten rule was a six-month minimum: after seeing a patient professionally, six months had to pass before you could see them personally.