by Seth Eden
“That I never want to be without you again.”
And I kissed her, letting her know we were on the same exact page.
Epilogue
Kelly
Ten Months Later
I looked out our bay window at the craggy iron-gray mountains in the vast distance. California was such a different environment compared to Pennsylvania. The winters were far milder, the summers drier, and the air a bit smoggier, but we learned to call it home.
Maybe because we were there with no one to talk to but each other, we figured out how to work through any difficulties we were experiencing early on. Being shut off from everyone we knew was hard on both of us, and sometimes we struggled with our decision to leave. One bright spot was when we went to Lake Tahoe to elope three months in.
Even if that meant we became Kevin and Rachel Peterson rather than Marco and Kelly Varasso.
It had been a beautiful day in May with the smog-free sky reflecting in the placid waters of the lake. The pine trees and smooth round boulders were a nice contrast to the dry heat of the San Joachim Valley. It felt good to be married, to have committed ourselves to one another, and it made the times ahead easier to face. Especially when I began to have issues carrying our baby.
During my third trimester, and after a nearly perfectly healthy pregnancy up till that point, I started to experience nausea on a regular basis. I reported it to my doctor and discovered I had gestational diabetes. We had difficulty getting my insulin to equal out, and the baby grew so large they scheduled my delivery as a cesarean section.
It probably would’ve been fine if I hadn’t had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia, but I did. I lost consciousness for a few moments, and they had a hard time resuscitating me. This reminded Marco of when his brother’s girlfriend had gone into labor with his niece, dying unexpectedly due to the complication of an unknown heart condition.
And when I woke, for the first and only time in our relationship, Marco burst into tears.
I knew the fact that we had a little girl, just like Luca, only served to reinforce the memory. If I had died, he would’ve had to raise our daughter all by himself, without even his brothers nearby. This close call served to cement our relationship together in a way it hadn’t been before.
We only had one another to depend on, so we didn’t have the luxury of taking each other for granted.
I watched my husband as he went out to collect the mail, our daughter Amanda on one shoulder. We chose that name for a few reasons. One, it meant “one who deserves love” which she definitely did. Two, it fit in well with the names Kevin and Rachel. And three, it had an Italian origin, which was probably the only callback we’d get to make to Marco’s real roots.
Tomorrow was Thanksgiving and many of our neighbors had harvest decorations up. It felt far warmer than November in Philly did, but we were doing our best to start our own unique tradition among the three of us.
“Mommy, you won’t believe what Amanda just did,” my husband said, his features bright and voice pitched high. We’d taken to calling ourselves mommy and daddy instead of stumbling around with Rachel/Kelly and Kevin/Marco all the time. He’d tried wearing a well-trimmed beard to further disguise himself, and it worked so well with his mild-mannered façade that he kept it.
“What’d she do?”
“Smiled. A real one, too.”
“The pediatrician says that’s just gas,” I reminded him, keeping my tone teasing and light.
“That pediatrician is full of sh—” he broke off, censoring himself so the baby wouldn’t pick up any bad habits. “Poopy. It was real, I swear. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Giggling, I followed them back outside, more than happy to humor him. Our neighbors next door had all these whirligigs in their yard, and Amanda loved to stare at them. Marco had already ordered a couple off of Amazon so we’d soon have our own.
“It was just as I passed by this one,” he muttered, concentrating on retracing his steps. He traipsed back and forth by a whirligig that flowed in a rainbow of colors, trying to get our daughter to exhibit the same reaction. It took him about five trips, but then she did it. Our daughter totally smiled, her little lips spanning from ear to ear. “See? Isn’t she cute?”
“More than cute,” I agreed, giving her a nose kiss by nuzzling the tip of her nose with mine. The “isn’t she cute,” “more than cute” game was something we engaged in on a daily basis. Then, I stood on my tiptoes so I could give my husband a much different kind of kiss.
“Why Mrs. Peterson,” he said, his smile going from adorable to predatory. “I do believe you’re flirting with me. Whatever would your husband say?”
“I don’t know,” I turned to go back into the house, glancing over my shoulder coquettishly. We’d been waiting for tonight, the six-week anniversary of Amanda’s birth, to finally be intimate again. I’d been chomping at the bit, and I knew he was, too. We were keeping our daughter as active as possible today, hoping she’d go to sleep early. “Let’s go ask him.”
We went back inside, placed Amanda in her bouncy chair, and kissed again. We couldn’t go very far, not only because she was wide awake, but also because our regularly scheduled call from Ricky had come through. We broke apart, but I could see the disappointment in my husband’s eyes.
“Later,” I mouthed at him as he answered the call.
“How’s everything going?” Marco asked Ricky, and he answered in the code we’d become familiar with.
“On schedule. Looks like the boss will be looking for maximum efficiency.” Translation: Donovan, Dario, and Dante Bianchi had been convicted and were awaiting their sentences.
“How’s everyone doing?” I asked next.
“About the same. They miss you.”
“We miss them, too,” I said, “Tell them Happy Thanksgiving for us.”
“Will do.”
I was so grateful that Marco’s attorney was a family friend. It enabled us to keep in at least vague touch with everyone. They couldn’t ever know our location, and we couldn’t speak in any way but code to Ricky. But hearing that our families were all doing okay was a comfort. For a long time, I worried incessantly about my parents, but a series of amazing things happened after I left.
My dad got a new and much better paying job with retirement benefits. My mom had her surgeries. And my brother stepped up to watch over them. It was a relief to know that even though I wasn’t there, they were all doing well.
Marco disconnected and picked up the mail, sorting through it. Then, he went stock still, frozen from head to toe.
“Is something wrong?” I asked him. In answer, he handed over a postcard. On the front was a photo of Eastern State Penitentiary, a historic prison in Philadelphia which now gave tours and showcased exhibits. There was a postmark from there but no return address or anything else except for three words written in magic marker in all caps.
WATCH YOUR BACK.
Dark King
1
Willow
“Babe, you’re going to look so good in that dress,” Sasha said to me, holding up one of the cute white numbers I’d picked out for my trip. “Like, seriously, those boys won’t be able to take their eyes off you.”
I sighed, grabbing the dress out of her hand. Maybe I should leave this one at home, I thought, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself as it was. This was already going to be a not-so-happy homecoming for me, and the last thing I needed was the attention of the Varasso brothers.
“I told you, that’s not the plan, Sasha.”
I was on edge, but I couldn’t help it—it’d been years since I’d seen the Varassos, Philly’s biggest and most undetectable mafia family, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the reunion.
“Besides, I’m going there to see my brother and to pay my respects to my grandpa,” I said, the last bit giving me pause. I loved my grandpa with all of my heart, and it pained me that I hadn’t seen him in several years, but I pushed through the pain and continued p
acking. Now wasn’t the time for tears.
Sasha heaved a sigh and scooted closer to me on my queen-sized bed. “Listen, I know that. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get you to feel a little better,” she said, gripping my hand.
She gave it a brief squeeze before returning to her perch on my pink duvet cover, looking cute as ever with her long blonde hair and blue eyes. We could have been twins if it weren’t for my own brown hair, but everyone said we looked related anyway. I gave her outfit a once-over, straightening her perfect blouse, before winking at her.
“I do know how to dress you and me, it’s true,” I said, trying to break the tension a little.
“You’re not the number one fashion buyer in L.A. for no reason,” she said, smoothing out her hair.
“And you’re not the best dressed A-lister on the red carpet for no reason.” I winked at her again, smiling a little.
Sasha had been my best friend since college when I’d moved across the country to get away from the very people I was going to see in only a few short hours. She was also one of Hollywood’s fastest-growing movie stars under thirty, and we’d been inseparable since that first night we’d met watching the school’s performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That night, she knew she wanted to study acting, and I knew I wanted to be in fashion. The performers’ killer costumes had completely done it for me, and I hadn’t looked back since.
Still, feelings of fear and dread filled me as I continued to pack while Sasha updated her Instagram. The black dress I folded into my suitcase matched my mood aptly—somber yet fashionable, as always. The Varasso family was the whole reason I’d decided to move to L.A. in the first place. I thought back about the night my father was arrested. He’d been an integral part of the Varasso’s well-oiled machine. We weren’t exactly family, but we were as close as someone outside of the clan could get. I’d spent all my time with the brothers growing up, and we’d grown close. That is until my dad was arrested, and I learned what he was really doing for the family. The police had offered him a deal—give up the names of his employers, and they’d free him, or he could rot in jail. Little did I know, it was their plan all along to put him in jail. My own father had chosen the Varassos over his actual family, and for that, I’d never forgiven him. He could stay in prison for all I cared.
My grandfather’s death did pose a few problems, though, namely, Allesandro Varasso. We hadn’t parted on the best terms. My brain liked to play a fun game where it would randomly remind me of the feeling of his fingers laced in mine, or the soft caress of his lips. My heart yearned for it, even though it wasn’t good for me. It’d been the love of a lifetime, and I hadn’t been with anyone since. He was so much a part of the mafia lifestyle that it’d eventually driven a wedge between us after my father was imprisoned. I grew to hate the family, even Alessandro, and we’d broken things off when I told him it was either them or me. He’d chosen what I’d already known he would; blood runs thicker than water, especially for a Varasso.
“So, you’re going to see this mysterious Alessandro you always talk about,” Sasha said, pulling me from my revelry. When I didn’t respond, she continued, “A mafia prince. Is it anything like the movies?”
I snorted, closing my suitcase. “It’s worse,” I said. “They’re killers, Sasha, and fiercely loyal, which means they probably won’t be too happy to see me after I left.”
“But Alessandro will be happy to see you,” she said hopefully.
I raised a brow and shrugged. “I doubt it. Hopefully, he won’t even notice I’m there. I missed his father’s funeral last year anyway. He probably wants me dead,” I said, only half-joking. “Besides, I’m going to be spending all of my time with Ricky.”
Ricky was my twin brother and a thriving defense attorney in Philly, at least, he would be if he wasn’t dedicated to being the Varasso’s personal lawyer. He was still living with my mom, something he claimed he was doing to keep her company and not for him, but I knew the truth. They led a comfortable, healthy life, and the only thing I was even mildly grateful to the Varassos for was continuing to fund my family’s luxurious lifestyle. They owed my father a life debt, after all, and they paid out their noses for it through my mom’s lavish spending. Still, it wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it. I was, however, proud of myself for getting away from them and out from under their thumb. I’d made a nice name for myself in L.A., and I didn’t intend to ever go back.
“Tell the kid I say hi,” Sasha said before scooting off the bed. She walked over to the full-length mirror in my room and took a selfie, posing like the most expert of celebrities.
I walked over to her and posed with her for one, watching as she added it to her Instagram story. I continued to pull the image up several times for comfort over the next day as I trudged through the airport to catch my flight back to Philly. Any time I passed an exit or even a window that I felt like I could successfully jump through, I considered leaving and not going back to Philly. If it weren’t for my brother’s near incessant texts, telling me how much he missed me and couldn’t wait to see me, I probably would have leaned into my better judgment. I loved my family dearly, but there was nothing for me in Philly, and it didn’t take a psychic to know that going back, even if only for a few days, was going to bring me nothing but trouble. Through my flight and even as I walked through the familiar PHL airport, I wished that the world would open up and swallow me whole.
“Willow!”
I turned in the direction of the overjoyed voice that beckoned me almost as soon as I stepped out of the airport. My eyes sifted through the crowd until they landed on Ricky. He was waving excitedly and nearly glowing. He’d beefed up since the last time I saw him. He now stood just over six feet, and the new lifting regimen he was always going on about had done its work.
“Hey!” he shouted.
I couldn’t stop myself from rushing toward him. I loved that little, or now large, kid. We’d always been close. I wished every single day that I could protect him from the Varassos, but he was committed to being involved with them, like my dad.
I threw myself into a huge hug, and he lifted me off the ground. He smelled of wood chips and cologne that was probably cheaper than what he could afford. It was comforting and made me slightly less upset to be home.
“Aw. I missed you!” The words left my lips without my command.
“I missed you, too.” He set me down. “You look great. L.A. has been good to you.”
“It’s an amazing city, Ricky. You’d love it.” Ricky grabbed my bags and started to approach a luxurious, army-green Ford Expedition. “Whoa. Is this your car?”
Ricky chuckled. “Yeah. My law school graduation present from Mom.”
Translation, a graduation present from the Varassos.
“Wow,” I said. “I certainly never got anything this nice.”
Ricky scoffed. “Yeah, because you refused to accept anything from her. Whose fault is that?” He loaded my bag into the truck and rushed back to the passenger’s side door to open it for me.
I walked over and stood in the opening. “I don’t—”
“I know, I know. You don’t accept anything from the Varassos, I get it.” He kissed on my cheek. “In you go.”
I climbed into the car and had to admit I was impressed. From the high-tech LED panel that sat in the center console to the glowing neon green lights that underlit the lining of the interior, it was a gorgeous car, all decked out in Ricky’s favorite color. I suppose my mom could be a mom when she wanted to. Ricky made his way over to and slid into the driver’s side, and then we were off. He expertly navigated through the menus on the screen until he got to a selection of music, but he didn’t blast it, which let me know I wasn’t getting through the car ride without some uncomfy questions.
“Mom’s excited to see you,” Ricky started.
“Yeah. It’ll be nice to see her.” It wasn’t entirely the truth. I loved my mom, but ever since my dad went to prison, she stopped being the mother I knew. �
��How’s she doing?”
Ricky shrugged. “You know mom. She’s a mess. Her latest buying habit is birds.”
I looked over at him with wide eyes. “Birds? Like living, winged creatures?”
Ricky nodded. “Yes. Stupid expensive. These really rare, exotic ones. She has a fucking toucan.”
My jaw dropped. “The Fruit Loops bird?”
“That’s exactly what I said!” Ricky laughed, and when his laugh faded, so did all joy in his face. “You know, she doesn’t know herself anymore. If she isn’t spending money, she doesn’t know what to do.”
I thought of my mother, who used to love to garden and sew and read. Even though my family had been supported by the Varassos for most of my life, she was a whole person before my dad met them. She had hobbies, interests, and even a dream of becoming a professional writer. When my dad started bringing in six figures, she slowly started to change into this trophy wife, and then when he went to prison, and she started getting the Varassos’ weekly anti-snitch stimulus checks, she turned into a woman who only knew how to be rich. Vila Moretti didn’t exist anymore, only the Varasso’s lap dog.
Ricky put a hand on my head. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have brought it up. I guess you’ll see for yourself.”
“No, thanks for the heads up. The fewer surprises I have during this trip, the better.”
“Then I guess I should also mention that Angelo died. Last year. A hit.”
I nodded. I wasn’t a monster, even if my trust in almost anyone was paper-thin. I kept tabs on the people who took care of my mother and brother, if for no reason other than to make sure my own family was safe. “Yeah, I heard. I suppose the boys are probably pretty upset with me. I didn’t reach out to any of them to pay my respects. I thought about sending flowers to the funeral, but I figured it was best to stay gone.”