by Sam Mariano
I’m sure Sal has made sacrifices too, though.
Our relationship was always going to come at a cost. I assumed I’d be the only one paying, with a broken heart at the end of it all. Then when it became clear he really cared about me, I thought we’d split that cost.
I never thought we’d both betray our families to stay together. But here we are.
I pull up behind the bakery, into the blind spot. It’s not that unusual; I park behind the building most days. Sal pulls in a couple minutes later, and though my heart is still heavy and I feel wretched, seeing him makes me feel a little better. A little less alone.
He must be able to see it’s not easy, because as soon as I get out of the car, he comes around and pulls me into his arms, giving me a tight hug.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures me.
I sniffle, peering at the bakery, and fresh tears spring to my eyes.
I’m going to miss my bakery. I’m going to miss my crazy family. I never thought I would, but I’m going to miss being a Morelli.
I’ve gone too far to change my mind, and as the strong arms of the man I love loosen so he can pull back and look down at me, I know I don’t really want to; I’m just terrified of this change.
“Today’s gonna be a good day,” he promises. Then, shaking his head, he amends, “No, a great day.”
I am not convinced. I hand him my real cell phone and he takes it over to the Dumpster, tossing it in. He comes over to open the passenger side door of his car and I slide right in.
It’s a quiet ride. Sal looks over at me every now and then to check on me, but I don’t want to talk. I lean my head against the window and watch the city disappear. I try not to cry, telling myself it would be ridiculous to cry. I can’t even believe it’s this hard to leave a family I’ve railed against all my life. A family I’ve literally dreamed of being rescued from since I was a little girl.
I don’t think much of the residential neighborhood we’re driving through, of the idyllic little suburban homes with well-manicured lawns and lovingly attended flower beds planted in front of pretty front porches.
Then Sal hits his turn signal and slows down to take a right turn into the driveway of one of them. It’s a perfectly typical home, the kind sitcoms or family-centered TV dramas would show the audience to give them that domestic, middle-America feeling.
“Whose house is this?”
Sal reaches up and clicks a button on his visor. The garage door begins to rise. “Ethan’s.”
I frown. “We’re staying with Ethan?”
“No, he doesn’t live here anymore. This used to be his house, before he and his wife got divorced. He and Willow have an apartment now, the wife used to live here with the kids. Now she’s moved out, and lucky for us, they haven’t sold the place yet.”
Sal pulls into the garage and hits the button again so the garage door goes back down. He looks over and flashes me a smile, then pushes open his door and climbs out.
I feel a little calmer as I follow him to the white door that leads inside. The garage is muggy, but it’s nice and cool as soon as we step inside the hallway. A laundry room is off to the right, painted bright yellow with gleaming white tile and cabinets to match. It’s so domestic and cute I want to die.
We make it to the kitchen next, and it’s a lovely kitchen. It’s a nice size, like Sal’s, not overly large like the one at my house. It’s just the kind of kitchen where I could imagine preparing school lunches in the morning while the little ones eat their breakfast. There’s an island where I would stand, putting sandwiches in baggies and fitting fruit into lunch pails. Sal could stop right there, his hand falling to my waist as he leans in to give me a kiss he wouldn’t dare leave without.
It feels like fate when I see a little vase full of white hydrangeas on the dining room table, but then I realize it wasn’t fate, it was Sal. Obviously he knew we were coming here today, so he must’ve put those there for me.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching down and catching his hand as I nod at the vase.
“If I ever stop bringing you flowers, punch me in the face.”
I can’t help laughing a little, but I turn in his arms, letting my other hand come up to caress his face. “I love this face far too much to ever punch it.”
He smiles, leaning in to kiss me. “I’m pretty partial to yours, too.”
“Oh, are you?” I tease.
“Maybe a little.”
I nod thoughtfully. “I guess not a lot of women can truthfully say they have a man who would wage a literal war for them.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, he gives me a wink. “I’d wage a different war every week if I had to.”
Sighing, I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in to hug him. “I’m so lucky.”
“It’s about time you found some luck,” he states, his arms tightening around my waist as he brings me close.
“You were worth the wait,” I inform him. “I’d wait another 28 years for you if I had to.”
I let go of him and walk over to the sink, looking out the window at the back yard. There’s a back patio with patio furniture. A wooden swing set draws my eye, a trampoline set up off to the side.
Sal walks up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and casually kissing my shoulder. “What are you thinking?”
“I love this place.”
“Yeah?”
I nod.
Lightly tugging me back, he says, “Why don’t we go see the rest?”
I’m already besotted, but I only fall deeper as he takes me through the house. There’s a study—probably a fifth of the size of my brother’s, but I realize I can’t imagine living in a house without a study. There’s no alcohol cart in this one, but hey, I need gift ideas for him anyway.
“You’d need a study,” I decide, nodding my head as we peek inside. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
Sal smirks, shaking his head and taking my hand, leading me down the hall. We check out the cozy living room. There are still nails in the walls where family pictures used to hang, and I find myself running my hand across the wall, twisting a lonely nail.
“How do you leave all this behind?” I ask a bit absently. I’ve only met Ethan the one time, but I can’t even imagine.
“I don’t know,” Sal says, simply. “We don’t really believe in divorce in my family. Obviously my Ma should’ve left my dad a million times over and she never did.”
“Yeah, obviously in my family you love us forever or die trying.”
That’s horrible, but he laughs. I love Sal so much.
“This house needs new memories,” I decide. “This house deserves a happy family to love it.”
Sal rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “You’re adorable.”
We go upstairs next. There’s a mural of a woodland forest painted in what I assume used to be a nursery, with a tree shaped bookshelf at the center of the back wall. The next room was clearly a little boy’s, with dark blue walls and a baseball field painted on the left wall. The third room belonged to a little girl, lilac walls with white carpet. There’s another mural in here, a fairy-esque pond with big-eyed frogs atop lily pads and sparkly butterflies flying over it.
“I love the murals,” I tell him. “I guess we have to have three kids—two boys and a girl.”
“Is this our house now?” he asks, lightly.
I nod my head, only half-joking as we approach the master suite. This one is lovely, all elegant with creams and textured walls. I see the door to the bathroom, but I don’t even need to see anymore—this is my suburban dream house.
“Your sister must be fucking awesome. He had the perfect life. The perfect home. The perfect family. I wouldn’t leave that for literally anything,” I state.
“He didn’t actually leave, he got kicked out. Anyway, it’s not his house anymore; you’ve already decided it’s ours, so I guess it has permanent occupants who know better.”
“Unless island Salvatore tri
es to reappear,” I state, turning around to playfully glare at him. “Have you heard from Vivian lately?”
He rolls his eyes like he’s not amused, but he knows I’m just teasing him. “Island Salvatore drowned. Bastard didn’t know how to swim without hands.”
“What an idiot. Who can’t swim without hands?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
I want to see how comfortable the bed is, so I go over and jump on it. Ooh, soft. Perfect. I roll over on my back, closing my eyes and sighing. “Yep, I’m sold. This is my house now. You’re going to have to tell Ethan he’s not allowed to sell it.”
Sal crawls up on the bed with me, rolling on his back, but turning his head to look over at me. “I can’t believe you’re gonna make me buy that bastard’s house.”
I grin. “You hang out with him sometimes; you can’t hate him that much. And, while I think he’s crazy for ever leaving it, he is letting us hide out in his old house. He has to know he’s taking a big risk doing that.”
“Guy has a hero complex, that’s how he got himself in such deep shit to begin with. He can’t see someone in trouble and not try to fix it.”
“Well, I think you’re lucky to have him,” I tell him.
“I think I’m lucky to have you,” he replies.
Smiling softly, I curl up against Sal and rest my head on his chest. I close my eyes and just soak up the moment. It’s still morning and it’s already been a hard day, but I think Sal’s right. I think it’ll end up being a great one.
Chapter Thirty
“I thought you loved me.”
“Shh, he’s about to save her in his Volvo.”
Sal shakes his head, removing his arm from around my shoulders so he can lean forward and grab a snack. On the coffee table in various bowls, we have an assortment of cereals to snack on. A cereal bar, if you will. We never really eat cereal at my house since we have people to cook for us, but during the course of our relationship, Sal has taught me that dry cereal is the perfect snack to movie watching.
Tonight I’m making him watch Twilight.
“This is the textbook definition of cruelty,” Sal states. “If I ever doubted you were a ruthless Morelli, I couldn’t after this.”
I raise my eyebrows at him, not about to take this sass. “Um, excuse me, could you recall for me how many full seasons of Entourage I sat through? Eight. It was eight. You owe me.”
“I watched that BBC bullshit with you.”
“Not good enough.”
“I want to die. This is so bad.”
I laugh, but it comes out as more of a gleeful cackle. He grabs a bowl of Froot Loops and hands it to me, then grabs some Corn Pops for himself and settles back against the couch.
“At least you have good snacks,” I point out.
“The cereal shouldn’t have to endure this,” he states. “Cereal deserves better.”
“Maybe cereal will better appreciate New Moon,” I suggest innocently. “We’re watching that next.”
“I don’t understand what I’ve done to warrant such hostility,” Sal says before popping some cereal into his mouth.
He gives it about ten more minutes, then he gives up on his snack and starts running his fingers over the exposed inside of my thigh. Stupid sleep shirt, giving him ideas.
“I will not be seduced,” I declare. “Not until this movie is over.”
“You have to admit, sex would be more fun than this movie.”
“That could be said of most movies.”
“Most?”
I grin at him, popping some sugary loops in my mouth.
“All movies. Sex is better than all movies.”
I shrug, grimacing. “I haven’t seen all the movies in the world. I’m not comfortable making such a blanket statement.”
Sal shakes his head, pushing up off the seat.
“Wait, where are you going?” I ask, grabbing for the remote. “I’ll pause it.”
“I’m going to wash the Corn Pops off my hands, then I’m going to take you into my new study, put your little ass on the desk, and fuck you until you take that back.”
I want to object and demand he watch the movie with me, but… well, that sounds like fun.
He frowns, pulling his phone out of his pocket. I see it’s all lit up, like someone’s calling. “Aw, shit,” he mutters, answering the phone and ducking out of the room.
I do pause the movie, but now because I’m worried.
Impatience drives me to abandon the couch and follow after him. He went down the hall toward the study, but I can still hear the sound of his voice.
Before I can catch anything, he slips into the study and closes the door. Now I can’t hear a damn thing.
He stays in there forever. I remain outside the door in the hall, waiting and waiting and waiting. The longer he’s inside, the more I worry. I slide down the wall and sit in the brightly lit hall with the butter yellow walls, hugging my knees close.
The door finally opens and Sal emerges, stopping short when he sees me sitting in the hall by the door. He cocks his head to the side, then asks, “You hear any of that?”
I shake my head. “Couldn’t hear a single word.”
His eyebrows rise and he glances back at the door appraisingly, nodding his approval. After a couple of seconds, he backs up against the wall and sits down next to me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
Even though he had all that time in the study by himself, he still doesn’t appear to know what he wants to say to me. My stomach is sick with dread, but I don’t even know what I’m most afraid of. If Mateo found us, there wouldn’t have been a warning call. Adrian would’ve shown up at the front door at best, maybe popped up inside the house without even that much warning. The only forewarning might’ve been the muffled sound of his bullet jetting across the room before it hit Sal and obliterated my life.
Sal reaches over and takes my hand, linking his fingers together with mine. I feel only slightly calmer. “There was an attempt on Mateo’s life tonight.”
My anxious heart drops. “What?” Now I pull my hand away from his, prior doubts coming to the forefront of my mind. “You told me no one was planning to—”
“I said as far as I knew,” he corrects, watching me intently. He reaches over and takes my hand again, a bit pointedly. “I didn’t know, Francesca. My dad did this on his own. He didn’t even go through the proper channels, it was—he sent his own guy, the one who was with him when he dispatched Meg.”
“Is Mateo okay? What happened? Did he get hit?”
Sal shakes his head, passing a hand over his face and sighing. “No. He was out with Meg. She recognized Little John from before and pushed Mateo out of the way. She was hit instead.”
Guilt freezes the blood as it travels through my veins. “What?”
“Your brother’s fine.”
“And Meg?”
He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head. “I don’t know. She’s alive. He rushed her to the hospital. I don’t know anything else.”
I lean my head back against the wall, trying to digest all this. Sal’s dad tried to kill Mateo tonight, even though Sal told me that wasn’t the plan. It didn’t make sense to me that wouldn’t have been the plan, so how could it have made sense to Sal? Is he lying to me, or did he just try that hard to believe his dad because it was what he wanted? I can’t say I’ve never done that myself. I’ve looked past Mateo’s misdeeds more times than I can count, but Sal seems more grounded in reality and less likely to turn a blind eye. Unless it was an intentional blind eye. Unless he does want my brother dead, and he just doesn’t want me to know that. Of course he wouldn’t want me to know that—he knows I would try to talk him out of it.
But if they’re going to be on opposing sides, it makes sense that Sal will need Mateo out of the way. If Sal fails to take Mateo out of the way, Mateo will take Sal out of the way.
It never ends, does it? It never ends until somebody I love dies.
Shaking m
y head, I push up off the floor. Sal gets up to follow me, but I don’t want to be followed. I want to be by myself.
“Francesca…” He catches up and tries to take my hand again, but I yank it away.
“I’m going upstairs.”
“I’ll just follow you,” he states. “I mean, we can change locations if that’s what you want, but…”
I huff, but I storm up the stairs anyway. He follows.
Once we get inside the bedroom, he closes the door and leans against it, looking at me with his solemn gray eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Still guarded, I meet his gaze, wrapping my arms around my own waist. “For what?”
“For what happened tonight,” he says, carefully. “I did not have a hand in it, but I’m sorry it happened.”
“Is it going to happen again?” I ask, but I don’t even give him time to lie to me. “They’ve already shown their hand, they’ve already tried and failed to kill him, now they have to try again, right? Now they have to try harder. Now they have to try to hit him before he hits back.”
Sal’s head falls back, thumping against the door as he sighs. “Please, Francesca. We can talk about anything else, but not this. We have to leave this stuff out of our relationship.”
“But how?” I demand. “It’s my family. It’s your family. People we love. People who matter to each of us. They are a part of us. What happens between our families will affect our relationship. It’s insane to pretend otherwise.”
“You told me your loyalty was mine,” he reminds me.
“And I’m here, aren’t I?” My eyebrows rise. “Did I not help you plot against my own brother? Did I not help you frame the woman he’s in a relationship with to make him think his least favorite moment in history was repeating itself? Did I not leave everything behind to come with you? What have you had to give up, Sal? Who have you really had to betray? Not your family—they just tried to kill my goddamn brother, so obviously they’re operating just fucking fine. Your dad knows about me—my brother’s still in the fucking dark. This is impossible. What we are trying to do is impossible. I can’t go that far. I can leave my family for the competition, but not the people out for my brother’s blood. I can’t hide away in domestic paradise while your family picks off mine. Fuck that.”