by Bethany-Kris
“Don’t,” Gian murmured, stepping out of Elena’s reach.
“So touchy, Gian.”
“I wonder why, Elena.”
“You’re no fun tonight.”
With her, he was never fun.
“If you want something, then ask for it. Don’t, however, try to manipulate me into giving you something by pretending to be nice or that you give a shit. You don’t. I don’t. It’s that simple.”
Elena shot him a look. “Fine, whatever. Shiny and pretty things, people to sing me happy birthday, the usual.”
Gian nodded. “It’ll be done.”
“Out somewhere, too. Not here.”
“Pick a place.”
Elena was the one to walk past him that time. Her smile was serene and her sarcasm oozed as she spoke over her dainty shoulder. “You’re too good to me, Gian.”
As he should be.
As he had to be.
Because she was his wife.
Little else had to matter, apparently. Certainly not his feelings. Those disgusting fucking things were meant for weaker men, and Gian had no time for weakness. The only time he did indulge his feelings were when it came to a certain woman that was out of his reach.
“Well, are you coming to eat supper, or are you going to stand there in the entryway all night?” Elena asked.
“Did you cook it?”
“God, no.”
“Then yes, I’ll eat,” Gian said.
He didn’t even trust his wife not to try and kill him with food, honestly.
This was how their life was lived, now that they had to be together in some shape or form. Carefully, circling around each other with the occasional sharp word quick to show itself and cut the other person standing too close. Maybe it was easier for them both this way.
If they stuck to what was, they would not dig too deep into what had been.
Neither of them wanted that mess brought up.
Not again, anyhow.
The priest waved his hands upward in a sweeping motion to the parishioners, and everyone stood at the same time to be blessed a final time. Gian was grateful—it was almost over.
And by it, he meant his time with his wife for a couple of days.
Church was meant to be one of his peaceful times, but even that was becoming tainted by the fact that he now sat in a pew with his wife, instead of with his family like he once had. Appearances were everything, after all.
Some needed to be kept happier than others, in that regard.
“Finally,” Elena grumbled under her breath as the priest dismissed the congregation. She stood, brushing down the skirt of her cream-colored, knee-length dress that matched her shoes and hat. “Mass never ends. I hate it.”
And yet, she was one of the best dressed in the entire congregation.
“Church is good for the soul,” Gian replied tiredly.
“People like us have no souls, Gian. This is nothing more than a farce, and if there is a heaven, we will only be allowed entrance because we paid our way in.”
Touché.
“Chris can drive you home,” Gian told his wife as he picked up his aviator sunglasses from the pew. “I have things to do today.”
Elena pursed her lips. “I’m sure.”
She didn’t push him or argue his demands, though. Chris would be waiting outside to return Elena to the mansion, and she had another driver on speed dial to take her wherever in the hell she wanted during the week. She had a license and could drive perfectly well, but she preferred to be chauffeured about like a queen.
Gian didn’t give a shit, as long as it wasn’t him doing the driving.
It wasn’t long after Elena was gone down the aisle that Dom slid in beside his brother in the pew. Gian allowed a few more people to head down the aisle, opting to stay behind with Dom to get his weekly update.
It always fucking hurt.
It sucked like nothing else.
Gian did it to punish himself, surely.
It still helped him to breathe.
“Well?” Gian asked.
Dom sipped from a to-go cup of coffee like he had all the time in the world. “Nothing new, really. Cara’s been pretty quiet the last week. She’s still working at that women’s shelter over on the Fifth.”
“Carolina’s House,” Gian said, naming the shelter.
He knew it, because he’d donated to it often over the years, given his family’s history with the place.
Cara didn’t know that, though.
She didn’t know Gian watched her at all.
Dom nodded. “Still there. She’ll be back in school next month, probably. I’m not sure about the shelter after that.”
Knowing Cara, and what she wanted to do with her life, if the shelter allowed her a position while she remained in university, she would take it in a heartbeat. Gian hoped they gave her the chance. Dreams were worth following, after all.
“That’s about all I have to tell on that side of things,” Dom noted.
“Nothing else?” Gian asked.
Dom gave his brother a side-long look. “She’s not been out with anybody, you know. And you could just outright ask that, instead of posing it like it’s something else. I don’t think she’s even got time for a man, Gian.”
He doubted that. Cara had time, if she wanted to make it. For whatever reason, she just hadn’t made the time.
Yet.
Jealousy burned hot and heavy in his gut at the thought. Gian ignored the reckless, violent emotion, because what in the hell else could he do?
He couldn’t force his wants upon Cara.
Hadn’t he already hurt her enough?
“You could go see her,” Dom suggested.
Gian scoffed. “Our last encounter did not end well. I doubt me showing up would go over spectacularly, either.”
“Then why not leave her alone, man?” Dom nodded down the aisle where Elena had disappeared to. Most of the people had also cleared out of the church. “You do have a wife, Gian. Focus there, maybe.”
“Right, my wife.”
Fuck that.
Gian decided their conversation was going nowhere, and turned around to leave, only to come face to face with his father and mother. Frederic and Celeste made no attempt to hide the fact they had been standing there eavesdropping on the brothers’ conversation.
“Do you have something you would like to add?” Gian asked his scowling father.
Frederic had no qualms about sharing his opinions with Gian, especially regarding his unconventional marriage, and the affair his son had had with Cara for months.
“Your brother has a point,” Frederic said. “Don’t go getting yourself caught up into another mess with the Rossi girl. Not now, Gian. You have better things to focus your time and energy on, and Elena is just one of those things.”
“Or you could mind your fucking business.”
“Gian!” his mother said, horrified and glancing toward the pulpit.
Gian wasn’t in the mood to tone down his attitude for the sake of sensibilities. “I said what I said, Ma. I meant it.”
“You married your wife,” his father said, paying no attention to his wife or what his son had told him. “You chose to marry that girl, and now you have to live with it.”
“I never got a choice, actually. I was given the illusion of a choice, which you’re aware.” Gian slid on his aviator sunglasses, and pushed past his father to head down the aisle. “It still makes no difference to what I told you. Mind your fucking business.”
There was something about the city of Toronto in the summer that Cara Rossi loved. People seemed happier in the summer.
It was definitely not Chicago.
Speaking of Chicago …
“Seems my sister is so busy, she can’t even be bothered to phone me on a regular basis,” Tommas said the moment Cara picked up her brother’s call.
“I don’t even get a hello, huh?”
“Do you think you deserve one?”
“I think I’
m your only living sister, so a hello would be nice.”
“Hello, Cara. Call me more often, please. I like to know you’re still alive and kicking. Without having to call to ask if you are. Okay?”
Cara rolled her eyes upward. “I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while; I have been busy, regardless of what you think.”
“Do tell.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What has you so busy that you can’t afford a five-minute phone call?” her brother asked.
“You’re such a nosy little shit. I think you get that from your wife.”
Tommas snorted. “Believe me, out of the two of us, it is me who is the nosiest. Abriella gets all the dirty details from me.”
“I bet.”
“I worry about you, Cara. That’s all.”
She slowed a bit in her walk to allow an older couple to go ahead of her. “You don’t need to be worried about me at all. How was the wedding?”
“That was a month ago.”
“I did call to congratulate you. You were gone. I left a message on the house phone.”
“I have a cell phone, too.”
“Which you turned off for days,” Cara argued.
Tommas grunted under his breath. “Fine, my bad. I’m shit at keeping in touch, too. I get it.”
“So, the wedding?”
“It was wonderful,” Tommas said. “I waited a long time for that day.”
Cara smiled. “Good, Tommy.”
“We headed to New York after the wedding, and then took a trip to Italy for a bit. It took us a good two weeks after we got home to settle back into a routine. That, and Abriella had to find a new doctor that she liked and we had appointments for that to catch up on.”
“A doctor, for what?”
Tommas cleared his throat. “So, we might have found out some good news the morning we got married.”
“Like?”
“Like Abriella is pregnant,” Tommas said quietly.
Cara came to a full stop on the city sidewalk, and people blew on past her like nothing was amiss. “What?”
“We haven’t told a lot of people, but it won’t be long before the news starts to travel. I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
“Congratulations, Tommas. You’re going to be a great dad.” Then, Cara thought to add, “I don’t talk to anyone from Chicago who would tell me, so no worries there.”
“Word still has a way of getting around,” Tommas said. “Which happens to be part of the reason I am calling you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I should have called the week after the wedding, when something got brought up in New York, but with Abriella and the honeymoon—”
“I don’t need details on that,” Cara jumped in fast.
Tommas laughed. “Relax, that’s not what I’m talking about. I just meant to say my mind was elsewhere for a bit but now that I’m back home and shit is settled, I figured it was time to call.”
“Again, not understanding, Tommy.”
“Is something happening up there in Ontario that I might need to be aware of?” Tommas asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“You visit Aunt Daniele and Uncle Claud.”
“Yes.”
“And nothing seems off in the family business?”
Cara sighed. “Tommas, you know I don’t stick my nose in the mafia side of the family business. I stay far the hell away from it, and for good reason.”
For one, because her twin sister had been killed by the mob. For two, because the last person she did get involved with, who happened to be mixed up with that, tore her fucking heart out and might as well have laughed about it.
She was not making that mistake again.
“Yes, but—”
“Tommas, you’re seriously asking the wrong person. I don’t have any idea what’s happening in the Guzzi family. I haven’t ever known, even when I was with Gian. Which by the way, haven’t seen him in three months, and it’ll be a few more before I do, if I can help it.”
“Three months?”
Cara hummed out her confirmation. “I’m not any man’s goomah. I don’t give a fuck who he thinks he is.”
Tommas coughed. “I’m not sure Gian ever thought that’s what you were, either.”
“You don’t know that and besides, he didn’t have to see me as his anything. What he did made everyone else see me in that way. That is bad enough.”
“Point taken,” her brother agreed quickly.
Cara was never going to allow another man to make her blind and stupid to his real life. She didn’t give a shit how good-looking and charming he was on the outside. Gian Guzzi had seriously damaged Cara emotionally and publicly. She loved him—still did, really—but that meant nothing when his lies came into play.
She hoped he was happy with his wife.
Tommas’ voice brought Cara from her thoughts. “But it was strange not to see someone from that family at the New York meeting. Do you remember what I told you three months ago?”
Cara didn’t even have to think about it. “You said if I ever found myself in over my head with anything, all I needed to do was tell you and you would fix it.”
“Good. Nothing’s changed with that, Cara.”
“I got it, Tommy.”
“And call me more, for fuck’s sake.”
The first thing Cara had learned about Carolina’s House was that it had been named after its unintentional founder. Carolina Demaske had taken in over a hundred women during the span of her ninety-four years of life. Women who were old and young, sick and helpless. She had nursed their bruised faces, cleaned their sick bodies, and helped raise their young children without ever asking for a single thing in return.
After Carolina had passed away, her daughters began the foundation that would eventually lead to the women’s shelter Cara stood in front of.
Carolina’s House was quiet when she strolled through the front doors. It wasn’t unusual for a mid-week day. The women’s shelter took in victims of domestic abuse, along with older teenage girls, and young mothers who needed help in various areas of their lives. Some needed the ability to safely get away from their abusive partners. Others needed a place to sleep, and the chance to get on their feet.
Cara had been incredibly lucky to be offered a spot at the shelter as a counselor of sorts. She worked alongside a registered therapist and counselor to help the women get their lives, business, and futures sorted out. Whatever they needed regarding legal things or even just surviving, Cara helped.
Or, she tried.
Cara wanted to be one of those people who helped.
She stopped at the drop-off room—a daycare-like space in the center where two volunteers watched over younger children while the mothers did whatever they needed to do for the day. She dropped off a bag of snacks she knew the kiddos loved. One of her favorite children noticed her presence instantly.
“Cara!”
“Hey, Mikey,” she said, letting the three-year-old boy hug her around the legs. “What are you building today?”
“A train station.”
“A train station, huh? Can I help?”
Mikey nodded enthusiastically. “Momma said she would help when she was done with Miss Jenny, but you can help, too.”
Cara didn’t hesitate to get down on the floor and help Mikey begin the building of what looked to be a huge train station. It was only once the kiddos noticed the treats that she was able to sneak out.
Carolina’s House survived because of volunteers. Amazing men and women who came in with no expectations, only the desire to make life a bit better for someone struggling. People brought food. Some brought items for the babies and kids, or things the women needed. Every little bit helped.
Cara had learned something incredibly important since beginning her co-op program with the shelter. Money could only go so far, and while it could buy a hell of a lot for those in need, sometimes care, love and support helped even more.
&n
bsp; “I hear someone wanted to see me today,” Cara said, leaning in the doorway of her boss’s office.
Jenny smiled from behind her desk. On the other side, Tiffany flipped through documents in a folder.
“You weren’t busy, were you?” Jenny asked. “I know it’s your off day.”
“Nope. Never too busy for this.” Cara slipped into the office, closed the door behind her, and took a seat beside the seventeen-year-old Tiffany. “Mikey is working hard on his train station, by the way.”
At the mention of her son, Tiffany beamed. “I’m trying to save up enough to get him the big Lego set he wants for his birthday. It’s a whole train. He saw it at the store. Killed me to tell him no.”
Cara held back her frown. She had so much, when others had very little.
“When is his birthday?” Cara asked.
“Two months.”
“You’ll get it.”
Cara would make sure of it.
The teenaged mother hadn’t been given an easy life, and Mikey had been one of the final things to send her running from her abusive father. She had hopped from couch to couch with her son, never staying in school, and barely being able to hold down a job. Child Services had eventually caught up to the teen, and sent her home to live with her father.
Tiffany ran away with her son again. The second time, she came to Carolina’s House. So far, Tiffany had gotten a job, and her GED testing was a month away, which Cara had no doubt the girl would ace. Tiffany’s court appearance to be legally emancipated from her father and keep him from trying to take her son away, was in just two weeks.
“So, what’s happening?” Cara asked Jenny.
Jenny nodded to Tiffany. “She had something she wanted to ask, and while I could have done it over the phone, I felt it better she ask directly.”
Cara turned to the teen. “You have my cell number. You know you can call me anytime, right?”
Tiffany nodded. “Yeah, of course.”
“What do you need?”
“I know the House set up a volunteer to take me to and from court, but I was hoping … well, that you might do it, Cara. I know you’re busy, and you start back at university next week, too. But—”
“Absolutely,” Cara interjected quickly.