Total pages in book: 6
Estimated words: 6007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 30(@200wpm)___ 24(@250wpm)___ 20(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 6007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 30(@200wpm)___ 24(@250wpm)___ 20(@300wpm)
I couldn’t finish my thought.
Several hands touched my back and shoulders… messed with my hair.
And then Phoenix’s deep voice rang out. “You promised to visit the trees you planted for her. Wasn’t that something she always teased you about? A Christmas tree farm? I think we should finally go visit them. After all, Frank and Luca have been bothering the shit out of all of us about not seeing all the hard work they’re doing.”
I couldn’t tell if my laughter was out of nervousness or ridiculousness that two crazy retired mob bosses spent their days at a Christmas tree farm, golfing, playing chess, and wine tasting, but life can be stranger than fiction, isn’t that the saying?
Taking a deep breath, I finally truly opened my eyes and stared at the field straight ahead of me. It was so different now.
It had life.
When it used to only remind me of death.
So many trees were scattered around that it was hardly recognizable from that morning she left us.
“Let’s go see the trees.” Throat thick, I started walking.
Toward Andi’s trees.
Because in her death, on that field, staring up at the sky, I wanted to create life.
For her memory.
For mine.
For future generations.
She would live on over and over again.
The point was… Andi would live.
CHAPTER TWO
Val
He was out there. I could see the flashlight and even the way his posture was rigid. He always tried to be so strong, but I often reminded him that it’s okay to be weak. Only in weakness can you find your strength.
I was a firm believer that when you ask for more, you’re given less to teach you how to learn to deal with more. When you ask for strength, you’ll immediately feel weak because how else can you freaking possibly learn to be strong over and over again unless you’ve hit rock bottom?
I remembered watching an Instagram Reel about it once, about how the opposite is sometimes true when you need the other more.
Not because the Universe hates you.
But because it needs to refine you to make you the best version of yourself you could possibly be.
Sergio’s the best of the best. I swear I could tell him that every second of every day, and he would still find at least two things he was a failure at that he needed to work at.
It used to drive me crazy until I realized it was his way of constantly bettering himself, nobody’s perfect, not even the great Sergio Abandonato.
I touched the window with my fingertips. It was the same room she stayed in. I often went there and talked with her. Told her how I was doing, how married life was, motherhood…
All of it.
And during the holidays, it’s like magic came over that room—most holiday nights when I was standing at that window when it was time…
It snowed.
Which I guess wasn’t rare for Chicago.
So maybe I was being hopeful it would snow tonight for Sergio.
For the Christmas farm.
For her.
I could see the lights from the giant building that Luca just had to have on the edge of the property with twinkle lights, a wine bar, and a coffee bar just in case they were out there too long, which they always were during the winter like they were paying homage, or maybe just honoring a life lost.
Rare, I guess, in the mafia, to feel sadness for others doesn’t seem like something that’s possibly even accurate.
But that’s the Five Families.
Every other mafia can suck it because ours is real—it’s blood, it’s true, and it’s based on something that nobody can ever break.
Blood.
Loyalty.
Family.
And no book, no tv show, no movie, would ever be able to hold a candle to what we have, to our truth.
I could have sworn in that moment, watching Sergio look up at the sky with the guys around him, then look back toward the building.
I felt something.
A presence?
Maybe it was my imagination, but it made me smile.
“He’s doing great,” I whispered.
While the wind whispered right back, “So are you.”
I smiled at the window one last time, touched it with my fingertips, leaving tiny little smudge marks on the glass, and looked away.
The moment was too precious for me to witness.
He’d been waiting a long time for it, and so had I, both of us for different reasons, and right now he needed the men around him, and I was okay with waiting, waiting for my husband to come back to the house, waiting for him to kiss me goodnight and make love to me in the morning.
I was his.
And he, while it felt like at one time was given to me—was well and truly mine. I adored him with every inch of my body and soul.
I just needed to prepare myself for whatever sadness would come out of that forest of trees with him.
I would endure it for his sake.