Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I think about that moment a lot for the rest of the day. She was going to say something else and settled for you care, which is undeniably true. But what else can she see? How obvious have I been?
It’s strange. I came into this marriage thinking I’d stumble through life, sharing a house and an existence with a man I don’t know and don’t like, only to find that I need him around more than I ever pictured I could. He’s a strange, grumpy, brooding prick most of the time, but he lights up whenever I’m around, and that’s addicting. I need that look from him. The smiles, the laughter. Whenever I get a glimpse past his carefully composed neutral stare, it’s like seeing into a lush, verdant world beyond our own. I just keep thinking how I need more.
Until that night I’m getting ready for bed, resigned to another evening of reading and worrying, when the door to the house opens. I jump up and go downstairs, heart racing with worry, when I spot him standing in the kitchen.
He’s leaning against the counter and trying to fill a glass of water with one hand. But it keeps shaking and the water’s spilling out of the side. He’s hunched over, his other hand pressed to his side.
“Davide?” I take a step in his direction. I’m not sure why I’m scared, but something’s wrong. “Are you okay?”
He turns to me and the pain in his expression almost breaks my heart. “There you are,” he says and tries to smile. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Oh my god. You’re hurt.” I run to him. He shakes his head and tries to resist me, but I drag him to the couch and sit him down before I peel off his jacket. There’s no blood, which is good, and he protests the whole time until I get his shirt unbuttoned and suck in a sharp gasp.
His entire side is covered in one big bruise.
“I’m fine,” he says when I leap to my feet and start looking for my phone.
“You need a hospital. There could be internal bleeding. Davide, what happened?”
“I got in a fight.” He grimaces. “You should see the other guys. No, seriously, they’re both dead, but they hit pretty fucking hard. Dolcezza, sit down, I’m okay.”
“You’re so far from okay.” I want to scream at him. I want to break down in heavy, ugly sobs. Why can’t he see how fucked this is? First his father gets shot, and now he comes home looking like someone kicked him in the ribs over and over again. And for all I know, that’s exactly what happened. “I can’t do this, Davide. I can’t see you like this.”
It physically hurts me, knowing he’s out there risking his life every night.
“Baby,” he says quietly. “Sit back down.”
“Not until you get in the car and let me drive you to a hospital.”
He sighs and leans his head back. “No hospitals, but call Elena and tell her what’s going on. She’ll send the doctor over here, okay? Is that good enough?”
I clench my jaw. It’s not good enough. None of this is good enough. But I turn away and find my phone before calling his sister. She doesn’t seem surprised and promises to be over soon.
“Come here,” he says when I’m off the phone. He winces as he draws me closer and drags me down onto the couch next to him, but I can’t make myself relax against his body like I want to.
“I hate this,” I whisper, not looking at him, blinking back tears. It’s so frustrating and pathetic. “You might be fine tonight. You might be fine tomorrow. But how long until I’m a widow? And the fucked-up part is I’m just—” I bite down on my tongue to keep that part inside, because if I say it out loud, it’ll only make both of our lives harder.
Because the fucked-up part is, I’m finally falling in love with him, only for him to start pulling away.
“This is what I have to do,” he says and pulls me against him. I stare toward the far window, refusing to give him what he wants. “Baby, you know it’s true. After what Santoro did to me, and after what he did to my father, I can’t let it go. I have to hurt him. I don’t know how I can wake up and look myself in the mirror if I don’t. I have to be out there.”
“It doesn’t have to be you.” I make a fist and press it into his muscular thigh. “Or at least you don’t have to be the one getting into fights and pulling the trigger. Your family’s been talking and they’re not good at hiding it from me. Everyone says you’re being reckless. Everyone says you’re going too far, like you’re obsessed. What happened to you, Davide? Do you want to get away from me that badly?”