Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
As if I’d somehow manifested her with the direction of my thoughts, I could see a taxi door flinging open, and my mom rushing outward, her gaze on the steps, searching, then finding me.
With a gasp I couldn’t hear from so far away, just seeing her lips part, she ran forward, flying up the stairs, then throwing herself into my arms.
I barely got a chance to put mine around her before a loud sob escaped her.
“Oh, my sweet boy,” she cried into my chest.
No one would ever call me sweet, save for her. I hadn’t even given her much reason to call me that recently. But that was the thing with moms, I guess. Even when you didn’t give them a single reason to do so, they still loved you.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” I told her, meaning it, even if it was hard to admit.
What can I say? My old man had done a lot of damage to my emotional development before she’d come into our lives. Some of it seemed permanent, regardless of how hard she worked to fix me.
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” she said, squeezing me with everything in her. She was a petite and thin woman, but she had a lot of strength in her right then. “I understand why you did it. But you won’t ever do that to me again, understand?” she asked, sniffling.
Ma, she was a cryer.
Cried over everything.
Mother’s Day cards, Christmas commercials, the news. You name it, she was crying.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped back.
“Oh, let me look at you,” she said, as if she hadn’t seen me on the news for the past few weeks. “You’re thin,” she decided.
I was pretty sure she would say that even if I’d packed on twenty pounds since the last time I’d seen her. Italian moms. It seemed like they had something encoded in their DNA to make them think their loved ones were all too skinny, and in desperate need fatteneing up with their cooking.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Dunno,” I admitted, shaking my head. “Got a lot of shit to do,” I added.
She was good enough not to remind me that the only reason I had all this shit to do was because I’d completely shirked all my responsibilities both to the business and to the family since I was first arrested.
“Of course,” she agreed, patting my chest. “But I would like to see you at my table soon,” she said, hope clear in her blue eyes.
She’d been too pretty for my father. Both inside and out. Short, thin, with wrists that broke really easily. I knew that because my old man had broken each of them at least once. The memory of coming home to that, even all these years later, set my teeth on edge.
She had a rounded face with dominant blue eyes that seemed out of place with her olive skin and black hair. Even all these years later, she was pretty as ever.
I figured the only reason she didn’t date wasn’t because of a lack of suitors, but because my old man fucked with her idea of all men.
“I’ll be there. Just can’t say when yet,” I assured her.
“Good. Good. I’ll make all your favorites. Your brother would love to see you too,” she said. I couldn’t catch the snort before it escaped me.
Hearing it, she sighed.
“You two,” she said, shaking her head sadly.
“Want me to catch you another cab?” I asked, nodding toward the street.
“What? Oh, no. I actually have a lunch date with Primo and Isabella and Emilio and Avery.”
“Who’s Avery?” I asked, brows pinching.
“Emilio’s girl.”
“Emilio’s girl,” I repeated. Emilio? I didn’t see him settling down.
“Yeah, you know, Frank Lombardi’s step-daughter.”
Lombardi?
The fuck had I missed?
Emilio was shacked up with the daughter of an enemy Family? How the fuck had that happened?
“Right. Yeah,” I said, nodding, not wanting to get into it right then.
I had to go get my ass chewed out by Lorenzo.
I could deal with Family gossip some other time.
“Have a good lunch, Ma. I will check in with you later,” I said.
She reached upward, pressing her cold hand to my cheek.
“Go eat your crow,” she said, giving me a pat, then turning to walk away.
The sound that escaped me as I watched her go was more of a growl than a sigh, but I finally started moving. Not toward a cab directed at Lorenzo’s place. But just down the street. Enjoying the ability to walk like everyone else for the first time in months.
I grabbed a coffee. With a few shots. Because I knew I was going to need it. Then set off in the direction of Lorenzo’s house.
“The fuck happened now?” I asked as I rounded the wrought iron gate on the side of Lorenzo’s front stoop, and finding Anthony standing there, a bandage on his throat.