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“I have some, but I just don’t display them. You know why.”
“What I know is that we’re more alike than you might think.”
“Both hurting from something in our pasts.” I was fishing but as soon as I saw the expression on his face, I knew I was right.
He bristled, pushing his cup of ice cream aside. “Who doesn’t have a past, little peach? You know about mine.”
“And you know about mine.” I took another bite, grabbing a handful of napkins and wiping the little man’s face. I was happy to see his smiling face. Dillon was jabbering to himself in the little language he’d developed, completely content. He was also making a mess. “You’re supposed to eat the ice cream, not wear it.” As I wiped a glob off his cheek, I knew I’d made a face before grabbing a napkin.
Sabatino laughed and there was something so fatherly about the way he grabbed a handful of napkins himself, helping me clean the goo from my baby’s face. “It’s more fun though when you get it all over yourself. Isn’t it, little man?”
I allowed him to finish, marveling at how good he was with my son. I’d chastised him for calling my son by the nickname I’d given Dillon years before. Now I found it endearing. The night before had meant something to me, more so than I’d believed until right about now.
Dillon shook his head repeatedly, although I doubted that he had any clue what Sabatino was talking about. It didn’t matter. My beautiful boy was having the time of his life while I was still on pins and needles. I also had a feeling he’d learned something dreadful about Rico, which kept a strangled hold around my throat.
“You’re so good with him,” I said before taking another lick of my cone. “Have you ever wanted to be a father?”
The instant I asked the question, I knew it was a bad thing to do. I also didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
He stiffened even more but almost immediately he softened. “I’m not good father material, Georgia. It’s not a good idea in my world. I’m certain that’s something you can understand.”
“How sad for you. Not to have someone in your life. Or did you before?”
“It’s not something I talk about.”
“Maybe you need to.”
“As I mentioned, we both have difficult pasts that have shaped us. Sometimes, it’s better to leave everything that happened exactly where it should be, in a locked box.”
“And sometimes facing the hardship of what shaped us is the only way of finding a way to live through the trauma. Did you ever think about that?”
He stared at me for what seemed like several minutes, never blinking. I sensed he was fuming but to his credit, he took a deep breath, reaching over and running his fingers through Dillon’s hair in a loving gesture. “Family means everything. That’s something I do understand whether or not you believe me. However, we should go. It’s getting late.”
There was no talking to the man, the subject completely off limits. He was already antsy, grabbing some of the napkins, easily tossing them into the trashcan. There was an odd look on his face as if my question had unearthed something horrible from his past. “Come on, buddy. We need to get you cleaned up.”
There were so many questions in the back of my mind, things I wanted to ask him, but I sensed he wasn’t open to any of them. I started to get up and he stopped me.
“Hold on. You’re right that you deserve an explanation.”
I sat down once again, saddened from the haunted look on his face. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I care about you, Georgia. I don’t fall into the bullshit about how could I adore someone I don’t know. The truth is that the bout of amnesia allowed me to break a thick barrier I’d placed around myself for years. Doing so turned me into a monster.”
“I care about you too, Sabatino. I’ve told myself a million times I shouldn’t but there’s no denying what we shared. You can tell me anything and I won’t judge you.” I meant what I said and seeing the strange look of relief on his face humbled me.
Tick. Tock.
Endless seconds ticked by.
“I was married for almost three years to a beautiful woman I hadn’t anticipated meeting. It was on a business trip and I had little time for anything else. We literally ran into each other at a coffee shop, the girl spilling coffee all over me. Emily brought something into my life I’d been determined not to have.”
I could barely hide the shock. Without thinking, I reached across the table, placing my hand on his arm. “You loved her very much.”
“More than I believed possible.” He stopped, scanning the street in front of us for the tenth time. I turned my head toward it, my instinct telling me this place had something to do with whatever had happened in his past.
“You two used to come here. Didn’t you?”
He nodded. “You’re far too perceptive for your own good. She loved pistachio ice cream. At least she did until she had a miscarriage and was told she couldn’t have any children.”
