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I hadn’t seen or talked to Nevio in nine months. I wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been up to in all this time while I’d taken care of Battista like a mother. He’d probably fucked his way through the Italian girls.
I’d never asked Remo. I hadn’t wanted to know. Nevio had decided to extract himself from my life, from Battista’s life, and I had decided to do the same with him as far as my subconscious allowed, because my dreams and nightmares were still filled with him.
And now he was back.
His eyes slanted to me. Something had changed about him. He seemed even taller, more grown up, harder in a sense but also more serious.
I kept on walking, following Battista who made a beeline for the sandpit. I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of his appearance. I didn’t want it to be. I’d worked my hardest to forget him. I knew I’d have to interact with him because of Battista, if Nevio wanted to see his son, which I truly hoped even if part of me dreaded how close that would bring Nevio and me again. Part of me was even scared. What if Nevio had found someone? A nice Italian girl to marry who wanted to raise Battista with her. He wasn’t my son, but he felt like it, and I was terrified of losing him. Few people understood why I’d so easily adapted to a life full of responsibilities at my age, but I’d never been a party girl.
Steps followed me, and I took a deep breath, knowing what was to come. I’d prepared for this moment for months, had replayed what I’d say, but now his sudden appearance threw me off completely.
“Rory, wait.” Nevio’s voice sounded deeper, more adult. How was that possible in less than a year?
Battista had reached the sandpit and played with the sand molds. I turned slowly, keeping my expression neutral. Nevio stopped right in front of me. He had a new scar on his chin, a white line in his otherwise tanned face. He must have spent plenty of time enjoying the south Italian sun.
“You’re back,” I said, sounding surprisingly unemotional. It was a good thing Nevio couldn’t see into my heart, though, because that one was a complete mess.
Nevio’s eyes traveled the length of me. Droplets of water trailed down his face. His shorts clung to his body, accentuating every inch of his abs. “You look even more gorgeous than I dreamed about.”
My heart skipped a beat hearing those words. He’d never said anything like it before. Instead of letting his praise mollify me, I scoffed. “Really? You never once called, and you probably got it on with countless girls, and now that you’re back, you want me to believe that you dreamed about me? I’m sorry, maybe past Aurora was this stupid, but I’m not, and I’m not going back to being like her.”
Nevio nodded and took a step closer. “I never lied to you, Rory. And I won’t start now. If I tell you I dreamed about you every fucking night, then that’s the absolute truth.” His voice had a slight growl to it that sent a shiver through my body. It reminded me of past encounters that a part of me desperately wanted to relive, but I wouldn’t let that part of me win this time.
“And about me fucking countless girls…You are the last girl I fucked, and if I get my will, you’ll remain the last girl until I die.”
I didn’t allow his words, words I’d so desperately wanted to hear a year ago, weaken my resolve. “So you intend to stay abstinent for the rest of your life?” I congratulated myself silently at how tough and sarcastic I sounded. A quick glance at Battista showed that he was so immersed in his sand play that he didn’t pay attention to us. He didn’t recognize Nevio, that much was clear.
One corner of Nevio’s mouth pulled up in a sly grin, and he chuckled. “I guess I deserve that.”
“Oh no, you deserve far worse for the shit you’ve put me and, worse, Battista through. And I wasn’t joking. I won’t sleep with you. It caused a mess last time, and it’ll cause a mess again. I don’t want that. I don’tneedthat in my life.”
His eyes flickered with bitterness. “Oh, Rory, I know you don’t need me or the fucking mess I was and probably still am in some ways. You’re tough as steel the way you took care of Battista. The way you handled everything. But you know what?” Nevio leaned down so we were almost at eye level. I tensed, ready to shove him away if he tried to kiss me. He didn’t.
“I need you. I want you. And I will stop at nothing until I get you. Until I’ve proven to you that I deserve you. At absolutely nothing.”
His eyes darted to Battista. “And I’ll prove that I can be a good father for my son too.”
“What makes you think I’m still available? You were gone for a year. What if I moved on and am dating someone?”
Nevio shook his head. “You want to get me out of your head, but I’m still in there. I can see it in your eyes. And I know you wouldn’t have moved on to someone else so quickly, especially not when you had Battista to take care of.”
I glared. He was right. I hadn’t had time, or the mind frame, to see anyone. Battista, my work at the Camorra hospital where I’d started to learn everything I needed to work as a nurse, and Carlotta’s health problems had kept me busy. “You probably had Massimo and Alessio give you updates about my love life anyway, so you could fly in and ruin it if you felt like it.”
“I’m not a good guy. I’m a very, very bad guy, trying to be a slightly less bad version of myself. Letting the girl that I want more than anything in the world see other guys isn’t part of my self-improvement strategy, I’m afraid. So yes, if I’d found out a guy would have made a move on you, I would have made sure he regretted it.”
I wasn’t really surprised. I wasn’t even as annoyed as I should have been. Part of me loved Nevio exactly for that reason, no matter how crazy it sounded. Maybe it was in my genes. Mom had fallen for Dad, even though she hadn’t even grown up in the mafia world, even though she’d known he was bad news and even after he’d killed her father. Falling for bad men seemed my fate. Could you evade fate?
“Battista wants to play in the sand for a bit. I can bring him over once you’ve changed into dry clothes so you can spend some time with him, if that’s part of your self-improvement strategy?” I cocked an eyebrow like he liked to do.
Aside from my anger for how he’d treated me, I was even more furious for how he’d just abandoned Battista, his own son, when he needed him most. I wasn’t sure how he ever wanted to make up for it. Battista was still young, not even two years old, so maybe he’d eventually forget that his father had missed so much of his early life.
“I’m going to step up now, Rory. I’m not going to half ass it again. I’m here to stay, here to take responsibility for my son, for you.”
“You don’t have any responsibility when it comes to me, Nevio. We’re not a couple. You left. You moved on.” I smiled tensely. “But I’m glad you decided to finally be a father for your son. He deserves a good father.”
Battista briefly looked up from the sand, probably because of my tense voice, but after a smile from me, he focused on the sand castle in front of him.
“From what I hear, he has a good mom already,” he said, his dark eyes softening.
