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Our families had seriously been so close. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Elio and Gia grew up mostly in Italy, we might have been part of each other’s lives way before that awful night.
I wonder if it would have changed anything.
“So, what happened that you say he had to grow up fast?”
Gia sighs. “It’s different in the States. I know that you all feel like it’s some kind of lawless empire out there, but truly, you have all kinds of stuff that keeps you protected. Police that can’t be bought, for one.”
“They can be bought,” I add quickly.
Gia shakes her head. “Not like they can here. It’s basically a bidding war, an open market that’s kind of encouraged. On top of that, with our business being what it is, there’s a lot of opportunity for people to get in to hurt the family.”
“What happened?”
Gia’s quiet for a minute, then she looks over at us. “You knew my dad was in a wheelchair, right?”
I nod. Everyone knew, it wasn’t exactly a secret.
“When Elio and I were thirteen, we were on holiday with our parents. In Corsica, of all places. Someone tipped the Russians off that we were there, and they came. Elio grabbed my dad’s gun, after he was already shot, and had to protect us until we could get backup.”
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
Gia shrugs. “It’s part of the deal, isn’t it? Being in this life, doing things the way we do. It’s just part of how it all works.”
Yeah.
I look over at Luna, and ice forms in my heart. She’s already been exposed to danger, just for existing. Just because I am who I am.
And Elio is who he is.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I guess it is.”
“All I’m saying is that I am the way I am for a reason. Elio is the way he is for a reason. You are the way you are, Caterina De Luca, for a reason. All of us are products of our past, and we have to figure out how to handle that in a way that keeps us moving into the future.”
“I guess.”
We don’t talk for a while. I watch Luna sleep, and Gia dozes or plays with her phone. The sun dips toward the horizon, and eventually, Luna wakes up.
She blinks at me. “Mommy, do you want to swim?”
It’s getting a little chilly, so I’m not sure that I do. I shake my head. “It’s time to dry off, baby.”
“But I want to swim,” she whines.
“I haven’t had any swimming time yet,” a deep voice booms across the courtyard.
I turn.
Then, I turn back.
Elio is striding toward us. He’s not wearing the typical Italian man’s swimsuit, opting instead for a more conservative set of trunks.
But Jesus Christ.
It doesn’t matter what you wear. When you’re that hot, everything looks indecent on you.
Luna lights up. “Mr. Mommy’s friend! You want to swim?”
Elio almost smiles. I see it, for one second, before it’s gone.
