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“He can.” I whistled and Max flew through the water to answer my command. I didn’t know if he didn’t like the high temperatures of the summer or he just liked the exercise, but Max was feeling good in the water. He was always the happiest on our trips to the Hamptons.
Romina went to him, hugged his neck, and let herself float while I made Max follow me around, so she could – and I quote – be a mermaid. I didn’t know what kind of mermaid had a dog for a carriage, but I wasn’t going to object. She was happy. I’ve done my job.
Sometime after Enzo was born Gino gave Hugo and me a big speech about how his life changed when he held his son for the first time and I had believed him. Gino had always had his shit together, but he wasn’t the man he is now before finding his place next to Muse.
I’d believed him, yes, but I hadn’t understood completely. Now I do. I’d lived a full life, more than some people would ever have the chance for. Being born in the Nucci famiglia gave me no time to be bored; my childhood was rich, even if my mom and dad did a poor job at being parents. I’d had Simona Nucci – Gino’s mother, Gino, Hugo, and later Catherinelle to fill that void. I’ve played a shit ton of sports in high school and I was good at every one of them, I’ve spent more money than some make in a lifetime, I’ve partied and done drugs – all the drugs, I’ve loved and I’ve lost, I finished law school early and helped my brothers stay out of trouble. I still do because Hugo gets in trouble every other week, which pisses the hell out of his wife. She hates picking him up from the station in the middle of the night. Now all of that seemed small. Insignificant. Romina’s laughter on the other hand was giving me a new sense of purpose. I was a father, God damn it!
“Ok, young lady, back on the chair with you.”
“Why?”
“Your mom’s orders.”
“But she’s not here.” She argued. God, I’m going to make a lawyer out of her.
“I’m not going to bring you back with sun burns or she’ll have my ass.”
We walked back and she giggled.
“You said a bad word.”
“I did? Oh, shit…I mean…don’t repeat that, ok.”
“It sounds funny.”
“It’s not.” Fucking hell, I had to watch myself around her. She was smart enough to memorize every curse word I spit out, and I knew a shit-ton of them. I distracted her with a plastic cup of pineapple juice.
“I like spending time with you, Roman.”
Roman again. Fuck. This is ending right now.
“Romina, what do you know about your dad?”
She flinched. Right under my eyes she flinched and turned small, her radiant face clouded.
“He’s English.”
What the hell? English? What was that supposed to mean?
“Like, from Great Britain?”
“No. He speaks English, like you. He’s not from around here. Aunt Francesca told me to stop looking for him because he’s not from around here. He’s English.”
Ah, aunt Francesca was just a fucking genius, wasn’t she? I’m going to have a talk with her about this shit. Who the hell did she think she was to put these ideas in Romina’s head? And why the hell did Salva let it happen?
“Baby girl, people speak English in many parts of the world.”
“Really, like where?”
“England, America, Canada, Australia, Jamaica, New Zealand, and many others.”
“Oh,” she frowned. “I don’t know where he’s from.”
“From America.” I answered right away without thinking about how she’d take the news.
Romina got up on her knees in the chair and tilted her head at me. The big doe eyes that matched her hair in color were staring back at me wide and curious, and a little hopeful.
“Do you know him, Roman?”
