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She pushed against my chest, almost kneed me in the groin, then struggled to her feet and turned on the light.
“Alex. What the?—”
“Jesus, Fee!” Laughter bubbled up uncontrollably as I stared into her beautiful face—despite her fierce scowl—hovering above me.
The absurdity of the situation dissolved some of the tension that had been building inside me. “I’ve never been attacked with a bedsheet!”
She glared at me, her green eyes flashing with anger. “What are you doing here, Alex?”
My laughter died down, and I turned serious, the weight of my actions settling back in. “I’m sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have let my frustrations out on you.”
“Or your mother,” Fiona added, folding her arms across her shirt, her voice sharp.
I winced, then nodded, accepting the truth. I’d let my anger, my powerlessness, my ego get the better of me. And I took it out on the two most important women in my life.
Two. Most. Important. Women. In. My. Life.
Fuck.
“It’s just…hard.”
She cocked her head. “What is?”
I narrowed my brows. Our roles were completely reversed. She was the aggressor, pushing me.
And me?
Was I willing to bare my soul? Strong enough to let her see?
Yes. I owed her that much.
“What is so hard, Alex?” Fee said, tapping her foot.
I sighed. “Not to belong.”
She snorted…actually snorted. Here I was, baring my soul, just to have her laughing in my face. A surge of energy swept through me.
“You’re an idiot. You have no idea what not belonging really feels like. Your family loves you, no matter what,” she insisted, her voice softening. “The only one pushing anyone away is you.”
I stared at her—her beautiful scowl, her body clad in only an oversized shirt. Maybe she was right, but something still gnawed at me.
I knew Gabe and Cristo loved me, no matter what. I knew my mother loved all of us; it just wasn’t…
“It’s just…not enough.” My admission hung heavily in the air between us.
“Why is it not enough?” she probed gently.
I sighed, untangled my arms from the bedsheet, and rubbed my hands over my face. Why was the love of my family not enough? What was it that made me so angry, made me feel so out of control?
“Because I’m not a Falcone anymore.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue.
Stupid…and bitter.
Fee sighed, squatted down next to me, then pulled my hands from my face.
The smile on her face was teasing and comforting at the same time. “You, Alessandro, bad-boy king of the Italian Mafia”—she sighed, cupped my cheek—“don’t even need a last name.”
Her eyes stayed locked with mine. Her tone of voice might’ve been teasing, but sincerity shone in her eyes—a sincerity I didn’t expect.
