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“Where is she?”
“I’ll take you to her. I think they’re getting ready to wrap up.”
I follow Rafa through the front entrance through to a main room where balloons bounce along the ceilings and streamers decorate the green walls. Patients are gathered, most in pajamas, some in wheelchairs, many eating cake.
Gabriela stands beside her brother at the front of the room. He towers over her, and beside him, she looks so small. I wonder if that’s how she and I look together.
There’s almost no resemblance between them but their affection is visible, even from this distance and I’m glad I brought her here. I’m glad she has this.
She’s holding her hand out and Gabe is looking at something. I wonder if it’s her engagement ring but realize it’s her right hand.
When I take a step toward them, she sees me. At first, it’s surprise I see on her face. She stares at me, eyes wide, face paling a little.
I expected a smile. Relief at the very least.
But maybe this is residue of what happened. Of what happened on my watch again.
Gabe follows her gaze and turns to me. I look at him, at this man with the mind of a boy. I see it, too. It’s in his eyes, the damage. I wonder what it takes for a father to do this to his son. And I wonder if death isn’t more merciful.
“Who is that man?” I hear him ask Gabriela.
She smiles, takes his hand and leads him toward me.
“Gabriela,” I say. When I lean in to kiss her cheek, she leans away, gives a slight shake of her head.
“This is Stefan, the friend I was telling you about,” she says.
The word ‘friend’ is hard to swallow.
“He gave you the shiny ring,” Gabe says.
She nods. “Yes. That’s him.”
Gabe smiles at me. “It’s a pretty ring.”
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s not as pretty as Gabriela though.”
“Nothing is as pretty as Gabi,” he says. He studies me for a long moment and it’s unnerving because there’s a flicker of Marchese in his gaze. A moment of knowing. But then he extends his hand. “I’m Gabe.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Gabe. Happy half-birthday.”
His smile widens and he turns to Gabriela. “I want another slice of cake,” he says.
“That sounds like a good plan.” We watch him walk away.
“Are you all right?” I ask Gabriela. “Rafa told me what happened.”
She turns to me, her gaze cautious. A little sad. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring Gabe to Sicily,” she starts, surprising me.
“I thought you’d want him close.”
“I want to move him from here, but I don’t want him near us.”
Bullshit. “Be more specific, Gabriela. Say what you mean.”
She studies me, searches my face, my eyes. “I don’t want him near you.”
Her words have the impact of a fist to the gut.
“This morning just shows how dangerous it can be,” she adds.
“This morning shouldn’t have happened.”
“But it did happen. Just like my kidnapping happened. Just like my being put at the bottom of a well happened.”
I cut my gaze to the right, find Rafa standing at the door watching us.
“We’ll talk about it,” I say.
“What’s to talk about? I’m not safe. How could my brother ever hope to defend himself if your enemies came after him?”
“We’ll talk later, Gabriela.”
“No. We won’t. I’ve decided.”
“I said we’ll talk. Go and enjoy some time with your brother.”
“Gabriela,” a woman comes over, cautiously glancing at me. “We should wrap this up. This surprise has been a lot on Gabe. I think he should rest.”
“Okay. Let me just say goodbye.”
The woman nods and Gabriela slips away, hugs her brother and whispers something in his ear. When she walks back toward me, she’s carrying two paintings. Well, they’re more of a child’s drawings on canvas.
“Gabe made these. This one’s for me and this one’s for Alex. I promised I’d take it to him.”
I just look at them because what can I say?
“He’s asking why Alex hasn’t FaceTimed him lately.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I lied. Said Alex was probably busy.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that.”
I know from the way she’s looking at me something’s up. Not sure what, but something.
After waving goodbye to Gabe, I walk her outside where she stops me before we get into the car. I notice when she scratches the back of her head, she winces.
“What is it?” I reach to touch it.
She pulls away. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You’re acting strange,” I say, putting my fingers to the spot, feeling the bump there. “And this isn’t nothing.”
“I hit my head during the chase.” She shifts her gaze away.
I cock my head to the side, trying to work it through. “How did you hit the back of your head?”
“I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt and was turned around. I hit it against the passenger side window.”
I study her, trying to figure out how that could physically happen. But why would she lie to me? She has no reason to.
