Made Men often did not support change, but I would do anything for Adriano.
Adriano burst into tears, and though I did not know of the correct course of action to console him in this specific scenario, he appeared to find comfort in holding my hand and standingbefore me, so I remained like everyone in that house had remained for me.
“Adriano,” I said quietly, my mouth moving ahead of my brain.
He looked up.
“I—”I love you.
My own eyes widened at what my brain had desired to say. I did not have the credibility to claim such a thing, and I could not feel what was required for that statement to be true, but it was almost a burning requirement to express it. This concluded that I had started to feel emotions, feelings that I had not thought myself capable of.
This was not permitted under any circumstance, and I would not act upon it.
“This means that Francesco is required to assist my wife with her school,” I said quickly instead.
“Already done.” Francesco yawned. “We’ve been talking about it for weeks, but you’ve been arguing with her like an ass, so you wouldn’t know that.”
I rolled my eyes.
Having Francesco in my family would be an adjustment I would struggle to make, but I would make it because Adriano was a strict requirement and he washisrequirement.
In the comfortable silence that followed, a thought formed, and I asked, “Is there a term for somebody who surpasses their title?”
Adriano crossed his arms. “What do you mean?”
“Sicily is my wife; this is her title through our marriage.” I swallowed, placing a hand on my chest to rub away the ache. “There is no requirement for a wife to make me experience the sensation that if I had not met her, I would not be…me.”
The silence forced my gaze to find them and their aghast expressions.
“A soulmate, brother,”Francesco said in a hoarse tone.
“Soulmate?” I echoed.
He nodded. “It means someone who was meant for you. Like somewhere in time, the universe decided that Sicily would be your person one day.”
The notion that the outcomes of our lives were somehow predetermined by fate was illogical, but it concluded something that I had always believed; it was no coincidence that I had chosen Sicily over her sister. It was not chance that she was the only person in history to cause me to recalibrate around their chaos. It was not perseverance that allowed her to be the only one that I kissed. It was not luck that I required her every second of the day to function.
She wasmeant for me.
19
MILAN
Francesco Carbone had livedin my house for one week, and I had already planned his death twenty-three times. Twenty-two of them were planned to look like an accident. One time, however, I did plan a bloody spectacle.
He sang loudly in the shower at seven in the morning, fed my wife sugary pancakes and even more sickly syrup so she contained the energy of a wild horse every morning, and he was extremely vocal in his sexual activity with my Consigliere multiple times a day. He then showed up to dinner each night and everyonesmiledand sometimes Sicilyclappedat his appearance.
Francesco was suboptimal in every regard, but he seemed to make everyone express happiness, and that caused me to betolerantof him, so much so that I had permitted him to attend Sicily’s request at an outing with us.
My wife had requested both of our presences with a vague destination on her phone map alongside the pink car, and though I would give Sicily everything she ever wanted, I drew the line at the car after the Fiorella Bianchi party debacle.
“Sicily,” I said slowly, keeping one eye on her, one on the map, another hidden eye on the street, and the final on Francesco in the backseat. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere so fun,” she said, smacking her lips together in the mirror and applying something unnecessarily pink and sticky.
I turned the corner as her phone requested I do, frowning at the tall, white building that emerged. It looked like a mental institution with boarded-up windows, something brown smudged along each seam of the decaying brick, and doors with a significant security issue, considering they were wide open.
Sicily made a sound similar to that of a newborn bird, and I understood that this, paired with the grin on her cheeks, wasexcitementat this decrepit building.
