Page 77 of Unraveled

“I didn’t want to become integrated in your life—not to the extent that I am. I didn’t want to be seen as a target for the people you do business with. I grew up living the sort of life you live, burying people I loved because of their affiliations and business. I was sure that you and I wouldn’t … I don’t know.”

“It’s impossible to live separate lives, Cara,” Gian pointed out. “I’m not two different men. I am the same man who carries a gun and acts as an underboss for my famiglia, and the man you demanded see no one else but you. The idea that I can constantly keep you from being integrated into all of that is ridiculous, and you should already know that.”

“Gian—”

“No, listen to me. That’s an idea you rationalized to justify your feelings and why you kept coming back for more. That was your fantasy to keep from worrying too much about what might happen or could happen to someone you give a fuck about.”

“I never once hid who I was to you,” Gian continued, his voice finally heating with anger. “I never once pretended to be anyone, except exactly who I am. It’s like Lea, right? It’s the same thing, in a way. You thought you both were good, safe away from your family and their business, but you never were, Cara. You can’t run forever, and you’re always a part of this thing being born to it. A child della mafia. This is who you are, and staying away didn’t keep Lea alive. So, what in the hell would make you think pretending that I am someone I’m not would keep reality from catching up to you again?”

Cara felt like he had slapped her.

Actually, a slap might have felt better.

“You didn’t need to bring my twin into this, Gian,” Cara murmured, her voice thick with pain.

“I only told you the truth.”

“You said it to hurt me.”

Gian shook his head, sadness coloring up his dark gaze. “You’re wrong. I never want to hurt you, Cara.”

It didn’t matter, she decided. Standing from the table, Cara picked up her bag and umbrella. She left her mostly-unfinished bagel and half-full coffee on the table. Gian didn’t stand to see her out like he usually would, instead staying firmly seated with his gaze stuck on the wall behind her.

Coldness radiated from him.

Cara knew that feeling well.

She was damn cold, too.

“I didn’t want this, not to be a target again, or hurt because I’m too close to you. I don’t want to be shot at when I’m leaving my place or to turn around and see some guy shadowing my every move to keep me safe. I didn’t want those things, Gian.”

“So what do you want?” he asked.

“I need some more time,” Cara replied. “Right now, I need time to—”

“Figure out how you got here with me.”

“Yeah.”

“Take as much time as you need, Cara.” With that said, Gian stood from the table in a smooth motion, never crowding Cara as he turned to leave. “But if you want to save some time trying to figure it out, then give me a shout. I know exactly what got us here, amore. Honestly, you know it, too. You’re one stubborn fucking woman when it comes right down to it.”

“The first non-rainy day in two weeks, and you want to spend it by playing in mud,” Cara muttered.

“Not mud, my flower beds,” her aunt replied with a sweet smile. “I need to get them ready for the seedlings that I’ll transplant outside, once I’m sure the frost is going to stay away.”

Cara huffed, blowing a stray curl that had fallen in front of her eye out of the way. She resisted the urge to wipe the hair away when it fell right back down again, but that was only because she was wrist-deep in Daniele’s flower beds. Or rather, one of several mucky piles of dark soil that was too damp for Cara’s liking.

She clearly wasn’t a green thumb kind of person.

“Thanks for joining me today,” Daniele said.

“No problem.” Cara overturned more soil, making sure to pull out any small rocks or dead weeds that had been left over from the year before. “I’ve been kind of busy lately. Sorry about that, Zia.”

Daniele shrugged. “Sometimes, that’s how life works.”

“I suppose.”

Cara wasn’t going to go into the details of what had been keeping her away and busy, but she figured her aunt probably knew enough to go on without being told. Daniele—considering her husband’s affiliations to the Guzzi family—had her own connections to the rumors making the rounds.