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He nods and continues, “I felt bad for Morella, but at the time, I was deep in my ‘Fuck the world’ pity party after my last breakup. Nick, that fucker…” He laughs softly. “He told me that I could turn things around. That this was a sign. He knew. The whole time I was an asshole, he knew what I actually wanted.”
“And that was?”
“To stop being an asshole and start being a man again.” He sits up a little, and I give him space he seems to need. “So, I took Morella and Sarah in. Morella got the best help I could find, but it was far too late. I was there for her in her last days, and then Sarah was my daughter.”
I swallow, unsure whether I should say it. But I do anyway. “Are you sure Sarah is yours?”
“It wouldn’t have mattered to me either way, but when she started to get sick, and we worried she’d need donor material, we did a match. Yeah, she’s mine.”
“You took Morella’s word for it before then?”
He pauses. “It’s like I said—I wanted to be a man again, and at the time, that meant taking Morella’s word for things. Believing blindly seemed like the adult thing to do.”
“Faith like that always seems like a bad idea to me. I like data.”
“You would. You’re a scientist.”
The word gnaws at me. “I was.”
“You still are, Veda. Always. It’s who you are. No hospital gets to decide that for you.”
I take that in and let it poke around my brain. I know he’s right. But right now, it’s going to take a little faith to keep believing.
14
LUPO
The invitation comes by voice this time, my private line in the morning. A number I’ve changed four times in twenty years, and she has never once failed to reacquire it. Lucky me.
“Lunch, tesoro. Today, my terrace, one o’clock.” Allegra doesn’t ask. She schedules. “Just us. Leave the doctor with her needles.”
“She has a name.”
“She has several aliases, I’d wager. See you then.”
I snap, “Send the terms through lawyers, Allegra.”
“You want terms? Here are my terms. I am offering to end a war before this gets further out of hand. Bring a lawyer if you like, but he’ll only slow the lunch, and that does not make for good negotiations. You know this about me.” A pause, cigarette-length. “One o’clock. Come for me, Tesoro.”
That last sentence no longer holds the power it once did. Bully for me.
A don avoiding conflict is willing to sit at the table even when the enemy does. A don curious about the enemy’s knowledge is eager to meet with them. It’s the smart play.
But honestly, I don’t care about any of that—not if it means sharing a table with Allegra Brancati.
I find Veda in the sunroom with Sarah, the two of them mid-negotiation over whether a stuffed wren requires a stethoscope of its own. Her feet are curled under her, long blue skirt grazing her calves. She looks up, and I want to kiss her.
That’s all it takes. A little ankle and a smile. I’m hopeless.
Innocently, she asks, “Meetings?”
“A lunch in the city.” True. But the whole story might end in a fight.
I like her angry, but I don’t want to start something in front of Sarah and leave her with a pissed-off Veda. That’s not fair to either of them.
“Bring me back something almond,” she says, and returns to the wren, and Sarah overrules the request in favor of chocolate, and I leave the two of them litigating it.
The Allegra omission feels wrong in my mouth throughout the drive, a flavor I never minded before but now do, so I set it aside until I finish driving. Calling Veda from the road to tell her would be foolish in the extreme. I’ll tell her the whole truth when I get home.
