Page 37 of The Mobster’s Nurse

I look at him for a long moment.

See the boy in the album, still visible somewhere behind his eyes. See the man who buried the photos because someone told him softness was dangerous.

I think about the dog behind the glass. About which side of it I'm standing on right now.

"Yes. It does mean something," I tell him.

I can tell how desperate he is to hear this.

That same uncertainty swirls in my gut. But I can’t let him go into battle without my support. And it’s the truth.

“It does mean something,” I tell him. “It’s more than I ever expected. Whatever happens, this will always be special. Magical. You’ll always be the man who took my virginity.”

He pulls me against him in a big bear hug, squeezing me. I hold onto him tightly, knowing he’ll have to leave soon. I’ll have to let him go.

I'm not sure which scares me more — that he might not come back, or that he will.

11

LUCA

Vito scratches at the love heart on his chin with the barrel of his gun. A dangerous game, but those are the kind Vito likes best.

We’re waiting for Georgio to get into place at the other Irish safe house. The one we’re staking out is a boarded-up bar on the bad side of town, graffiti everywhere, broken bottles glimmering like fallen stars.

We’re hitting them at the same time.

“You okay?” Vito asks.

Shock riots through me. “Am I okay?”

He’s never asked me that. Or anything close to it.

Casanova shrugs his big shoulders. “You seem different since the girl.”

“Ellie.”

“Since Ellie,” he goes on. “More …” He pauses, looking for the word.

“Human?” I offer with a grim laugh.

“Yeah,” he says, with what passes a smile for him. “I wonder what that feels like.”

“Pretty damn good,” I say. “Who knows. Maybe you’ll find⁠—”

“Not for me,” he cuts in. “You all call me Casanova, on account of the scar. And I laugh, because what sort of man makes a big deal about a thing like that? But the truth is, boss, I’ve never found it funny. Something happened to me once. Something bad. Worse than the shit we do, even. And since then, I knew, love is never for me. It’s poison to me.”

“Fuck, Vito. I had no idea.”

Another shrug. “It’s not a big deal. But I’m happy for you.”

The long-range walkie crackles from the dashboard. “Boss?”

I answer it. “Yeah?”

“We’re in position.”

Vito cocks his pistol and reaches for the door handle, ready.