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“I know what you told me,” he said, “but I can’t ignore your birthday. You’ve never had one before. It’s special, so no arguing, because it’s rude to argue when people wanna do shit for you. It’s like, punching a gift horse or something.”
She laughed. “Looking a gift horse in the mouth?”
Rolling his eyes, he reached into his pocket for a lighter and lit the candle. “Yes. A caval donato non si guarda in bocca. Just take it with a smile, and it’ll be over before you know it.” The moment he pulled his hand away, Haven blew out the flame. “Eager, are we? Did you make a wish?”
Her brow furrowed as he pulled the candle from the pastry. “A wish?”
“You make a wish before you blow out the candle,” he said. “It’s the whole point. But you’ll get another chance later with Dia.”
She tensed. “What?”
“We’re gonna spend the night in Charlotte with Dia for your birthday. Come on, did you seriously think you’d get out of dealing with her? We’re pretty much her only friends.”
He looked at her imploringly, pleading for her not to argue.
Haven tore the cinnamon bun in half, sharing it with him. The bottom was black and hard to chew, but she said not a word about it as she choked down her piece. Once Carmine finished his, he grabbed a stack of papers and handed them to her.
“What is this?” she asked.
“That, tesoro, is your life.”
Haven scanned the top paper, a certificate of citizenship, and tears formed when she saw her name. She flipped through the others as her emotions ran rampant, but the papers did nothing but confuse her. Wills, codicils, executors, beneficiary distribution, uniform transfers, custodians, residuary estate, fiduciary . . . “What does all this mean?”
“That’s your inheritance. It’ll take a few months before you see anything from it. Actually, it should’ve taken months for the rest of it, too, but Corrado somehow got it pushed through within a few days. I don’t know how he does it. Extortion, probably.”
She stared at him. “Inheritance?”
“Yeah, property and money and shit. I mean, I understand you’re not gonna wanna keep the house, but you can sell it or—”
“What?” she asked. “What house?”
He stopped speaking and looked at her with surprise. “Uh, the house in Blackburn.”
“Are you saying that house belongs to me?” He nodded, and she blinked a few times as she tried to absorb the information. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anything that belonged to those people.”
Frowning, Carmine grabbed her hand. “Look, don’t think of it as them giving you anything, but after what you’ve been through, you kinda deserve this. It’s like atonement. And I’m not saying any amount of money will make up for it, because it won’t. But after all of the torture and everything you lost, you’re at least entitled to this. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.”
“And money will help with these things,” he said, grabbing the papers and shifting them around so the citizenship certificate was back on top.
“What happens to me now? I’m still here . . .”
“My father said you can stay here as long as you want, but you don’t have to.”
“But where else would I go?”
“Wherever you want,” he said. “I told you that. California, New York, Timbuktu, Bum Fuck Egypt . . . You name it, we’ll go. Or you can go alone. Whatever you want.”
Tears streamed from her eyes, and she clutched the papers as her hands shook. Carmine pulled her down onto the bed as emotion took control and rocked her body in his embrace. Overwhelmed, she didn’t know what to think. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you, Carmine.”
They stared at each other, his green eyes a flurry of emotion. He wiped the tears from her cheeks before his fingertips brushed across her lips. She let out a shaky breath as he kissed her, finally let go of the papers. They dropped to the bed as she ran her fingers through his unruly hair.
“Ti amo,” he whispered against her mouth. “La mia bella ragazza. I want you to marry me.”
She gasped. “Marry you?”
“I don’t mean today or tomorrow. It doesn’t have to be this year or, fuck, next year. But someday, when you’re ready, promise you’ll spend your life with me?” His words made her stomach flutter. “Look, I know I’m doing this shit all wrong, but—”
