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“This is bullshit!” Dominic spat.
The force of his words startled Haven. She flinched. Heads instantly turned her way, four sets of eyes now boring into her.
“Is everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.
“It’s fine,” Dr. DeMarco said. “We are just having a disagreement, but this isn’t the time or the place for it.”
She glanced around, dread running through her as she took in their expressions. Despite what he had said, something was definitely wrong. She turned to Carmine, raising her eyebrows, expecting him to offer some sort of real explanation, but he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Don’t worry about it.
“I think I’m going to go lie down,” she said, taking a step back.
“I’ll come with you,” Carmine said, shooting Dominic an angry glare as he stalked past. He took her hand and she mumbled good-bye to everyone as he pulled her toward the steps, not saying a word.
“Are they mad about what you did in Chicago?” she pressed when they reached the bedroom.
“Something like that,” he muttered. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’d rather just . . . be. Just for a little while.”
“Okay,” she said, trying to push back the sick feeling in her stomach. He plopped down on the bed and she followed his lead, lying down beside him.
“La mia bella ragazza,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. She tilted her head to the side as he leaned in and kissed her neck, humming against her skin. “I was hoping today would be perfect.”
“We were together,” she whispered. “That makes it perfect to me.”
6
Haven hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but her exhaustion was deeper than she anticipated. Emotionally drained, she drifted into unconsciousness within a matter of minutes.
Rolling over in the middle of the night, her arm dropped on the other side of the mattress. She felt around for Carmine in the darkness, sighing when she realized she was alone.
Climbing out of bed, she quietly made her way to the door, the faint sound of “Moonlight Sonata” meeting her ears. The disjointed notes washed through her, the familiar broken melody forcing a frown onto her lips.
Carmine sat in his usual chair in the library, casually strumming his guitar. A sliver of light filtered in from the large window, illuminating his somber expression in the darkness. She called his name but he remained still, continuing to pluck at the strings almost as if he hadn’t heard her. She took a step toward him and was about to say his name again when he let out a long, deep sigh. “I had a dream.”
“Another nightmare?” she asked, walking over to him. He glanced up at her as his fingers stilled, the music stopping, but Haven barely noticed. She couldn’t focus on anything but the green eyes boring into her. Once so alive with passion, she saw nothing but deep sadness marring the bright color.
Carmine set the guitar aside and moved his legs to make room, motioning for her to join him. She climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her.
“Not a nightmare this time,” he said. “It was a good dream.”
“What was it about?”
“You,” he said quietly. “You made a painting—some abstract shit, I don’t know—but it was so good they hung it in a museum and raved about how talented you were. It was like you were the next fucking Picasso, tesoro.”
She laughed. “I don’t even know how to paint, Carmine.”
“You could learn,” he said. “Would you want to?”
“Maybe, but I don’t know how good I’d be.”
“Oh, you’d be good,” he said confidently. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself. You can do anything you set your mind to.”
“Except for play the piano,” she said playfully. “Or the guitar.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, for the sake of everyone’s ears, we ought to leave music to me, but the rest is all you. You can probably do all of that, you know. Draw, paint, sculpt shit into weird shapes and tell people it’s something it doesn’t look anything like. That takes talent.”
She smiled. “And you think I have that kind of talent?”
