Page 29
“I appreciate her, but I don’t envy her in the slightest, you know, having to go to that place every day. Have you seen the construction in this city? Traffic, an utter nightmare. The hospital’s a mess with all the work they’re doing. Just getting to my appointments on time these days is a miracle, and I leave an hour early.”
He keeps going as he sits next to me with his own espresso.
The old man loves to talk, and I pretend I love listening.
As I nod agreeably at his rant about the overflow parking in the garage and how the mobility buses he rides get stuck in traffic too, I take a second to savor this moment.
How normal everything feels in this cramped old-school kitchen.
If I relax, I can almost believe I’m not heir to the ruthless Ferrazzo empire and its myriad of fucking problems.
I’m just enjoying a nice visit, rather than keeping tabs on a witness.
Just a nice, normal man with a heart and a functioning dick, about to take a pretty young woman on a date.
It’s as short-lived as it is absurd.
Normalcy never existed in my line of work.
And Sylvie reminds me how true that is when she returns, wearing a strained smile.
Her hair has been swept into an updo, still gorgeous.
Her green-rimmed glasses and gold hoop earrings bring out a subtle tan on her skin.
Damn. This girl can turn heads when she’s not settling for those pale-blue work scrubs.
She glides over to her grandfather and kisses him on the top of his head.
I’m a little jealous.
“Love you, Nonno. I’ll try to make it home in time for us to take a walk after lunch.”
Max protests, shaking his head.
“Piccolina, don’t dream of it. I walked down to the gas station yesterday for my scratch-offs like I do every week. Surely, that counts for something for a man with arthritis, no?”
She smiles, but her tone shifts to serious. “Nonno, it’s your heart we need to exercise. A walk or two a week isn’t enough to curb your high blood pressure. Six days a week. You know this. Remember what happened to Papa?”
Max’s face darkens, his friendly smile falling.
Her point sinks in like only death can.
I’ve seen that look a thousand times.
“All right, sweet girl. Whatever you say. But you must enjoy yourself a little today. Humor your grandfather.” He wags a hooked finger.
She rolls her eyes as she looks at me again.
“With him? How could I ask for better company?”
How indeed?
Her eyes darken, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. It’s the same thought trapped in my head as I watch her move, young and lithe and so agonizingly pure.
God in heaven, save me.
5
