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“Before she’s spent an hour cooking?” Tony snorted a laugh and dropped into the chair. “Hilarious.”
“Still can’t believe you got shot.” Val grinned at him and sent an admiring look to the bandage wrapping Lorenzo’s head. He was the babbo. “And saving your girl. How could she not beg you for another chance after that?”
Lorenzo’s frown deepened. Was that what it was? Not the fear of losing him, not genuine regret, but the tug of heroics? She’d compared his actions to O’Reilly’s, after all. And hadn’t Mama always said that every girl wanted a man who would be her hero?
That wouldn’t get them far. She’d forget soon enough what he’d done and remember what he hadn’t. Heroics couldn’t bridge the gap of the last three years. It certainly couldn’t undo her relationship with O’Reilly.
So why couldn’t he make himself go interrupt Mama’s song to tell her the wedding was off? Why had he nodded to Sabina’s plea?
Val’s elbow found his ribs. “You’re doing it again, Enzo.”
He flicked a glance at his little brother. “Doing what?”
“Thinking too much. I can practically see the gears turning inside that egghead of yours. You know what the problem is?”
Lorenzo quirked a brow.
“Tony and Joey didn’t pound you enough when you were little. They shoulda punched you a few more times and knocked some of those extra thoughts loose.”
Lorenzo snorted a laugh. “They tried.”
Tony chuckled too. “He was too slippery. Always wiggling away and then running off to…”
To Sabina’s house, just down the block. Lorenzo sighed. That was why he’d nodded, why he said nothing to Mama. He’d loved her too long.
A rap sounded on the door, bringing them all to attention. Lorenzo tried to tell himself to stand, but Tony was at the door before he could even brace his hands on the couch. It must not have been gun-toting rivals, because after a quick peek out the peephole, Tony threw open the door and held his arms wide. “Teo!”
Lorenzo was halfway up, but Val charged by and knocked him back to the cushion. He gave up and stayed there so his head could pound its way back down to a dull ache while his brothers greeted their cousin.
Mama danced her way out of the kitchen too, to greet her favorite cousin’s son. She had a spoon still clutched in one hand, a thick white sauce clinging to it. “Teo, caru! It’s been too long!”
Eventually, they parted enough for him to catch a glimpse of Brother Judah—not that his family ever remembered to call him by the name he’d taken when he took his vows. His cousin caught his gaze over Val’s shoulder, winked—then his eyes went wide, and he pushed farther into the room. “Enzo—what happened?”
Enzo couldn’t have answered if he tried. Val and Tony spilled the story, interrupting each other every few seconds. Mama had heard it all already, of course, but she still had to come press another kiss to his cheek and tell him he was a good boy before taking her cream-covered spoon back to the kitchen.
Lorenzo wondered how rude it would be to tell his brothers to scram so he could talk to Judah but decided he couldn’t do it. Not today, anyway, when they were all here because they loved him and wanted to make sure he was okay.
Thankfully, Tony looked at his watch after not too many minutes had gone by and hissed out a breath. “We’re gonna be late, Val. Better go. If you’re okay, Enzo?”
“Go. Please.”
Tony made as if to toss something at his head but then just waved. “Ciao, Mama! Going to work!”
“Arrivederci, Antonio,” Mama called without leaving the kitchen. “Valente—behave yourself.”
Blessed silence descended once Val shut the door behind them. Well, not silence—Mama was still singing in the kitchen. But close enough. Judah came forward with a wary shake of his head and took the seat Tony had vacated. “I thought I was coming over to talk to you about Sabina—I didn’t know you’d been shot.”
“Just grazed. It was the concrete step that really did damage.” He lifted a hand toward the bandage but stopped himself before he could touch it. He’d already made that mistake enough times during his thirty-six hours at the Mancari house.
As always, Judah arrowed a glance straight into his soul. “That’s not what’s hurting you though. Did you want to talk now? Or…?” He nodded toward the kitchen.
Mama launched into a robust opera chorus, making Enzo’s lips tug up. “I don’t think we’ll be overheard.” He just didn’t know where to start. The betrayal? The second chance?
No. He couldn’t start with her. He had to start with himself. “Did I make a mistake, cos? Choosing marriage instead of the Church?”
Judah frowned, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “We had these conversations years ago—you were certain that you could serve God with a wife, by raising a devout family. Absolutely certain. Why are you doubting now?”
Because he’d been so certain—and then made a mess of everything. It reeked of having put his own will above God’s. “I thought I was respecting her, protecting her—but she thought I’d abandoned her. She…she turned to someone else, who turned out to be using her to get at her father.”
