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He shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Look, I know we’re supposed to be friends, open and honest, but—but, well, we never talked about the guys you were interested in, and—”
“Sure we did!” She grinned and moved so she could bump her shoulder into his companionably. “Don’t you remember Benny Gustoff? I had the most terrible crush on him.”
Lorenzo chuckled. “And you were all of ten at the time.”
“Still. I was heartbroken when he gave a note to Mary on St. Valentine’s Day instead of me.”
He grinned, leaning into the wall by the window. “You cried buckets.”
“And you held me and let me blubber for an hour. Then you handed me your handkerchief and said, ‘The guy obviously has no sense if he had a chance with you and let you go.’”
“Mm.” He looked down at their joined hands. “That applies here, too. O’Reilly obviously has no sense.”
“So long as you do.”
Their gazes locked, and Sabina knew well he was reading her heart. He hadn’t bothered lately—or maybe she had stopped letting him. Maybe she’d felt so empty for so long that she’d just shut him out. But now she forced herself to stay open, to let him see her as clearly as he once had, even if it meant glimpsing those feelings she wished away. The flicker in his eyes told her when he’d found what he was looking for—that there was still something inside her with Roman’s stamp on it. Something that he had brought to life again, when it should have been Lorenzo to do so.
It did no good to blame either of them for that. It was a fact, and they had to deal with it. Had to heal from it.
She forced a smile. “I’m trying, Enzo.”
“I know.” Surprising her, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You did good out there, bedduzza.”
The approval felt like rain in her parched spirit, and she soaked it in. “So, are you done for the day? I thought maybe we could go for a drive and then take a pizza to the park.”
His face fell. “That sounds great, but I really have to talk to your father as soon as possible.”
A month ago, she would have left it at that, and let the door close on her heart. Papa, not her. Always something above her. But she wasn’t going to hide from him anymore, or let him hide from her. Maybe he never told her things because she never asked. “About what? Something to do with Roman’s visit?”
Lorenzo nodded and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “The bootlegging charges apparently weren’t dropped with the others, after all.”
It was bad news, but the ease with which he shared it—that was a victory. “Those aren’t that serious, though, right? Just a fine if he’s found guilty?”
“Yeah, since this would be a first violation. But the catch is that he only gets one pass. If he’s convicted again, it’s guaranteed prison time.”
She rocked back on her heels. Papa in jail for a night had been bad enough. Papa in prison? She couldn’t imagine what that would do to the family. “Do you think you’ll be able to get them dropped? Or get him off?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’ll try.”
And he would try, she knew, even though he’d never wanted to be put in this position. Her heart skittered again. She loved him for wanting something different for them—but she also loved him for doing everything he could, now that he’d committed to helping. “Enzo—Papa just told me today that you’d made him promise not to turn to you. I’m so sorry I got you involved in all this. If I’d known, I never would have called you, except to ask you to recommend someone else.”
He squeezed her fingers, and his eyes went soft. “I should have told you. It’s my fault I didn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t see that protecting you didn’t mean keeping you in the dark. I guess I’m more like our parents than I thought, in that way.”
They were probably both more like their parents than they wanted to be. But there were good parts, too, of what they came from—like the way they always put family above all when it came down to it. “Still, the fact that you’re helping Papa—I appreciate that. And I’m so proud of you for all this.” She waved her free fingers at the conference room. “You’re doing so well, Enzo, and even though I realize now that this isn’t the kind of defense you want to be part of—thank you. I know he’s done things he shouldn’t, but I don’t want my papa to go to prison.”
He obviously understood that—he surely felt the same about his own father. And, praise God, he grinned, instantly lightening the mood. “If I can’t get him off, he’ll just have to consider a change in profession.”
Sabina snorted a laugh and let herself relax. “Right. Well, Papa wasn’t home when I left anyway. I don’t think he’s going to be back until about seven, so we could still take that drive. You could talk to him when you drop me off.”
“In that case,” he said, releasing her hand so he could drape his arm over her shoulder, “let’s go.” He grinned again and gave her a friendly squeeze. “Pompei’s, right?”
“Where else? It’s our place.” Maybe reclaiming it would help them reclaim the ease they’d enjoyed running up Taylor Street together as children, their thoughts only on pizza.
If only things were still that simple.
