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Nah.
Lorenzo took G’s vacated seat and grinned at her. “If that was any indication of your form today, I’ll be dancing soon, too.”
Sabina stuck out her tongue and began setting up the board for the next round. “How was your day, caru? I thought I’d see you last night.”
“I would have come over, but when I got out of the office your father was waiting for me to see what the senator said, and then Tony and Val showed up to inform me that Mama issued a command for all to be present for dinner.”
“Oh?” She arranged the last of her pieces and waited for him to do the same. “Any particular reason?”
Lorenzo smiled anew. “Yeah. Said she hadn’t had all her boys together on a weekday in seven months.”
“Ah. Well, I’m glad you stopped over tonight. I missed you.”
He lifted a brow, pausing with his fingers on the last black piece. “New strategy, Bean? Telling me you miss me, using endearments? If you think that’ll distract me from the game…”
She smiled, even though his words stung. “I don’t need to distract you to win. And I did miss you.”
Given the tic in his jaw, it looked like her words stung him too, though that hadn’t been her goal. Would they ever get this right?
He drew in a breath and slid a black piece into a new position. “I should have made time last night. Mi dispiaci. It’s been a long couple of days.”
She slid one of her reds out of line. “That murder case you’re assisting with?”
“Among other things.”
She could have let it go at that, but they couldn’t fall back into those old patterns of silence—not if they wanted to build something stronger than they’d had before. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Lorenzo snorted a dry laugh and moved another black. “Want to? No. But it’s something you need to know.”
“Okay,” she said around the lump in her throat. Her hand shook slightly as she reached out to make her next move.
“The other night when I got home, Helen Gregory was waiting for me.”
“What?” Her gaze snapped back up to his. “At your apartment? Why?”
His expression was blank. It was the same careful look he wore when he was trying not to rise to his brothers’ bait, the one he had perfected when they were kids and Joey and Tony used to taunt him, calling him Saint Lorenzo. He always wore that look when something affected him more than he wanted it to. He mumbled, “To try to convince me to give her a chance instead of you.”
Sabina’s mouth fell open. She felt like she had in that second between the whistle and the bullets’ barrage—like her life hadn’t been destroyed yet, but it would be. “Scusi? Helen Gregory has a crush on you?”
“According to her, she’s in love with me.” If anything, his eyes got even blanker. “You look shocked. Is it so unthinkable that another woman would be interested in me?”
“Of course not. It isn’t that kind of shock, it’s…” Dread. Fear. The same old emptiness yawning before her. She could feel herself tumbling into it. “You work with her. Every day. And she’s pretty and smart, an independent woman who hasn’t already hurt you, and…”
“And you’re the one I love. The one I chose, then and now.” He smiled, but it didn’t look exactly worry-free. “It’s your turn, Sabina.”
She glanced down at the game but was unable to focus on the colored squares. She hadn’t even noticed him move and couldn’t have said which piece he had selected. At the moment, she didn’t much care. She looked back up into his hazel eyes, searching for some warmth to accompany those assuring words. “What did you want to tell her? Do you…” She had to pause to wet her lips. “Do you want to start seeing her?”
His gaze shifted to the window. When he spoke, his voice was low and unfamiliar. “No, it’s not that. But when she kissed me—”
“She kissed you?” She pushed herself to her feet, toppling the chair behind her. Her hands were shaking. Outrage? Fear? She didn’t know. “And you let her?”
Lorenzo didn’t point out how hypocritical that accusation was—but then, he didn’t have to. As soon as she spoke the words, she felt the weight of her mistakes again. Never mind that she’d found Father Russo and made her confession, never mind that she’d done her penance. Forgiveness didn’t change the past. Reminding herself that their relationship was a journey, that this was just another of the stops along the road, didn’t make her hate herself any less. He had every right to hate her too—to pay her back in kind.
Yet Lorenzo wasn’t the type to do that, she knew. So then why did he look so torn? Did he care for Helen in return? “She took me by surprise. But the point is that it made me aware again of all I am. All I’m not.” He turned pleading eyes toward her. “What if I’m no better than them, Bean? What if we end up just like our parents?”
A month ago, she would have argued that such a fate wasn’t so bad. They were still together, weren’t they? Their mothers still laughed and planned weddings and talked about future grandchildren. Their fathers adored their wives and their children and made no qualms about saying so. They all sat together at every Sunday mass, every holiday. They had a good life—but all of it was a lie.
She sank back into her chair and reached across the board to grip his hand, not caring if she knocked the pieces out of place. “We won’t. We won’t. You’re not like them, Enzo. You never will be.”
