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His mood plummeted still more. “Thanks for leveling with me there, Mary. Just in case I hadn’t figured that out for myself.”
“Well if you knew it, why didn’t you do something about it? You could have had her up the middle aisle before you made a move for her old man.”
Roman blinked, sure he had heard incorrectly. “You’re kidding, right? Shouldn’t you be saying it’s a good thing I showed my true colors before Sabina got involved with me any deeper?”
Mary rolled her eyes, took Cliff’s vacated seat, pulled out a cigarette, and lit up. “Look, I’m not a pushover, okay? Maybe you fooled us all about who you really were, but you couldn’t have faked your feelings for her. Marrying you might not have been great for the rest of her family, but at least you make her feel something. If she goes through with this engagement to Lorenzo, she’s going to shrivel up and fade away before she hits thirty.”
His vision blurred at the thought of her marrying Capecce, going to his bed, having his children. Mary was right, it was a fate far worse than a life with him would have been. They might have had to leave Chicago to avoid her father’s wrath when he figured out the truth, but at least they would have had fun together. “Maybe it’s not too late.”
Mary blew out a ring of smoke. “Says you. The way I see it, you’ve made your bed and will be lying in it alone. She’s determined to marry Enzo now.”
His knuckles whitened around his glass. “Can’t you talk her out of it?”
She snorted around her cigarette. “She won’t listen to a thing I say. What about you? Have you tried to talk to her?”
“Not since the Monday after.” Roman sighed and made an effort to loosen his grip on his gin. “She wasn’t very receptive, though I could tell she still has feelings for me.”
“Well, that much is good. Maybe you should try again.”
“When?” Frustration leaked into his tone. “She’s always either at home with Mama and Papa, who would never let her out of the house if they saw me, or with her precious Enzo.”
“No.” Mary drew the word out thoughtfully and leaned back against the bar. “She’s come to our place by herself a few times—Papa Manny doesn’t always even assign a guard. Not that you could meet her there, what with Izzy always around and—” She cut herself off, covering it with a cough that didn’t sound real.
Roman frowned. Someone was sick, right? A mother or grandmother or something. Sabina had mentioned it.
Mary apparently didn’t care to. She took another drag. “Maybe I could get her to the park or something though, and you could be there.”
Hope began to burn in his chest. “You’d do that?”
“Maybe.” She crushed out her half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray on the bar. “If the opportunity presents itself and it still feels like a good idea in the morning. Tell you what—we’ve been coming here every Saturday. Check in with me next week and we’ll see where we stand.” Scooting off the stool, Mary hooked her arm through Rob’s and aimed her body back toward the dance floor. She halted and turned again with a hard glint in her dark eyes. “But Roman? You mess up again, and I’ll help Manny’s boys run you out. Got me?”
He saluted her with his drink. For the first time in weeks, his heart was light. This time he’d do things more carefully. Make Sabina his—then bring down her father.
Sabina felt lighter than she had in years as she hurried with the wind, her mind tripping from one memory to the next. Some old ones that she and Lorenzo had been laughing over from their childhood, some new ones they’d made the last few days as they took walks on his lunch breaks or chased younger cousins through Arrigo Park after he got off work.
Every noon, she met him at Birdwell, Stein, & Associates. Every evening, he took her hand in his and led her out for a stroll through Little Italy. He smiled at her, and she talked to him, and for the first time since he’d slid the ring onto her finger, she actually felt like a bride-to-be.
Even if Helen Gregory still sent her probing looks every time she came through the office doors. Even if Papa was always there in the evenings with one underling or another. Even if two guards still followed them wherever they went.
Her life wasn’t without shadows—but it was real.
Sabina turned at the corner…and stopped as she saw the street in front of Papa’s building. When she’d offered to bring over the attaché case he’d forgotten that morning, she hadn’t paused to think that she hadn’t been here since that day. The day Bureau cars had strewn the pavement and guns had pointed at all the exits. The day Roman had propelled her right into the fight. The day all her sins had crashed down on her.
Her breath shook as she drew it in. No cops today, no Roman—just an old jalopy chattering along. Still, it took a solid minute for her to convince her feet to move again. Why hadn’t she just let Mama send Papa’s case with one of the guards?
“Bina, ciao.”
She spun around, digging up a smile for her future father-in-law as he came up behind her, a paper bag in hand that smelled of onions and garlic. “Hi, Vanni. I was just heading up to see Papa. Is he available?”
Vanni, who was usually stationed inside the front doors, smiled warmly. “He’s just reading the papers until I get back with lunch. I’ll walk you to the door.” He turned back around and offered his arm. She tucked her hand into it. “Fran really enjoyed having you over to dinner the other night, cara. You’ll have to come by more often—she likes talking of all those female things the boys never want to discuss.”
She smiled, made herself say something about appreciating Fran’s decorating tips, but she couldn’t help seeing him, this street, everything through a new lens today. Vanni, a man she’d always loved like an uncle, had killed before. He, like her own father, ran bordellos. He welcomed his sons into the Mafia’s ranks. His sins dogged Lorenzo, made him question his own judgment. Yet still he grinned down at her with a twinkle in his eyes, like any future father-in-law would.
They passed by the place where Roman had held her, right across from the door, and she stumbled.
Vanni covered her hand with his free one and pulled her onward. Quietly, he said, “I’m very glad you and Enzo have worked things out, Bina. I have too long counted you as a daughter to deal with the thought of losing you. Seeing you enjoying each other so much the other day was a balm to my soul.”
She moved a little closer. “Me too, Papa Vanni. You’ve raised a wonderful man.”
