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“Marry me,” he whispered.
My breath caught in my throat.
For the first time, he wore no mask. There was no smoke screen clouding what was going on behind it. His love, his happiness, his fears, even his pain was laid bare for me.
I didn’t think a greater gift had ever been offered in all of time.
“Yes, Nico,” I said without a quiver of uncertainty in my voice.
Thiswas what I wanted.
Thiswas what I was certain I’d want for the rest of my life.
Epilogue
Nico
A warm autumn breeze blew, rustling through the leaves of the towering oaks. Still early in the season, the canopy above us was vibrant green. Only the occasional bit of red and orange hinted that the summer season was coming to an end. It would have been more fitting, I thought, if the trees were bare and a biting wind was whipping ice pellets in my face. That was always the way I’d imagined this day.
“Into your hands, O Lord, we commend the soul of your servant," the short, stocky priest prayed, his arms lifted and his face turned up to the sky.
PadreBenzi stood alone at the head of the gleaming mahogany casket. Maybe that was for the best. Better for one devout man to draw His attention rather than the tainted souls of the men and women gathered in the cemetery. Not that the man in the casket had much hope for a heavenly afterlife.
I’d found him three days ago in his office, sitting behind his desk, his hands clasped over his abdomen. So much the same, but his eyes were different. Not cold, not narrowed with suspicion or widened in anger. They were vacant. Empty. Whatever had occupied his body—spirit or soul or the random firing of neurons—was gone.
I’d stood there waiting for relief to fill my chest, for bubbles of laughter to climb up my throat. I stared and I waited to feel something. Anything.
I felt nothing.
Lorenzo Costa was dead, and I felt nothing.
Raven stood next to me now, holding my hand. She squeezed lightly as the priest concluded his prayer and my father’s casket was lowered into the ground.
I looked around at the black-clad men and women who’d come to pay their respects. Costas, Lucas, Lucianos; they were all here, standing stoically, every eye dry. We were going through the motions, but no one mourned the loss of Lorenzo Costa. No one would miss him.
“He was a fine leader,” Enzo Luciano said, clasping my hand firmly as the interment concluded.
“He was a well-respected man, Nico,” Amadeo said, standing next to his father.
One by one, they made their rounds, expressed their condolences for the loss of a strong man. Not a man who had been loved, not a man who would be remembered.
Vincent Luca approached last. He hugged Raven and then me, patting my back. Like the last time, I had no idea what to make of it. My own father had never hugged me once, never mind twice—not that I was suddenly starved for fatherly affection. It was just strange, in a not entirely unpleasant way.
“I am sorry for what will never be, son,” he said as he drew back, “but you are welcome in my home.”
“For what will never be…”The man was intuitive and honest; my respect for Raven’s father grew even more. And to be welcomed tohis home was a gift I was not too self-absorbed to recognize. The future of the Costas and the Lucas had become entwined, and he and I would be responsible for what came of it. “Grazie, SignorLuca. I appreciate your generosity.”
He smiled. “Not generosity, son. I do not talk of business today, but rather family.Famiglia, Nico.” He clapped me on the back once more, kissed his daughter’s cheek, then strode across the rich green grass toward the parking lot.
And then only six of us remained. The only six people on this earth who really knew Lorenzo Costa; my mother, brothers, and I through our experiences with him, and Raven, through what I’d told her.
“He is at rest now,” my mother said as a lone teardrop trickled down her pale cheek, her eyes had a faraway look to them.
I thought perhaps she mourned for what Lorenzo could have been more than for what he was. “I am sorry for what will never be,”SignorLuca had said, encapsulating in those few words everything that had been lost here.
Gabe nodded, but Caio and Sandro stood staring down at Lorenzo’s casket. Neither of my youngest brothers had cried, but I didn’t think it was due to the hatred Gabe and I had felt for the man. They looked shell-shocked, their faces blank, their eyes a little wider than usual. Lorenzo had been larger than life to Sandro and Caio, not the scum of the earth Gabe and I had known him to be.
Looking at them now, something hot and uncomfortable churned in my gut.There’s nothing but a monster sealed in that mahogany box,part of me wanted to shout at them, but I couldn’t force the words out. Maybe it was better to let them believe that our father was worthy of their mourning.
