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“What do you want the answer to be?”
“I want the answer to be the truth.”
He leaned forward and studied my face then leaned back and seemed to consider. “Do you think the truth will make a difference in who you are? Do you think it will set you free?”
“No. I’m way past thinking anything will set me free, Francesco, but I deserve to know if I killed Renzo or if your guy finished him off that day in the alley.”
“You did.”
“Okay.” I nodded, letting that sink in. “Thank you for your honesty.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.” I got my mind back on track. “Do you really think Mama would have shot Elio?”
“Yes, and you as well.” His face was a study of conflicting emotion.
“But why?”
He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “Because of what you did,” he countered, and I shook my head with disbelief.
“You know, don’t you?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.
“Who do you think told me?”
I stood up suddenly, no longer able to sit, and bit the end of a nail. “She thought I betrayed her by what I did at the church,” I said more to myself than him.
“You accepted the ring. You gave your oath and signed the papers.”
“But it meant nothing. I mean, it meant something, but not what she thought. I did this for us, for all of us. Besides, it wasn’t like I could say no—”
“No one is blaming you, Sienna. We just need to think about what the next step will be, and fast.”
I glanced at his phone and lunged for it.
“I need to call Elio. He needs to know the truth.”
“No,” he swiped it away before I could reach it, “not yet. He has enough to deal with there. Give him a little more time.”
“If he finds out and he didn’t hear it from me first, I’ve been down that road…”
“Just, please, wait. We need to talk first.”
I sank back in the chair and covered my face. I had an urgent need to gather everyone up and put them in a room and share everything with them.
“Take these.” He handed me two pain pills and a glass of water as he examined my face. “Just take the night, and we will figure this out in the morning.”
I complied, as my jaw was quite swollen and painful. As I swallowed back the pills, I took a few deep breaths.
“Mama told me about Oscar.” I said the words quietly.
“What? That he loved her?”
“No.” I shot a glance over at him. I’d never really paid much attention to Oscar. He was kind of like air, always there, but never did much to catch your attention. Perhaps he stood out a little in the beginning but then seemed to fade away to the point where he never entered my consciousness. “She just said he was an excellent shot.”
Francesco let out a sudden burst of laughter that shocked me, and I found myself intrigued to find out what was so funny.
“Oscar couldn’t hit a wine barrel if he was standing next to it.” He ran a hand through his hair with a chuckle. “No, it’s your mama who was an excellent shot. That woman could shoot a white feather in the middle of a snowstorm eight miles away.”
