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I tug on the ends of my hair. Why is this happening? Is this some sick and twisted way the universe is taunting me, today of all days?
The faces swim faster as tears pool in my eyes as Lindy points out different people and family events.
My breath catches as Lindy’s fingers flip pages.
Or…
Maybe it’s the universe giving me a little piece of my life back, just for a little while reminding me that I’m not alone after all. Stoli 2 chooses that very second to leap into my lap and nestle against me. I look up and catch Rocco staring at me. His brow furrows, and he knows something is wrong. But I don’t let the tears fall. Instead, I smile.
I actually smile.
And something deep inside tells me that maybe…just maybe…I’m going to be okay after all.
It’s an odd feeling, one I’ve never quite experienced before.
Perhaps the universe is sending me a different message this year, one that isn’t laced with thoughts and plans for revenge. Maybe this year, it has a deeper meaning…hope, faith, happiness…things I figured were long buried in the past.
The possibility doesn’t fix me. It doesn’t instantly glue my heart back together. It doesn’t make me forget.
But it does awaken something in me that I thought flickered out a long time ago — the desire to be happy. I’d squelched it, not believing I deserved it. I’d been spared for some unknown reason, and I didn’t stop the disaster from occurring. I could have done something. I could have helped them. And Papa...it’s not like he ever really made an effort to engage with me as a parent after everything happened. We both kind of retreated into our own anger, regret, and sadness, living together, working together, but never really connecting.
Surviving that horror was like my own personal hell on Earth. I felt like living was punishment for not taking action. And then I spent the next eight years trying to make up for it, trying to punish people who’d crossed us the same way I’d been punished — by taking everything from them.
Deep down, I’d hoped Papa would finally figure out why I’m so good at my job, why I’m so intent on making people pay for their wrongs. That maybe he’d respond to my blood-soaked cry for help because Ivanovs don’t just break down and lose their shit when things get tough. They channel that emotion into other, more productive things like killing that slimy bastard Ian Raines as punishment for screwing us over and stealing what’s ours.
Dammit! I need my brain to stop functioning for just a few minutes so I can pull myself back together.
Maybe I need some more wine. Whatever I’d gulped down made my insides feel nice and toasty. A little more will take the edge off and numb my thoughts, at least temporarily. That’s all I really want for my birthday this year. A break from my inner turmoil.
And oh, yeah. Maybe an acknowledgement from my father who has yet to so much as send me a text. I take a deep breath, my fingers closing around the wine glass stem. My eyes have been focused on the photos and so are everyone else’s, so at least my little silent breakdown went unnoticed.
I point to a picture of three little dark-haired boys on a beach and sniffle-smile at the same time, praying I don’t look like an emotional basket case in front of Rocco’s family. The tears are in check, but I’m a little nervous that they may go rogue at any second.
I need a diversion, and I think I found it.
“These little boys…” I murmur.
Rocco chuckles. “Me, Max, and Nico, at Nico’s grandparents’ house on the shore.” He turns to his father. “Grandpa Vito’s famous summer barbecue. How many of us were able to fit in that place? I remember all of us kids were piled on top of each other on the living room floor. Jesus, there must have been, what, twenty of us?”
Allegra smiles. “Those were fun days. And for as big as that house was, Vito and Lou managed to fill it every weekend. And the food!”
Antonio chuckles. “It never ended! Course after course after course. If you didn’t go to sleep feeling like you were going to pop, Grandma Lou would have made you eat more. Nobody in her house ever went hungry.”
I run my fingers over the picture. “It sounds like you had a lot of fun growing up with Max and Nico.”
“Yeah…” Rocco’s voice trails off. “We did.”
Antonio claps Rocco on the back. “Let’s set the table for dinner. The pizza should be here soon.”
I grab my wine glass and stand up, backing away from the table. “Looks like you need a refill,” Allegra says, holding out the wine bottle.
“Yes. It really is delicious.” She fills my glass with the magical red liquid that has the power to relax my mind and body like nothing else. It amazes me how vodka has zero effect on me, regardless of how I guzzle it like water. But this wine…it actually calms me. Blunts the need for revenge yet fires up my libido at the same time.
Magic juice, I’m telling you.
I think I need to hit a liquor store on my way home.
Rocco finishes putting out forks and knives and looks over at me. I don’t make eye contact. I don’t need to. I can feel the heat of his gaze on me, searing my insides. Butterflies swarm in my belly, agitated by the wine. I want to look, but I force myself to focus on Allegra. She asks me about work at the shelter, and I tell her about the animals and where they come from, how they found their way to our temporary home. I prattle on for a few minutes until the doorbell chimes and everyone cheers and Stoli 2 dashes over to the front door, barking like he knows what’s waiting outside.
