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“Well, what am I supposed to do about Enzo? I still can’t let him rot in a German prison. He has my back just like I have his. If he finds out that I left Italy to go raise a secret family instead of staying to help him, he would never, ever forgive me. I can’t risk that,” he continues, growing frustrated as the walls start to close in on him.
Marcello is so committed to his brother that he can’t bear the thought of leaving him behind, and there’s nothing on earth that I could say to break that bond. He’s dead set on staying to avenge Enzo, and he’s already spent a significant amount of time coordinating his revenge. This is his life, after all. He doesn’t know anything else, and certainly not parenthood.
Even knowing this in my heart, I can’t just let him shirk his responsibility to his boys. He’s well within his means to take care of the whole family many times over, and since he forced me to quit my job, I feel like he owes mesomething.
“You kill the informant, and then you come straight to the States with me. It works out in your favor perfectly if you manage to survive the attack. All you have to do is have a plane ready to go as soon as you’ve killed Franco. Does that sound doable?”
He thinks for a moment, unable to fully absorb everything that’s been thrown at him. His expression is bewildered, overwhelmed by the influx of responsibility that he’s taken on in less than ten minutes.
“I don’t want to be like my father, June. My father was thrown in prison when I was seven, and I never saw him again. I didn’t have him in my life at all, and I feel like I suffered for it in ways that I can’t even explain,” he replies, dropping the aggression from his voice.
“Okay, then, don’t go to jail. What’s important is that you come home and stick to your word. The boys have asked me where you are for as long as they’ve been able to talk,” I say, trying my best not to get choked up.
“Do you think they would even want me in their lives? Why doyouwant me in their lives? You know what I do for work. You know the life I lead. Why do you want your children around that?” he asks, eyes wide and desperate for answers.
“It’s never too late to change, and now you have a catalyst. You need to turn your life around if you want any place in your boys’ lives, and I hope to god that you do. Please, Marcello, tell me that you do,” I beg.
Marcello runs his hands through his thick, black hair. Even as disheveled as he is, he looks gorgeous to me. I hate that I’m so distracted by him when we’re in the middle of the most important conversation of both our lives. What am I, fifteen?
“Okay, fine. I’ll finish the mission, kill Franco, and go to the states with you. But only if you promise that you’re not going to make my life a living hell when I get there. We’re going to work shit out. You’re not going to take charge just because the territory is unfamiliar to me,” he warns.
I roll my eyes. Of course, I’m not going to dictate everything he does, but the boys have no idea who he even is. They’re not going to worship him and do everything he says as soon as he steps foot inside our apartment.
“We have a deal. But if you back out of this, I hope you know that you’ll never see me or hear from me again. I can’t go through that kind of abandonment and rejection again. I raised the boys perfectly fine without you so far, and I’ll do anything to keep them from getting their hearts broken.”
He gets up from his seat at the counter, walking over to my side and lifting his hand to my cheek. As he strokes it with the back of his hand, he lifts my face to look directly at his with the other hand.
“When I make a promise, I intend to keep it. I don’t ever want you to doubt me for any reason. I’m the father of your children, and I’m going to make sure that you all have everything you need for the rest of your lives.”
I want to look away from him at first. I always thought that hearing those words from Marcello would give me more peace than I’ve ever felt before, but now all I can think about is how much more devastating it would be for him to walk out on the boys and me. Have I opened up myself to the possibility of earth-shattering heartbreak without knowing it?
The fear grips me for a moment, and I’m frozen in front of him as he waits for a response from me. I glance up at him, and I can sense his unease at how long it’s taking me to give him an answer.
“I need you to really, truly understand that if you’re going to promise me something like that, I need you to be willing to die by that promise. I can't raise my boys on my own, but it would mean the world to them and to me to have you there,” I begin, choosing my words with as much tact as possible.
“Okay, so what do you mean by that?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
“I mean that it would feel so pointlessly hurtful if you were to leave us at some point. You have a life here in Italy, a huge empire that you need to stand by. Your family is here, namely your brother, who you’ve already sworn to avenge. That shows a lot of commitment, and I’m worried about how you’ll adjust to the change,” I continue.
He wants to be defensive. I can see it on his face. He wants to come after me with harsh words and accusations. Maybe that’s how he would have handled something like this in the past.
However, he knows that he’ll lose me forever if he retaliates like this.
Taking a deep breath, he navigates his mind for answers. He doesn’t want me to believe that he’d abandon his family, but which family does he share more loyalty to?
We stand in silence for a minute straight while he looks for justifications to abandon me. I knew this was going to happen. I can’t believe I ever thought someone as selfish as Marcello would leave behind his life of luxury to raise two kids with me. I wish my mom hadn’t said anything.
“I know you’re scared, June. But I need you to believe me when I say that I’m going to take responsibility for this family I’ve created, and I sincerely regret not being there for you sooner. I want to make it up to you for the rest of my life,” he replies.
I’m shaken by how genuine he’s being after seeing him behave purely in self-interest since the moment I met him. Maybe this is the part of him that I should have believed in all along, the piece of him that wanted nothing more than to provide for someone else.
“First thing’s first, though. I need to complete my mission. That’s my only condition,” he says, leaning on the counter to meet my eye level. “I can go alone, or I can take you as my guest. If you come with me, we can leave the wedding together to prevent delays. The longer I’m in the area after rounds are fired, the higher the chances of me being caught and skinned alive.”
The prospect of Marcello being skinned alive emphasizes the weight of the situation to me more deeply than I’d been able to understand it before. I’ve never witnessed a death, and certainly not a revenge murder.
Would I be able to handle it?
“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to handle it, Marcello. I’m not from this world of yours. I’m not as desensitized to violence,” I confess, feeling smaller and more vulnerable now that he’s lowered his voice.
