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I looked at Aunt Rebecca. “I’m so sorry about Uncle Tony. He was a good man.”
Her eyes instantly watered, like his death was still a fresh wound.
Alex gripped her by the shoulder and escorted her inside.
My father slid his hands into his pockets as he regarded me. “I’m glad you came.” Traffic passed us on the street, but it was silenced by our conversation. No one else approached the church, like everyone who wanted to come was already packed inside.
I gave a nod—and walked inside.
* * *
The church was enormous, but every seat was filled. A lot of the men were those who worked for my father, and the rest were family and friends. Like true Italians, our families ran big, and our love even bigger.
Too bad most of them were fucking criminals.
Most of my family was Catholic, so it was a long service. Lots of prayers.
Aunt Rebecca cried through most of it. So did her son and daughter, cousins that I wasn’t close to.
When the service ended, people had the option to attend the celebration of life held at my father’s estate or join the family to lay my uncle to rest at the cemetery outside the city. Everyone filed out as they made their decisions.
People turned to look at me, giving me double takes, like they weren’t sure if I was who they thought I was.
I felt like an outsider in my own family, either because I got divorced, which was forbidden, because I was raped, or because I’d been estranged from my father for so long. Whatever the reason, it made me wish Bartholomew were beside me, his arm over the back of my chair, making me feel wanted when no one else did.
“Laura.”
I recognized his voice without seeing his face. I was still seated in the aisle, cornered, so I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there and walk away. I decided to take the high road and rise to my feet to look him dead in the eye. “Victor.”
He took in my features, his eyes shifting back and forth between mine, looking at me the way my father did, like he knew I looked different but couldn’t pinpoint why. He was still tall and handsome, and seven years of age had given him a more rugged look. Even in his suit jacket, the muscles were undeniable. “Been a long time.”
Not long enough. “How are you?” I asked, doing my best to pretend I actually cared.
He seemed to see right through it because he didn’t answer. “I’m sorry about your uncle. Your father took it pretty hard.”
“Really? He seems fine to me.”
He gave a slight shrug. “Not the kind of man to wear his heart on his sleeve.”
“You’d think he’d make an exception for his brother.”
When Victor felt my hostility, he started to back away. “You don’t have to stay in Paris because of me.”
“Because of you?” I asked, unable to control my laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, Victor. I wanted a new life, a life away from my father, and I can proudly say I have one. I own my own business, and my hot-as-fuck boyfriend doesn’t care that I was gang-raped by some assholes.”
He gave a slight flinch, either uncomfortable by my crassness or ashamed by my words. “When your father said you were coming, I was actually hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you about that.”
“What’s there to say, Victor?”
His eyes locked on mine, like he rose above his embarrassment to be sincere. “I’m sorry about the way I behaved. I didn’t handle it very well—”
“Youdumpedme, Victor. While I was going through the hardest thing in my life, you were wondering if you’d ever want to fuck me again.”
He cringed, his eyes closing like he couldn’t look at me as he heard that.
“And when you couldn’t, you divorced me. That was how you handled it.”
He stared down at the floor for a while, like my gaze was too hard to meet. “It was more complicated than that, but you’re right, I didn’t handle it well…and I’m very sorry. I married too young, before I really knew what it takes to be a husband. I’ve grown a lot since we last spoke…and I’ve carried this regret ever since.”
