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My father hangs up soon after and then it’s just me again. It’s a common theme as of late. Me being alone, me being hidden from everything. Me having my own secret while everyone else has theirs.
I put the phone down on the kitchen counter and take a glass down to have a drink of water. A sickness that’s not necessarily morning related, or baby related, or just anything related, has crept up on me. I’m starting to think it’s home sickness though.
Luca’s safehouse turned out to be his mother’s old home. It was her own little private place where she used to go when the main house was too much. She’d come from a small home and life, and sometimes the big mansion was overwhelming, Luca said.
I completely understand. There’s a comfort here I’ve never felt anywhere else. I mean, despite not wanting to be here, or being confused about Luca, the house is still very comforting. There’s photos and knick knacks everywhere. I see Luca growing up in the photos, while his father grows older and sharper. Both of their eyes lose a joyous energy to them, while Luca’s mother only seems to grow in joy.
It’s been a week since the death of his father. He’s still no closer to finding the rat, or anything linking the Manettis outright. The attack on his father’s home was quick and precise. In and out. An inside job. It’s driving him crazy, he’s worried and paranoid about every single person in his family. The only people he doesn't suspect are me and my father, Marco and Gammie. Two of the oldest people he knows, and two of the newest. Everyone else is fair game.
As a sign of trust, and just as much for my own sanity and safety as his, I’ve set up our phones to be on a joint account. Plus, with the security app I installed, I can track him and he can track me. After his bizarre call the other day, where heattemptedto apologize and then left midcall, I just don’t feel safe. And he still won’t talk about it either. All he said was that the “rat” put a picture of his father in the glovebox of his car. But …
Either way, he won’t acknowledge the call and voicemail that I have on my phone. I don’t know whether it’s because he’s embarrassed, or if he thinks I still want him to apologize. I do want him to apologize, he accused me of being involved in his father’s death. But at the same time, I know it’s not the most important thing at the moment to ask for. That and he is looking after me by letting me stay here at his mother’s home.
I log into the app and double check that he’s still safe. There’s no alerts or anything abnormal about his actions. Marco made sure the accounts weren’t traceable or under our names either.
Other than that, the exchange of our phones and my installing of apps, is the longest time I’ve spent with Luca for the last week. I tried telling him about the app at dinner one night, he just nodded, but I don’t think it sunk in. A lot of our dinner’s are like that now. I just feel useless.
There’s a knock at the door, then the doorbell rings twice. The door unlocks and soon voices are heard.
At least he’s home at a normal hour today though, even if he’s brought company.
Luca enters with Marco close behind him.
“Hi,” I say.
Luca smiles awkwardly and then leans to kiss me on the cheek. It feels odd, wooden and like a show. He’s not done that ever, but it’s like he’s still too embarrassed about his behavior the night of his father’s death. Marco breaks the awkwardness though by smiling and waving. But Marco smiles and waves.
“Hiya again, Soph,” he says.
“Hi, Marco,” I reply. “How’re you?”
Marco nods and smiles. Marco is the only person of the family he’s told that we're hiding here. The rest know he’s in hiding, but not where. Marco is his right hand man and the only one who’s managed to get anything since.
He found another packet of matches.
“Just stopping in for lunch today,” Luca says. “Then back out, so you’ll have the afternoon to yourself.”
“Oh okay,” I say. “What can I get you guys? I whip the apron off of the tea towel holder, excited to be of help. But Marco holds up a bag. “We got rolls from the deli down on Miller,” he says, as if I know where the hell that is. “You like chili?”
I smile. “Sure.”
The lunch is silent and Luca practically wolfs his roll down. He’s finishing it as I’m barely a quarter way in. Marco is slower, but not too much further behind. This is the worst game of ‘playing house’ that I’ve ever seen. I think that even Marco knows too. Luca excuses himself and then is gone, leaving just Marco and I.
He leans forward and whispers. “Sorry,” he says. “He’s very preoccupied.”
I nod. He’s just told the world’s most obvious secret.
“I’ve known him for twenty years, and he gets like this when he’s stressed. Don’t take it personally. He just—” Marco grins. “He has the emotional capacity and threshold of a pin head sometimes.”
I snort and hold my laugh back. “That’s not true,” I say. He’s—”
Marco holds up his hand. “I know, he’s just lost his father. I know. Just as a best-friend observation,” he grins again. “I know it’s tough though. “ Getting serious and wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You just gotta be patient. He’s a passionate man. Which is good when it’s good, but sometimes not too nice when he loses his temper…”
My face betrays my deeper feelings. “It’s that obvious?”
“Oh, I know he yelled at you,” Marco whispers. “He hasn’t stopped thinking about it.”
“He said something?” I ask, leaning forward.
