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I turn onto Greenwood and start heading to the side street for the port. It’s got no traffic at this time of night and I begin shifting through the gears, gaining speed as everything turns into elongated blurs. The car roars along.
Marco is taunting me over and over, as my head replays all the stupid things I’ve done. I can see him laughing the way he does when he’s won a poker game or some other juvenile game. He’s whispering about his control over me. I’m completely losing it.
But through the voices I begin to hear other truths. All the hints that only make sense now. The sly comments he made about Sophie, or the way he summed things up after we saw her, planting seeds about the burner phone after the yacht even. All of them were different ways he was twisting me. He told me that she pitied me. He told me that she was saying things to him behind my back—how did I even believe it all without questioning it? Was this why I was hesitating to tell her things? All because I’d believe the other things Marco said?
He told me that she was making secret calls on her phone, and I believed him. I believed so many of his lies without question. I grip the wheel even harder and my knuckles are bone white.
I need to make this right.
I need to save her and bring her home to Tommy. I’d understand if she never wanted to see me again. I’d understand if Tommy wanted to kill me too, but I at least have to make thisright.
I turn onto Banebridge and see the far off lights of the port. The sea runs along the right hand side of me and the silhouettes of gulls are flying in the night air. The green sedan and number plates come up quickly and I pull to a stop behind it. The shipping yard is closed, but there's a small gate that has been left open.
I kill the ignition on the car and the engine dies. I roll my shoulders and try to relax. I realize I haven’t thought of anything about Marco. I haven’t spent any time figuring out how to solve this problem, only pissed off that it happened to me.
I guess that’s Don lesson number one: take a step back in every situation. What would I do if it happened to someone else?
I get out of the car and the silence of the night puts me on edge. There's no one in the Russo car. I head by and through the rusted gate. It swings with a whine and the shadows of many small boats lie before me. They’re stacked on enormous metal frames in varying sizes. All giants in the night. But towards the end, near an old rusted shed, there's a light on.
Tommy is there leaning against a barrel, he’s in a suit too crisp for what’s going on. He’s smoking calmly and not looking at me.
“Tommy,” I call. I jog to him
I need to do this. I need this redemption from the asshole I’ve been not just now, but most of my life.
“Tommy,” I say, coming to a stop in front of him. I’m slightly breathless. “What’re we going to do?”
He looks up at me with eyes cold and dead. Suddenly the end of a shotgun barrel comes to my neck and I’m picked up from behind.
My throat is crushed and the gun is pulled tight by some mountain of a bodyguard. I wiggle my hands onto it and try to pry it away, but it only crushes harder against me. My breathing capacity is cut in half immediately
“That depends on what you say next.”
Chapter 25
Sophie
Idon’tknowwhenI fell asleep, but I know that I am asleep. I must be, because I’m back at Luca’s mother’s house. And it has to be a dream because he’s sitting on the couch withourchild and they’re reading a book. I’m speechless. And every time I look away and come back, the child changes.
“You’re home already?” he asks, coming up and over to me.
He kisses me on the cheek and I look at him oddly. I’m still frozen. Okay, this is definitely a dream now. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well you went out, and then you came back?” Luca says, smiling.
I shake my head. “But what do you mean? Where is this? When is this?”
Luca’s face falls. “Oh my love you’re so confused.”
My love…
“Luca, we’re not together. You don’t know about the baby. This isn’t real,” I say desperately. My body begins to tingle in fear and becomes cold, as if I’m not wearing clothes.
“Why can't it be?” Luca asks. “If you love me, why not?”
“Because you’ve been distant, and we’ve been complicated despite Marco’s manipulations.” I fall quiet. “You’ve been grieving and I haven’t really been there for you either. But—” I want to turn away, I didn’t plan on having this argument in my subconscious. “But you apologized and then you seemed to accuse me straight away again! What am I meant to think?”
Luca doesn’t say anything. This part of me doesn’t know what he’d say, so he says nothing. Instead he points at my stomach. “I haven’t been there for you,” he says, then pointing at the child on the couch.
