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“Tell me about your mom,” he asked me softly, his face twisting to look at mine.
“Why?”
“We’re connected by the loss of our mothers.” His voice sounded distant. “I thought we could share some memories. I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I loved my mom. I felt robbed of her presence in my life, but I didn’t know how to share that with Antonio. It was a wound I’d carried around all my life, but because it wasn’t visible, no one understood how much it affected me, not even Imogen, and she’d been my best friend for years.
“I can tell you about a memory that I have.” He ran his fingers through his hair and then cleared his throat. “It was when I was young. My mom took me to a store, and I was trying to get her to buy me a truck. And she was frazzled about something and kept telling me no. But I kept saying I wanted this truck. So, I grabbed the truck and ran to another aisle. After a few moments, I went back to see if she’d relented, but she was gone.” He stopped and turned to me, his eyes burning a hole into mine. “And I can still remember the panic that ran through me. ‘Mom,’ I said softly at first. And then I looked around and said it a little louder. I went running and looking all around me. ‘Mom, Mom, Mom.’” His voice was breaking slightly as he told the story. “And I remember thinking she was gone, that she’d left me because I wouldn’t take no for an answer about the truck.”
“What happened?” I asked him softly, my heart breaking for the little boy that thought his mom had lost him.
“She grabbed me from behind and hugged me and kissed me and told me she’d been looking for me and that I was to never go off by myself again,” he said, reaching for my hand. “And then she told me she would never leave me and that if I was ever lost to stay in one place and to just keeping calling, ‘Mom,’ and that she’d always appear.” He squeezed my hand tightly. “And so, when she died, when we were at the funeral, after everyone was leaving, I wouldn’t move. I just stood there by her grave. And I made Alessandro stand there with me. And I just kept calling out, ‘Mom, Mom, Mom, I’m here, Mom.’” He took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t leave. My nonna tried to pick me up, but I wouldn’t budge. My dad threatened to beat me. I didn’t move. I needed her to come back. I needed her to find me. I needed her to hug me and kiss me and tell me it was all going to be all right.” He let out a guttural sound, let go of my hand, and jumped up. “But she never came back. That was one promise she didn’t keep.”
“She would have kept it if she could have, Antonio.” I stood up slowly, my heart full of emotions for this broken man. “You know that, right?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was frenzied. “She left me. She abandoned me. I had no one to care for me. No one to love me. No one to give a shit about if I lived or died. My dad, I’m nothing to him. He despises me almost as much as I despise him.”
“You have Alessandro,” I said softly. “You have Jimmy.”
“My brothers.” He nodded. “My life.”
“And you have me.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him into my arms. And as fucked up as everything was, he did. I was falling for this man. Maybe I’d fallen the first time I’d seen him. I didn’t know, but we were irrevocably attached to each other. As much as I hated him. As much as I was playing a game, I understood where he was coming from. And I knew that would be my downfall. You couldn’t fall for your captor. You couldn’t fall for the man responsible for turning your world upside down. You couldn’t, and you shouldn’t, but I had. It was just another complicated notch in our already complicated story. I was falling for him, but I knew that wouldn’t stop me from doing whatever I had to do to get the whole truth from him. I didn’t know what game Antonio was playing, but I knew that I, Callie Rowney, was paying to win, no matter the cost to my heart.
24
Antonio
Callie was whimpering in her sleep, and I could feel myself growing tense. I had to get us out of here. I needed to know what had gone down. I was worried about Jimmy. I knew he’d fight heaven and hell to protect me from harm. I knew that if he wasn’t here, then something must have happened to him. Jimmy and I weren’t blood, but we were even closer than that. We had a spiritual bond. I was his boss. But we’d both die for each other. He had my back, and I had his. He was the man I trusted with everything, and now I was locked up in a dirty, damp room with Callie, and he was nowhere to be seen. This was not a part of the plan. I momentarily considered that Jimmy had gone rogue and immediately dismissed the thought. Jimmy didn’t do anything without passing it by me first, except for maybe fuck. And then he always sent me pics so I could congratulate him on his prowess. Jimmy was a dog to women, but I knew he wanted to settle down. He was my opposite in that regard. He wanted to get married and have kids. “I’ll have five little Jimmys protecting you, boss,” he’d say every time he saw a new woman he thought had the potential to be his missus. Jimmy had plans to populate the world. And I knew without a doubt he would never betray me. Something must have happened, and I was ready to burn down the world to figure out what had occurred.
Callie screamed suddenly, her body jerking and twitching next to mine. My heart felt sympathy for her as I watched her legs and arms flailing. She was scared. She’d tried putting on a brave face, but she was scared. And it was all because of me. I debated between waking her up and letting her continue sleeping. I didn’t want to wake her up from one nightmare to the real-life nightmare again. I stared at her face, contorted with worry. She looked so nervous and beautiful. When I looked at her, an overwhelming sense of comfort always filled me. It was like I’d known her all my life. It was a weird feeling that I didn’t want to dwell upon too much.
I heard something moving around in the corner, and I was sure it was a mouse or a rat. Maybe eating the worms and beetles in the bag. Or building up the guts to come closer to us and nibble on our feet. I didn’t need Callie panicking more than she already was. I didn’t need to strangle a rat in front of her. I didn’t need or want her to be scared of me. I hated to admit it myself, but I’d messed up. Jimmy had been right, and this had been a bad idea. He’d get a kick out of telling me he’d been the smart one about this plan. I’d have to buy him drinks all night. Once I got Callie and myself out of there.
The last week had been a lot to put her through. The rat was squeaking now, and I wished I had a knife, but I knew I couldn’t kill it. Not with Callie here. I didn’t want to contribute to making her feel worse. I wondered if I was getting soft. I’d never cared what anyone was experiencing internally before. But this was different. Callie was different. When she’d pulled me into her arms and told me I had her, I’d almost felt something akin to genuine emotion. A sense of belonging. A sense of comfort that I hadn’t felt once in my adult life. I hadn’t planned on sharing that story with her. In fact, I’d blocked it out of my memory for years. I hadn’t even told her everything about that day.
How I’d stood there crying. How I’d tried to jump into the grave. How I’d fallen to the ground, banging my hands against the dirt. How Alessandro had stood there staring at me with wide, scared eyes. How I’d only gotten up when I’d seen him shaking, and I’d only left after he’d wet himself. Alessandro and I had never spoken about that day. We’d both been kids. Our mom had just died. So, of course, we’d act up. But I heard my mom’s voice at that moment. And she’d told me I had to be strong. She’d told me I had to look after Alessandro. She’d told me I had to keep my loved ones close and that we couldn’t exist without each other. It was weird. If anyone had ever told me they’d heard their dead mom’s voice, I would have called them crazy. But I knew what I knew. I knew she’d been guiding and advising me. And so that was what I’d spent my life doing. Being strong for me and my brother. Only now, I was being strong for Callie as well.
Callie stirred, her eyes opening slowly, her lips trembling as she whimpered. She looked up at me and frowned; there was worry on her brow. “So it’s still real, then?”
“It is.” I nodded, running my fingers back and forth across her stomach. She trembled slightly as I brushed my fingers around her belly button. Her skin felt silky and warm, and all I wanted to do was nuzzle her and bury my face against her.
“I thought it was a nightmare.” She wiped her eyes. “I had a dream about my mom.”
“Oh?” I wanted to know more, but I didn’t want to pry.
“We were in a room. I was reading a book, and she was making dinner. But then she started pulling all the curtains and making sure all the doors were closed, and she told me she had to go out.” She paused, and I watched as tears fell from her eyes. “And I got all sad, but I didn’t tell her, and she told me she had to leave for a bit. She had somewhere to go. Something to do. But I felt like she wasn’t coming back, so I grabbed her hand, and she kissed me on the cheek, and she said, ‘I’ll be back soon, Callie. Be a good girl.’” Her voice cracked, and her eyes widened. “But she didn’t come back. She never came back.”
“I’m sorry, Callie.” I kissed the top of her forehead. I knew how hard it was to have these dreams. Sometimes, I dreamed about my mother, and she was still alive, and we were laughing and joking, and it was like she was still here, and then I woke up and went back to my void of loneliness.
“I don’t really dream about her anymore.” She hiccupped and pressed her hands against her lips. “I don’t know why. I don’t mind it. I miss her when I remember, but it’s like having a nice visit.” She gave me a half-smile. “I suppose you know what I’m talking about.”
“I do.” I moved my fingers up to cup her face. My heart was racing. “It’s always a shock to see your mom’s face. To remember that you don’t really remember.”
“Sometimes I forget.” She nodded, looking guilty. “I’ve lived so much life without her, and sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t. Obviously, I know I can’t stay the same person forever, but I feel like if I move on too much, she won’t be able to find me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like I wanted to move away from New York.” She shrugged, and my heart stopped for a few seconds. “Maybe go to Europe somewhere and just start over. I think I’d quite like living in London or maybe Portugal somewhere or even in France. I could eat French pastries all day and night. I could—” She offered me a wry smile. “Well, I could have a different life. A real life. A full life. But then, then I don’t know if my mom would exist as much as she does now.”
