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She hugs me. My arms stay at my sides for a few seconds. I don’t deserve this hug. Then I embrace her. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
Yeah, right. I’m going to protect her from Leo. I can’t even protectmyselffrom him, and let’s face it. I don’t want to.
* * *
“Look who I brought,” Rosa says, striding ahead of me in the living room.
The apartment is far more modern than the townhouse, with sleek surfaces and abstract art. The décor is almost science fiction with how clean and pale it is.
Dario spots me first. He’s leaning against the wall, a glass of whiskey in his hand. When he sees me, he pushes away from the wall, his eyes widening. Does he know? Helookslike he knows.
Leo sees me a second later. He’s wearing a casual pale blue shirt, matching the color of one of his eyes and the fabric hugging his muscular build. It takes a lot of effort not to relive vividly the moment I pushed my face against his chest, cried, vented my sadness, and he was there comforting me, my man.
Forever. That’s what he said.
“The more, the merrier,” Dario quickly says, walking over to me. “Emma, it’s nice to see you again. All grown up now.”
I cringe, his awkwardness all but confirming it. When I glance at Leo, I can also read it in the darkness of his brown eye.
“Nice to see you too, Dario.”
“I’ll let the chef know,” Leo says, leaving the room and runningagain.
“Is it okay, Uncle Dee?”
Dario grins. “Of course it is. She’s your best friend. We’re happy you’re here, Emma. You’re always welcome. Would either of you like a drink?”
“A couple of sodas?” Rosa says, glancing at me.
“That sounds fine.”
Dario leaves almost like he wants to run away too like he can’t bear to exist in the unease.
“Just us, then,” Rosa jokes. “Let’s sit down.”
We sit on the couch, Rosa interlacing her fingers when Dario returns, throwing him a look.
“Something wrong, Rosa?” he asks, returning to his original position. It’s like he can’t ever sit still.
Where theheckis Leo? Newsflash, self. I shouldn’t care.
“N-no,” she says. “Just-just last night, did you, um, do anything?”
Dario knows what she’s referring to. Matvei.
“I did, Rosa,” he says gruffly, then knocks back his glass of whiskey, “and I’d do it again. The things he would’ve done to you…”
“Yes, yes,” Rosa says, nodding. “I know. Thank you. Sorry. Yes, where’s Dad?”
“I don’t know. Maybe hiding.” Dario makes for the door again. “Let me go find him.”
“Andmore whiskey, I bet.”
Dario chuckles. “Don’t be so puritanical.”
“That was hypocritical, right?” Rosa says once he’s left the room.
“What?” I ask, confused.
