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“There’s still a glimmer of hope for us, I think,” I say, rubbing where she hit me.
“Luca Russo. An affair? Really?!” She slams her palm on the counter next to her glass.
“Shh.” I flick my eyes towards the stairs.
“I put up with a lot from you. I turn a blind eye at your antics. But this, watching you throw away your chance at love, is breaking my heart, son.”
“I can’t find a way to have it all, Mom.” Shrugging my shoulders, I take another long drink of the biting liquor.
She steps towards me and her wrinkly hand grabs mine.
“Then you choose what will make you happy. That’s all you can ask for out of life, love, and happiness.” Her eyes brim with tears and a lump forms in my throat as I watch.
“Just think about it, really think about what or who you want. I want more grandbabies preferably. All I want is to see my sons living the lives they always dreamed of, the lives they never imagined when they were fighting to survive on the streets.”
I wrap my arms around her frail frame, my emotions getting the better of me.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, son.” She squeezes me.
And I know what I have to do.
I have to pick my heart.
“Come on, let’s get you away from the bitch. Do you have some of that garlic chicken at home?”
She chuckles and pulls back.
“No, but you can help me make it today.” She pins me with a stare.
“Fine, if I must.”
“You know, me and Dom used to cook together every night. His cooking was far better than mine. I learned everything you love from that man.”
I smile down at her and wrap my arms around her shoulders as we walk to my car, thinking about how me and Rosa would cook together in my kitchen. That damn smile on her face when she finally nailed that carbonara recipe. When I came home, the kitchen was a complete whirlwind, oil splattered up the tiles. Rosa’s cheeks were flushed with pure concentration on her face and her lips pursed as she grated the parmesan on the top.
It was perfect.
“What are you smiling like a damn idiot about?” she asks before I shut her door.
“Nothing.” I shake my head.
* * *
I rollup to the warehouse and check the time, I’m only half an hour late to meet the commissioner. It took longer than expected at Mom’s. She only had half the ingredients, so we had to go shopping first. All she talked about was Rosa. And her pure hatred for Maria. According to my mom, she has a bad aura.
The door squeaks as I push it open, stacks of wooden pallets line the sides of the warehouse as I walk through towards the office.
Commissioner O’Reilly is sitting at the desk, tapping his pen against his whiskey glass, watching the clock tick up on the wall.
“Sorry I’m late.” I salute him.
“You’re lucky I have a day off today, boy. This had best be important. My daughter is taking me to the shooting range today.” He isn’t in his formal blues today, but a pair of khakis and a dark polo. He almost looks like a regular person.
“Can your daughter out shoot you?” She must be good. I know some of those ribbons he wears on his uniform are for marksmanship.
“Almost.” He flashes a smug smile as he leans back.
