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My voice comes out breathless. “What?” I scoot my chair to the side, putting space between us. My first, incoherent thought is,Not Angelo. Please, no. “Who’s dead?”
He flexes and clenches his fingers. “Teresa and Adeline.”
I blink. “Who?”
“Angelo’s mother and sister,” he says through clenched teeth.
Shock slams like a fist into my stomach. The punch steals my air. “W-What?”
Pain glitters cold and hard in his gaze. Anger makes it sharp. “Car accident.”
“Oh my God.” The metal of the armrests is cold under my palms. “When?”
“An hour ago.”
An hour ago.
The statement is like a blade slicing through my heart. It’s too fresh, too terrifying. Too raw. I can’t imagine how Angelo must feel. Enemy or not, this isn’t what I want for him. Or for anyone.
“I didn’t know he had a sister,” I say, thinking out loud.
“His twin,” Roch says, the words strangled.
Histwin? I can’t imagine losing Mattie or Ryan. Coldness settles in my body. I feel sick. How did I not know he had a twin?
Oh, Angelo.
How does anyone cope with such a tragedy?
“I thought you should know,” Roch says, trying to force an impersonal tone, but his brutal emotions come through in his voice.
Turning on his heel, he stalks away.
Long after his footsteps have faded, I’m still sitting there. I haven’t lost anyone close to me. I hope I never do, because I feel awful. Haunted and tormented. For a man I don’t even like.
My hand shakes as I reach for the phone in my bag—the one Angelo gave me—and wake up the screen. There are no messages. There haven’t been any since June last year.
Why didn’t he let me know?
Then again, why would he?
Pain is private.
Why would he share something so intimately hurtful with a person who hates him? Not that he doesn’t hate me too. The only thing he loves where I’m concerned is tormenting me. Letting me know about his grief doesn’t serve that purpose.
I remain there until the day has gone dark, searching for the right words, but I can’t come up with anything appropriate. No language can communicate what I want to say, how sorry I am that this happened to his family. To him.
Finally, I settle for simply,I’m sorry for your loss.
ChapterTwo
Angelo
The house is brimming with people wearing black. Everyone is here—my uncles and cousins, people who served with my mother on charity boards, friends of my sister from university, our business associates, and a shitload of others I don’t know.
They sip the drinks my mother imported for the wedding and nibble on the refreshments Heidi prepared while talking in hushed tones. Every now and again, a name drops. My mother’s. My sister’s.
I should say my late mother and sister. It takes getting used to.
