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He raises his hands. “You asked. That’s my personal opinion as a medical professional and not as a psychologist.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out. It’s Uncle Nico.
“Thank you,” I say, getting to my feet.
“I hope that helps with your decision.”
Not really. I know what a good man would do. To be separated from her again doesn’t sit right with me. If the last two years of waiting were hell, the past five months of sleeping alone after I finally had her in a hotel bed were an inferno. I want her close to me, day and night. I want to get these goddamn obstacles out of the way so that I can put that ring I promised her on her finger and tie her to me with a vow and my name.
Don’t you hate me, even a little?
She’s mine. Yet a part of me will always hate her for the blood that flows in her veins. Logically, I know she’s innocent, a pawn caught in a game. Rationally, I understand it’s not her fault that my mother and sister are dead. I hold her accountable for nothing, but I blame her for everything. She didn’t give the order. Edwards did. However, he did it for her. Everything that happened is for her. Because of her.
Maybe my motives aren’t as clear-cut as I pretend them to be. Maybe the part of me that hates her wants to punish her as much as possess her.
My phone vibrates again.
I greet the doctor and take my leave.
Outside, I return Uncle Nico’s call.
“Angelo,” he says in a strained voice. “I have bad news. Your father had a heart attack.”
Fuck. I make my way to the car with big strides. “How serious is it?”
“It doesn’t look good. You know his health issues, how he fell back onto his bad habits after your mother—”
“Tell him to hold on.” I get into the car. “I’m on my way.”
Dumping the phone on the passenger seat, I start the engine. My heart pounds in my chest as I race to the hotel.
As it turns out, circumstances once again took the question of what to do with Sabella out of my hands.
ChapterFifteen
Sabella
Iknock on Mom’s door on Friday morning. It’s early, but she’s awake. I heard her sniffling when I went downstairs to make coffee.
“Come in,” she calls.
I enter and close the door behind me. She stands in front of the mirror, studying her reflection.
“I brought coffee.” I leave the steaming mug on her dresser. “I thought you might need some.”
Her smile is automatic. “Thanks.”
The black knee-length dress and A-line jacket look good on her. She dyed her roots and blow-dried her short hair to give it volume. A fashionable hat is pinned on her head and a net attached to the front hides the puffiness of her eyes. The color of her lipstick is a natural pink instead of Mattie’s bright red.
“I hate that I have to worry about how what I wear is going to look in the media photographs,” she says. “I feel like I’m putting on a show instead of taking time alone to deal with everything.”
“You are putting on a show,” I say gently. “All eyes will be on us today. After that, we’ll mourn in private.”
“I still can’t believe he’s gone.” Her bottom lip quivers. “What he did… It seems unreal. It’s not fair that everyone is sticking their noses in our private lives. It’s not fair that he left me to do this alone.” Bitter, angry tears glitter in her eyes. “How could he subject me to this humiliation? And the way he died… How am I supposed to live with that?”
Not knowing what else to do, I wrap my arms around her. “We’ll get through this.”
She soaks up the hug for a moment before pushing me away. Pride makes her back stiff. Anger is the mask she adopts to hide her moment of weakness. “My whole life with him was make-believe. Nothing that came out of his mouth was true.” Her expression hardens. “Lies are all he gave me, and betrayal is the only thing he left me with.”
