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“It's interesting being a parent, isn't it? You have to teach them lessons, you have to make sure they know right from wrong, but you also have to encourage them to be who they are. You have to build them up and teach them about the world in a way that doesn't break their spirit."
"Yeah," I agree.
I want to do this with her. I want a woman by my side who understands this, who shares my value system, who knows that family is the greatest gift we have, and love makes all the pain bearable.
I want to live life with her.
It’s time.
I swallow. "I have something to tell you."
How she reacts to the next bit of news is going to determine whether the two of us can do exactly what I want to. Live life together. Can she accept me for who I am given what I’ve done to her?
"Yes?"
I draw in a breath, and I let it out slowly.
"I haven't been completely honest with you."
A little furrow forms between her brows. She's troubled, obviously. I don't blame her. How would I react in her situation?
"I was not in Italy when I told you that I was." I take another sip of wine, but it doesn't help my mouth, which still feels dry.
I can hardly speak, because I've never been so afraid to tell anyone the truth in my life.
"I was at Bella Notte the night your husband died."
She stares at me, with a look on her face that’s part shock, part anger. "What? Why didn't you tell me that before?" I hate this feeling, but I must tell her the truth. I have to let her hear it from me, not somebody else.
"I promised my brothers I wouldn't tell anyone. Sergio moved heaven and earth to make sure that no one knew I was there that night. And this is how it happened. This is how I got to know you. Because I was the one that hit your husband. He fell, and he hit his head. I did not mean to do it, Dani. He was attacking my brother, and I defended Timeo. Nick fell and hit his head, and you know the rest."
"You what?" she asks. “You hit him?"
She's staring at her daughter’s dad’s murderer. It makes me feel sick.
"I hate violence. You know I do."
She nods but doesn't say anything else.
"I would've told you sooner, but Sergio made me promise I wouldn't. As it is now, I'm gonna have to tell him that I told you the truth. But he's met you."
"And why do you answer to Sergio?" she asks in a tight voice. Her hands tremble.
"Because he's the Don of my family."
“Oh," she says in a little voice." That's right. You told me that."
"This isn't the way I wanted to tell you." I wish that she would say something, anything, to give me a clue as to what she's thinking. I want to put this behind us, but I also need to serve my penance for keeping one of the most important things I should've told her hidden.
"Is that why you brought stuff to my house?" she asks. "You killed my husband, so you felt guilty."
I nod. "It was an accident, Dani.” I need her to know this part of it. “I hit him. He fell and hit his head." I shake my head. “When I found out that he had a wife and a kid… you gotta understand where I was coming from, having just lost Martina. I felt like a total douche."
She swallows, hard, and I can tell she's wrestling with this.
"I hear what you're saying," she says, shaking her head. "But Ricco, I need…" She doesn't finish the sentence. She chokes on her words, her hand clasping her throat.
"I can't breathe," she says. I recognize the signs of an anxiety attack right away. Martina had them when she went through chemo, and I know what to do. The only problem is, she needs to trust me.
I reach for her hand. "Hold my hand," I tell her. "Breathe." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
"I need to go home," she says, her voice wobbly. "Please don't follow me. Please don't have me followed. I need…” She takes another deep breath. "I need space to breathe."
It feels like a nail in the coffin.
I need space.
I need a break.
I need some time.
I met someone else.
The first gasp for air when someone's drowning.
"Of course.”
I thrust too much money into the waiter’s hand. The valet brings the car around, but Dani shakes her head.
"Sarah is coming to get me. Don't drive me home. I don't want you to follow me. I don't want you to reach out to me. Don't talk to me, Ricco."
It would've been so much worse if she found out from someone else what happened. She had to hear it from me. This had to happen if there's any chance of us lasting. I couldn't hide the truth forever. But God, I wish I could have, not because it feels so shitty, telling her the truth, but because I hate that my actions caused her pain.
