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Marco: Maybe she’ll drown.
My eyes widened.
Marco: Sorry. I should’ve kept that one to myself.
I didn’t know what to type. I wanted to tell him that I missed him, that I wanted to be with him, that I hurt for him.
My phone vibrated with an incoming call. My heart skipped a beat as his name flashed on the screen.
“Hello.”
“I don’t wish your mother dead.” He sighed into the phone. “Especially on the day I buried my father. And please, I don’t say that to elicit a condolence.”
I breathed in courage and exhaled my insecurities. “I miss you.”
“Tell me something no one knows about you.”
His voice seeped into me. I leaned back on the cushion. “I don’t have secrets.” None that I could share.
“We all have secrets, topolina. I’ll go first,” he said.
Through the phone, I heard the creak of leather. I tried to imagine where he was, maybe a library with dark woods and the scent of books and brandy saturating the room.
“On the estate, there’s an outbuilding with no windows, one door, and the walls are soundproof. When I was twelve, I followed my father to the building.”
Erin arranged the dresses, not a ball gown in sight, as I listened to Marco.
“I’d been warned a thousand times to stay out. Obedience was the first lesson my father tried to teach me, and the hardest for me to learn. This time, there was no soldier guarding the door. I directly disobeyed my father and went inside.” His voice grew quieter, huskier. Warmth seeped into my chest as I focused on the cadence of his words.
“I followed the voices. I was terrified, but I wanted to show my father I was ready to be a soldier for the family. Then one day, I’d be a capo.”
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Erin stood in front of the dresses, organized by style. Mermaid, A-line, and fit and flares. Some had sheer lace while crystals adorned others.
No, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to try on dresses while this man struggled to stay strong under the weight of his grief. “Marco, one second.”
“No, I can let you go,” he said with a note of dejection. “We’ll talk later.”
“I’ll be back in just a moment,” I said to Erin. “Mom, will you please get Erin a drink, and then get Deidre. I’d like her to be here while I try on the dresses.”
I walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
“I’m here, Marco,” I said and sat on the settee. “What happened in the building?”
“You should be trying on dresses.”
I leaned back in the chair, closed my eyes, and listened to the deep tone of his voice. “Tell me what happened.”
“A man was strapped to a chair, begging for his life. He’d confessed to dealing cocaine out of one of my father’s clubs. His face was wet with tears and blood. I remember wondering if he cried because he was hurt or if he cried because he was afraid. I knew I’d never cry like that.”
I heard ice cubes clink and then a swallow.
“My father saw me at the doorway. After he made the other soldiers leave the room, he handed me his gun. I remember the weight of it, the grip sticky in my palm. My fingers trembled. He put the man’s life in my hands.”
“Did you spare his life?” I didn’t need to ask. I knew the answer because he was telling me the story.
“I pulled the trigger.”
Silence stretched between us.
