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Constantino chuckles, a low rumble that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "If you knew how I've been scraping by, you'd know fancy's the last thing from my mind."
"Scraping by?" I tuck my legs beneath me, curious despite myself. It's not like Constantino to play things close to the chest, not when it comes to his own rough-and-tumble stories.
He leans back against the wall, his green gaze fixed on some point over my shoulder. "After Charlie... after I killed him, Icouldn't stay. They would've put a bullet in me for taking out a made man, regardless of my reasoning."
My heart thumps louder, a dull echo in the silent room. I take another sip to steady myself, the bite of the whiskey less shocking now.
"Where did you go?"
"South America," he says. "Thought my old man had people there who could help. Turns out, I was wrong."
"Wrong?" My voice catches, a mix of pity and disbelief. "How'd you survive?"
"Survived the way I always do." He runs a hand through his dark hair, and I notice the faintest tremble in his fingers. "Had some cash on me, and when that ran dry, I fought. Bare-knuckle brawls, underground rings—wherever there was money to be won."
"Jesus." The image of him, bloodied and bruised, swinging fists for scraps of survival, it unsettles me more than I want to admit.
"Why come back?" I ask, my grip tightening around the bottle. "Why risk everything after finding a way to live?"
"Teddy," he replies simply, his expression hardening. "He said he needed me. And despite everything, I couldn't turn my back on family."
Family. The word echoes in my skull, a reminder of loyalties that run deeper than blood, deeper than comfort. It's a world I understand, a world that's shaped both of us into these jagged pieces that only seem to fit when pressed together in the dark.
"Looks like we both got our share of battles, huh?" I say, trying to lighten the mood, but my laugh sounds hollow even to my own ears.
"Looks like," he agrees.
The warmth from the whiskey slithers down my throat, a liquid serpent coiling in my stomach. I hand the bottle back tohim, and he takes it without a word, eyes fixed on some far-off memory.
"Despite everything, you're still loyal," I say, my voice softer than intended. "Maybe that's something I admire."
He smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? So you do like me?"
"Don't get cocky. I said maybe one thing." The heat creeps up my cheeks, and I'm not sure if it's from the drink or the way he's looking at me. Maybe both.
"Alright, your turn," he presses, the playfulness fading into seriousness. "Spill it, little rabbit. You won't dodge this bullet."
I hesitate, rolling the words around in my mind like dice before letting them fall. "What do you want to know?"
"Whatever you're willing to share," he says, leaning back against the wall, his green eyes holding mine.
With a sigh, I begin unraveling a thread of my past. "There was a boy in college," I start, watching the curiosity light up his face. "We were... inseparable. Friends first, then more."
"Let me guess, his family didn't approve?" Constantino guesses, and there's a hint of bitterness in his tone that feels all too familiar.
"Spot on," I say, forcing a laugh. "They had their own vision of the perfect daughter-in-law. Apparently, I didn't fit the bill."
"Idiots," he mutters, taking another swig. "You're smart, capable. It doesn't make sense."
"Sense is a luxury when it comes to old money and old names." I shrug, and my thoughts drift to the wedding—the empty rows where his family should have been. "We decided to go through with the wedding, even though none of his family agreed to attend."
His gaze sharpens, as if he's seeing the scene through my eyes. "Did it bother you? That they weren't there?"
"Back then, I thought it didn't matter. As long as we were happy, right? As long as we had each other." My fingers trace thepatterns of the worn carpet beneath us, memories mingling with the present, forming a tapestry of what-ifs.
"Right," he echoes, his voice a quiet rumble in the room.
The silence stretches between us, thick with confessions yet to be made, and for a fleeting moment, I feel less alone in the twisted labyrinth of our shared darkness.
