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“Will do.” Hugo looked at me the entire time, trying to figure out what I was doing. “Come on, Monster, let’s get a seat in the back. The chorus is about to start.”
“You should stay with your family.”
“You are part of the family, jackass.”
When he didn’t move, I started pushing him to the end of the nave and stuffed his huge body in the back pew, where only a couple of elderlies were seated, and they were too preoccupied reading a prayer book to pay any attention to us.
“Feeling better here?” I asked with a smile.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Isn’t this church beautiful?”
He looked around him for the first time, studying the ceiling of the nave, the tall columns of white marble and the details in the stained glass. A shred of admiration settled on his face.
“It’s a nice building, yes.”
“I’m glad mom chose to come here instead of that small church near the Brooklyn house. I’ve only been to St. Patrick’s a couple of times, but I think it’s my favorite.”
Hugo gave me a side look.
“You have strong feelings about this church, huh?”
“I’m Italian-catholic. I have strong feelings for all churches, but yeah. I like Gothic Revival architecture. Maybe Gino should think about getting married here.” He shifted uncomfortably when I brought up the wedding.
I wanted to ask what was wrong, but the sweet sound of the choir plunged into the words of a Christmas carol, cutting me off. To my surprise, Hugo was very drawn in by what was happening, and a peaceful grimace touched his features. The moments when he was like this, content and not haunted by his demons, were rare and far between, and while everyone in the church was looking at the choir, I was looking at him. I memorized the way his forehead smoothed out when that persistent frown disappeared and how his shoulders settled down without the tension.
Unconsciously, I put my hand on his leg, and I regretted it when he snapped out of his tranquility and looked at me.
“It’s good to see you relaxed, Monster.”
“Then put your hand away. It’s not helping.”
Oh, really? A few words thrown my way was all it took for my mind to wander to a very blasphemic place. Looking around to check that everyone was too caught up in their own thing, I anchored my nails in his thigh and watched his body stiffen up.
“Cat,” he warned.
“What?” I fluttered my lashes at him like an innocent damsel. “I miss touching you. It’s been so long.”
“Catherinelle, your mother is right in front of you, and you are in church.”
“Exactly,” I whispered back. “I can’t lie in the house of God. I miss you.”
“I…” Hugo shook his head, looking defeated. “Me too.”
“Hug me.”
He sneaked his arm around my waist, careful to not be seen if someone was looking our way. From the outside, anyone would have just seen me leaning on his shoulder and listening to service. With every breath he took in, I could feel his chest rising up and down, and the most uplifting feeling washed over. I didn’t remember ever being so happy on Christmas, not even when dad bought me a pony when I was seven, not even six years ago when Gino was acquitted of his gun trafficking charges.
The entire day faded in a mist of beatitude. Even if I couldn’t be with Hugo the way I wanted, he was there. After church, mom rushed us home to feed us lunch and then we had carolers coming over, a group of local children that went home with all the cash in Gino’s pockets and huge baskets of sweets that my mother wrapped for them.
After lunch, the guys started a game of pool that got serious really fast when Roman bet his Ferrari Berlinetta. Mom and Muse were in the kitchen, ready to fire dinner, but I was mesmerized by Hugo stretching over the pool table like a lion ready to strike. The two other men turned to shadows in the background. I could have stayed there and watched him forever if mom wouldn’t have needed help to fold the Cassatelle di Agiara, and I couldn’t say no because they were my favorite sweets.
