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My eyes dart left and right. How can I tell her the truth? That I don’t think she can handle it.
“I feel that the pressure might be too much for you,” I say at last.
“Perhaps we can put you on accounting or something simpler.”
“Did I make a mistake?” she asks.
“No, Emily,” I say. “But you got involved.”
“Who doesn’t get involved in their work?”
“You got involved ... emotionally. That’s a rule we can’t afford to break. You unraveled last night when you tried arguing about Enzo’s situation.
You need to keep some distance now. Find some perspective.”
“It was just hypothetical,” she screeches, frustrated.
“Do I have to apologize for being human?”
I shake my head, trying to calm her down. “No, Emily. But you need to realize that the mafia isn’t human. In here, there is no empathy, no compassion.”
She shakes her head, looking devoid of faith, disappointed even.
“But what if you were Enzo and I a Lucchese?”
I burst out laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous. That would never happen.”
“Why?” she asks.
“Because if you were, you would never be allowed in my home. This would never have happened. You’re NOT from a mafia family,” I say, banging my hand on the table.
“So stop playing pretend games, and what-if’s because the longer you do that, the more evident it becomes how god damn close you’re to falling apart.”
Emily steps forward, her hands on her hips. “And that’s what this is about, isn’t it? My family, or lack thereof?”
“Yes,” I yell. “Everything comes down to family. God damn it, yes. I mean that this life is dangerous. It’s not a game. You can’t just jump in without thinking about the consequences. You have to protect yourself. And because
you’re not from this world, I must protect you.”
“I can protect myself,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Not against everything,” I say. “Not against the dangers that come with the territory. Not against your own emotions.”
Chapter 22
EMILY
Hiswordsringthroughmy head, and beyond that, I hear nothing.
Everything comes down to family.
If he had known I was a Battaglia, I would never have been allowed into his inner circle.
What we share, whatever that is, would crumble to dust.
I feel numb. Like an athlete in ice water, slowly losing grasp of all warmth, turning robotic, letting the body take over.
He and I, at this moment, seem to be over.
