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“Yeah.” He holds my gaze. The intensity staring at me makes me fully aware of everything about him.
His height, his broad shoulders, his smoky gaze.
I force myself to pull away, staring at the huge TV on the wall. It’s beautiful but it’s missing the personal touch. “No pictures?”
Marcello shakes his head. "No."
“No girlfriend? No kids?”
“No. Just me and my parents.”
“Do they live here?”
“No, they’re in Italy. I grew up there but came to New York to start a business with my cousin, Giorgio. Business got bigger than we expected, so I stayed. I can’t live too close to them.” He walks to the window, parting the curtain and staring outside.
“Why?”
He turns back to me. “I don’t want to get them killed.”
I nod gently and sit on the couch. The cushion envelops me and I could fall asleep here. “Mind if I…”
“Make yourself at home.”
I kick off my shoes and snuggle up to the arm of the couch. “Do you miss Italy?”
A soft smile touches his lips. “Yes, but more so on days like today.”
“What do you miss most?”
“My folks, the food, the music. I once dreamed of being a musician, you know.”
I smile at the thought. “Did you ever record any songs?”
“Yes, I did. But gave up on that dream to chase money.”
The words linger between us. His life isn’t far from my brother’s. Angelo wanted the fast life. He used to laugh at me about my job as a waitress and living off tips. But that fast life of his got him killed in the end.
“My father’s also a musician. He’s talented, but he never earned enough to support a family. I wanted to make a difference—take care of my folks, buy a home one day, maybe even start a family. I got close when Giorgio and I started our business, things went well, and we made a lot of money. Until things started to take illegal turns…”
His Italian accent sounds more pronounced when he speaks of his family and home.
“When was the last time you saw them?”
He shrugs. “Ten years ago, but I still take care of them and we have video calls sometimes.”
“I guess that’s the best you can do, given the situation.”
He leans his back against the wall. “Yeah. They are my responsibility. Who else would do it if I didn’t? I’m their only child.”
“Many people wouldn’t give a damn about their parents even if they were swimming in money.”
“They’re all I got."
I know the feeling. I smile at him. “They're fortunate to have a thoughtful son like you."
“I appreciate the compliment, but money can’t replace being present.”
I don’t have to ask if he misses them. It’s written in his eyes.
