Page 104 of Savage Vows

“That’s no excuse, Matteo,” she interrupts, her tone firm. “Your father was busy too, but he never let it stop him from showing me I mattered. He made time, Matteo. For me, for the family. The Sunday dinners mattered to me. He’d rather have done something else, I’m sure. Work, probably.” She smiles at the memory. “His morning meetings could have been taken away from the house, at the office maybe. But he chose to be here, with me.”

The information shocks me. I always figured his decision had more to do with security than anything.

“We had coffee together every morning. Over thirty years, Matteo.” She nods, clearly remembering. “He tried never to spend the night away from me. Showed up for school events for you kids. We had date nights, before that was actually a thing.” She levels her wise gaze on me. “That’s what kept us strong.”

Her words hit harder than I expect, and I stare into my cup.

“Your wife is a good woman. She stepped up for the family. To make your father happy. He died at peace because of her sacrifice. Your position was stronger at the ascension because of your marriage.”

I wince. “She knows I appreciate it.”

“And does she know you care about her? As a person, not just as someone you married out of a sense of obligation?”

When I don’t answer, she finishes her espresso and refills it. “Your father always showed me that he cared. Gifts—which I didn’t need.”

Her jewelry box is filled, I’m sure. Every holiday, every birthday, Mother’s Day, he gave her extravagant tokens, flowers, trips.

“He selected them all himself. Went shopping.”

I have a hard time picturing that.

“He never left the house without telling me he loved me.”

My father, a hardened Mafia boss, had done that?

Wincing, I remember that I used to serve Alessia coffee in the mornings, and I’d stopped doing that.

“We never went to bed angry with one another. He’d stay up all night if he had to in order to listen to me, to understand.” She blinks back tears. “Our relationship was his biggest priority.”

And I had put my responsibilities to the family ahead of Alessia, even after she married me.

“She didn’t choose this life. If what I hear is true, she didn’t want it.”

My mother is right.

“It’s your job to make it bearable for her. Be her partner. Her rock. The more time you spend together, the better your relationship—and you—will be. Cherish her.”

I’d stopped making love to her, and that morning in the kitchen, when she’d touched me, I’d rebuffed her instead of dragging her into my arms and kissing her reassuringly.

Perhaps unforgivably, I’d gone to the Hill Country without even telling her I was leaving the house or saying when I’d be back.

With remorse, I remember my rage when I got home and found out she was gone.

Yet I’d done something similar to her without even thinking.

“A man needs a firm foundation in order to lead.”

Wise words, I’m sure.

“Think about her, Matteo,” she says softly. “What matters to her. If you want her to stay, you have to show her why she should.”

Her implication stings. Still, I can’t argue. Clearly I’ve failed Alessia.

“Get your house in order and all else will follow.”

Standing, I cross to her and press a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for the advice.”

“Come on Sunday, Matteo. And bring Alessia with you.”