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Julian’s gaze drifts over his shoulder toward the door.

“Thank you, Betty,” I say, rushing out the words.

I push Julian closer to the booth, stopping him from changing his mind. The uncertainty on his face tells me he’s wondering if this was a mistake.

“What can I get you to drink?” Betty asks.

“I’ll have a water,” I say with a smile.

Julian holds up two fingers. “Make that two.”

“Got it!” Betty skips away.

Julian makes himself comfortable, and I slide into the booth, across from him. He’s quiet as I glance to the right, noticing the photos.

The largest one is of his family. They’re sitting in this same booth with a deep-dish pizza in front of them. In the photo, Julian is squeezed in the booth with Melissa, Damien, and a boy I don’t recognize.

I tap the photo. “Who’s that?”

“My cousin Nuncio. Betty’s older brother.” He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, smoothing his hand over his jaw. “He’s dead.”

My heart drops in sadness. “I’m so sorry.”

“His death is what broke my mother and Aunt Belinda’s relationship. It’s why we’re no longer the large family we used to be.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“He died on my sixteenth birthday.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “Vincent threw me a party at some club. Nuncio and I snuck in the back alley to smoke a cigarette. Out of nowhere, a car pulled into the alley and started shooting. I jumped behind the dumpster, but Nuncio was too slow. A bullet hit him in the chest, and he died three hours later.”

Reaching out, I rest my hand over his. His arm tenses, as if he’s debating pulling away, but he doesn’t.

“Did they find out who did it?” I ask.

“Some asshole my father had banned from the casino. Fucker is dead now.” He squares his shoulders back in the booth. “After Nuncio’s death, my aunt Belinda begged my mother and father to leave the Mafia life. When my father refused, she told my mother to leave him. Not that she disliked my father—she loved him—but because she was scared for their lives. They offered him a stake in the pizzeria even, but he would never turn his back on the Lombardis. My aunt said she’d no longer put her family in harm’s way and stopped coming around. The only time my mother saw her was when she and my father came here. Other than that, it was like they no longer existed in each other’s world.” His face turns almost vacant. “The rest of my mother’s family walked away from her too. It was either she chose them or my father. She chose him.”

Her choice was her death.

I know that’s what Julian is thinking.

I lean in closer, softening my tone. “How long has it been since you’ve been here?”

“Eight years.”

“It really is you!”

I look away from Julian to find a petite woman, with frizzy hair and bright purple lipstick, strolling toward us.

“When Betty told me you were here, I almost didn’t believe it,” she adds when she reaches us. She motions for Julian to stand. “Now, you get your butt up and give me a hug.”

Julian isn’t even all the way to his feet when she wraps him in a tight hug.

“There he is!” A man comes up behind them, wearing an apron with a pizza wearing headphones on it, and slaps Julian on the back. “About time you came here. We’ve missed you and your brother coming up here, eating all the pizza and telling me how I could make pizzas better.” He shakes his head and winks. “Smart-mouthed kids.”

Julian shakes his head, a crack of a smile on his lips. “It’s nice to see you, Aunt Belinda and Uncle Mick.”

“And who is this pretty thing?” Belinda scoots in closer to me, resting her hip against the table.

“My wife,” Julian says, laying his soft eyes on me, “Genesis.”