Page 17

17

Andre

S leeping on the floor is not as fun as I remembered from the sleepovers Creed, Carmine, Tristan, and I had as boys.

In fact, it sucks ass.

My back aches, and my neck is stiff. It’s cooler on the ground than the bed, too, making it impossible for me to get much sleep.

So, when I grab my phone to check the time yet again, and it shows it’s five a.m., I say to hell with it and get up to start my Monday.

A regular, old shitty Monday in the office, since my wife didn’t want a honeymoon.

Not that I would’ve dragged her to some tropical island with her mom in the hospital, but it would’ve been nice to take some time off together.

Since I’m not going to follow her around like a puppy dog for a week, I decide to maintain the status quo and go into the office.

Well, after one quick stop first.

Sanitizing my hands not once but twice because that’s what Stella would demand, I don the disposable mask on my lower face and then grab the elevator.

“Well, look who it is bright and early this morning — my favorite son-in-law and…” Martha Rovina says from her hospital bed. She’s tucked into white sheets, so only her head and hands are showing, and her eyes remain on the doorway as if waiting to see Stella.

“It’s just me for now,” I tell her. “Stella was still sleeping when I left.”

“Oh,” she replies, eyes widening in surprise. After an interruption of a cough that sounds slightly better than it did last night, she asks, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I figured you’d be awake. It’s not easy to sleep in at the hospital.”

“Which is why I’m ready to go home,” she huffs with as much strength as she’s capable. It’s still not much. “And how do you know about hospital mornings?”

“My father suffered a stroke about five years back.”

“Since I don’t recall meeting him at the wedding, I assume he didn’t make it home.”

“He did, after a week. For about a month he was doing well, but then he had another stroke in his sleep…”

“And he didn’t wake up?”

I shake my head as I take a seat in the chair next to the bed on the opposite side of the IV pole and shit the nurses will need access to.

“Well, I’m sorry you lost your father, but I couldn’t think of a better way to go.” After a few solemn, silent minutes, she says, “So, you’re an early bird, huh?”

“I’m an attorney. Most days I’m considered late if I’m not in the office by seven.”

“Then you’re going to be late today,” Mrs. Rovina remarks with a tip of her chin toward the clock on the wall.

“I’m on my honeymoon.”

“The last I heard, honeymoons are supposed to take place somewhere warm, surrounded by sparkling water, not this hellhole.”

I smile. “I’ll take Stella somewhere like that, eventually.”

“After I’m dead and gone, you mean?” She nods without me answering. “A vacation after the funeral will do her good. Her and Cami have been waiting on me for months.”

“I think she’d prefer to keep waiting on you for years to sandy beaches.”

“Too bad it’s not up to her.”

“Where should I take her?” I ask to change the subject from her impeding death.

“Oh, I don’t know. Stella’s always loved Spain — Cala Son Saura, Formentera, a less crowded beach than nearby Ibiza. We’ve only been twice, but she begged us to let her stay when she was seventeen.”

Pulling out my phone, I smile at the thought of a teenage Stella, throwing a temper tantrum because she wanted to live in Spain, while I type the name of the beach into my notes.

“Her favorite flowers are pink and white chrysanthemum, even though white ones are usually funeral flowers.” I add that to my notes too just as she continues, “And she loves to shop. She’ll want a trendy purse for every new outfit. And you better believe she’ll exchange whatever you try to buy her because she’s a picky little thing.” When Martha stops talking, I glance up and meet the sick woman’s knowing gaze. “How is it you don’t know anything about the woman you married?”

“Well, I haven’t…I didn’t…”

“You barely know her, and yet you think you love her. She’s a beautiful girl, but there’s more to her than meets the eye. When you see all her ugliness and still want to be with her, that’s when you’ll know you’re actually in love.”

“How did you know?” I ask her, not about how one knows when they love someone, but the fact I never dated her daughter before our wedding.

“I’m her mother. I can see through every lie my children tell me. And trust me, they tell a lot of lies. Sometimes it’s easier to let them think I believe them. Stella may have married you mostly for me, or for Saint’s financial and political maneuvering, but physical attraction is still enough to light a spark.” After a coughing break, she goes on. “Every lasting relationship needs a certain amount of chemistry or it won’t work. Stella agreed to marry you because she was halfway in love with you based on your handsome looks alone. Not that she’d ever admit it.”

“I’m sorry we lied to you.”

“Don’t be. I’m just happy I got to see one of my children headed on the path toward love. I didn’t think it’d be Stella who fell first. I knew it’d never be Izaiah. He was always too selfish to love anyone but himself, God bless his soul. Saint is even more stubborn than Stella, so it’ll take a while for him to admit when he finds someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with. And Camilla, well, Cami’s the youngest, who just wants to be the center of attention for once. She needs someone to take care of her, to make her feel like the center of the universe because her father certainly never did. That girl would fall in love in a heartbeat. I thought she would’ve found him by now, but Emilio was so protective of her, his little girl. Protective like he was with Stella, but too oblivious to give her what Cami really needed from him — his undivided attention.”

She stops speaking to cover her mouth with the bedding during a coughing spell.

I wonder if the woman has any idea her husband has another little girl, at least one bastard with Creed’s wife Zara, one he made while married to her, cheating on her the first time she got sick.

“Emilio was not the best role model to our sons or our daughters,” Martha says. “Now that he’s gone, I think Saint will be better off. He won’t be strong-armed into being the ruthless mob boss his father tried to make Izaiah and failed because he loved himself and drugs more. Or maybe the drugs were his way to escape his demanding father. Either way, Emilio was right to blame himself for our son’s disappearance.”

Sitting in this hospital room, staring at the widow when I know the truth about how her son died, when I was the one who forced her husband’s hands to split his flesh open and bleed out, I feel like a traitor.

I’ve never owed anyone but Creed, Tristan, and our family my loyalty and honesty. But this woman and Stella already feel like my family, too, now.

As if she knows what I’m thinking, Martha says, “I hope you’ll help Saint find his way in the mafia world.”

“I’m not sure I’m the best person to give him advice.”

“You’re a good man, Andre. A better man than Emilio. Stella, our family, is lucky to have you.”

My throat feels so thick I can barely swallow. She has no clue how wrong she is about me, about the things I did to ruin her family, to cause them pain on behalf of my own.

“Will you just promise me one thing?”

I nod, since I’m incapable of speech. Anything this sweet, dying woman wants I’ll give it to her.

“I know how the mob works, but will you promise me if you ever have to make a choice between your family and Stella that you’ll choose her? Her own brother won’t, and her father never did. My daughters both deserve to have someone who puts them first.”

I nod my head. “I promise to put Stella first. Always.”

“Thank you. Now, if you could find a nice young man to do the same for my Cami, I would appreciate it.”