Page 85 of The Butcher's Wife

“What’s up, creeper?” I ask as Rafa comes in.

Once, I overheard some of Dad’s coworkers calling him their keeper. They were talking about bookkeeping, but they could’ve been calling him a creeper—one can never be certain.

“Shrimp,” he says by way of greeting.

I wait to see if he has a good reason for coming in here, but when he starts doing his Rafa thing and feigning disinterest by picking up and setting back down some of the perfume bottles on Serafina’s dresser, I turn back to the rest of the boxes.

It’s oddly comforting to hear my brother rustling around while I do my own search until I find what I need—my old camera equipment. Spending all that time overlooking the city in Dom’s penthouse has been making me itch for my DSLR. I had a few more pieces, but it looks like Serafina didn’t know they were worth saving. I sigh.

“Do you know where Mom and Dad put my tripod?” I ask, hauling the box with my equipment out of the walk-in closet.

Rafa shakes his head as he peers into a collage of Serafina’s and my pics for our graduation trip to Europe.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask, perched on top of the box.

“I’m moving.”

The statement hits me like a bag of rocks.

“What?” I ask, my voice pitching high.

I know it’s ridiculous to expect Rafa to stay here, especially when I’ve already moved out. He’s twenty-eight. I can’t expect him to live with Mom and Dad forever—although Carlo probably will. Rafa, on the other hand, has moremoney than God. He could afford a nicer place than our parents if he wanted.

I just thought he’d stay.

Rafa exhales, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I stayed for Serafina. Now there’s no point. I’ll stay in town. I just want my own place.”

“For Serafina,” I say, dully.

He gives a short exhale. “You know she needed protecting. She’s delicate.”

“So am I.”

Rafa smirks. “No. You’re tough, sis.”

That takes me by surprise. Has he met me? “It doesn’t mean I didn’t need protecting.”

His smile falls. “Yeah, I know.” He scans over the room again before landing on me. “Dad said you wanted to marry Dom. Is that true?”

I nod.

“Things are good?”

I flush. “Yeah. Really good.”

“Glad to hear. Just so you know, the place I’m moving into? There’ll be a room made up for you. It’ll always be there for you, too. You know, just in case you—oof.”

I cut him short with a tight hug.

“Thanks, creeper.”

“Sure, shrimp.” He rustles my hair, and I step back with a shriek, slapping his hands away. He grins and walks out of the room, leaving it a little brighter than when he came.

I glance back at the boxes in the closet, filled with a new sense of purpose. I’m going to need to get to the bottom of those pills, and I think I have a good idea of where to start.

The door opens gently. Footsteps shuffle in, then the door shuts and locks.

Still smiling, I turn to tease Rafa.