Page 48 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

P resent. The room stole her heart. Her face—everywhere. Hundreds of versions covered every surface, overlapping like memories that refused to die. Kathy stood paralyzed as her eyes adjusted to thirty years of obsession rendered in pencil and charcoal.

Carmelo hunched over at his drafting table, shirtless, his back to her. Coltrane's saxophone wailed through the speakers. The sound masked her entrance. His shoulders rolled with each violent stroke, muscles shifting beneath scarred skin.

She eased the door shut and ventured deeper into his privacy.

Though her face dominated the walls, she recognized others—men she'd never met, his mother's eternal disappointment, Nino's gentle smile.

And Sandy. Their daughter at every age, from toddler to woman.

Each drawing a stolen year, a moment he'd invented to fill the void from the constant wars they waged against each other.

One sketch stopped her cold.

Sandy, small and still in a hospital bed.

Him, a shadow behind glass, barred from entering.

That day rushed back to her with the force of a tsunami—their daughter hit by a car, Kathy wild with grief, screaming blame at him and then herself.

Your fault. Always your fault. She'd wielded her own internal guilt like a weapon, never letting him forget the mistakes they made.

Had she created her monster? Was his madness her?

The realization struck—they'd both been archivists of ruin. Her journals downstairs, his drawings up here. Thirty years of parallel obsession, documenting what they'd destroyed. Preserving the truth while living the lie.

She approached on silent feet, hand hovering over his bare spine. On the paper, her face surfaced with each savage stroke—captured perfectly, loved terribly.

She touched him.

Carmelo froze mid-stroke.

"Don't be angry, I'm here." Her voice was soft and calming. "Please. I just needed to find you."

He remained still. Not breathing. Afraid to turn and see her vanish.

"I love you." The confession tore from her throat. "I've always loved you. And I see what that love has cost you. God, Melo, I'm sorry."

He spun and took hold of her, crushed her against him, face buried in her stomach. She cradled his head as his shoulders heaved—this broken boy who'd spent decades drawing ghosts.

"Don't leave me." Carmelo’s voice was muffled against her. Raw with old terror. "Not again."

"Never." She held him tighter. She kissed the top of his head. “I’ll never leave you again."

But even as the words left her lips, they both knew—some promises came too late to resurrect the dead.

Butts, Mississippi, 1952

Two weeks after Memphis, and still his memory clung to her.

Kathy locked the schoolhouse, her students long gone into the fading afternoon.

She would have to run errands before reaching home.

It was three miles to town for Big Mama's medicine—a walk she'd once never needed to make when Ely was her protector before she'd torn his heart out in 1950, telling him plain that Carmelo owned her soul.

Now Ely had found his own love, and she couldn't even meet his eyes at church.

Her hand drifted to the slight swell beneath her dress.

Time was running out. Soon everyone would know—another disappointment for her parents, another scandal for the gossips.

She pushed the thought away. Especially the one of the church that funded the school.

They would fire her and cast out Big Mama for her being a harlot.

The long walk started uneventfully. With the sun lowering in an hour or so, she dreaded the walk back in the dark and silently prayed to see someone who could give her a ride home.

The engine's roar shattered her peace.

She looked up to see the car barreling down the dirt road toward her.

Too fast for these parts. Dust clouds billowed, and she stepped off the road as it zoomed by, then slammed on the brakes.

Her body knew before her mind—danger. She darted toward the tree line, but doors flew open and two white men poured out, running hard.

Italian voices shouted her name.

Kathy dropped everything and ran faster.

The forest could hide her—she knew every root, every hollow.

But they were determined, faster. Hands grabbed her arms, her waist. She fought wild, remembering too late the life inside her.

They took her blows without hitting back, just holding, restraining, and dragging her to the car.

They shoved her into the back seat. One collected her scattered belongings while another slid in beside her, speaking rapid Italian to the driver. She pressed herself into the corner, as far from them as the seat allowed.

The abandoned barn materialized like a bad dream. And there was Matteo, walking toward them—Jesus Christ, his face. One eye swollen shut, bandaged. His handsome face twisted by the violence heaped upon him.

"Hi, Kathy."

She said nothing.

"He wants to talk to you."

"Take me home, Matteo." Her voice was steel. "You swore he'd leave me alone if I helped in Memphis. I did my part.”

He climbed into the car and sat beside her. Up close, the damage was worse—lumps distorting his features, bruises mapping violence across his skin.

"What happened to you?” she asked.

“It was all in the papers. You should have heard about what happened after the fight?” he asked, curious.

“I don’t read the papers anymore. He’s in the them. And I don’t want to know anything about him.”

“Well, you’re right. He’s in them. It was Melo who attacked me.” His tone was flat. "This is what happened when I tried to keep him from going after you."

Her stomach dropped. She looked away, then back over at him, stunned that Melo would hurt the brother he worshipped. “He did this?"

"You have to help me here. He's in a bad state, Kathy.

Worse than before. Can't control him. And he won’t go back to New York.

Hell, my father approved this visit to calm him down.

That's how far gone he is." Matteo's good eye found hers. "He says he wants closure, but... we both know he’s lying. He wants you. And I’m trying to protect you both from each other. He's different now that you ended it.”

"I don't want to see him. You can't make me go through this over and over because of his wants. What about what I want!!”

"I'm sorry." He grabbed her arm. "But you don't have a choice."

She fought, but Matteo hauled her out of the car and half walked, half dragged her to the barn door despite her struggles. He released her there, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands.

"I won't let him hurt you,” Matteo said, lowering his gaze. I swear it on Junior’s life. “But I have to help my brother. He’s all I’ve got left in the world. He's only hurting himself. He loves you. You’re safe.”

"This isn't love! Can't you see that? It never was!” she protested.

Matteo took a long drag and exhaled slowly. "I only got one good eye, so I can't see much."

"When will this stop? What do I have to do to make him go away for good?”

"Don't know. If Debbie ran from me with my kids… I wouldn’t stop.” He shrugged. "Maybe you can end it properly. Make him understand. Or lie to him, and give us more time to get him some help. We’ll take him to the priests in Italy if we have to.”

Her hand ghosted over her belly, dropping before he noticed. She pushed through the barn door.

And there he was.

The sight of him hit like a physical blow.

Love and terror tangled in her chest, stealing her breath.

He looked beautiful. If a man could be considered that.

He was dressed in a tailored suit as if he had groomed himself for his return.

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with the same adrenaline attraction she had felt for him when they parted.

Every fiber in her body wanted to launch herself at him for him to catch her.

Have him kiss her and hold her. To feel his strong arms around her, keeping her protected as his girl.

Kathy closed the barn door slowly behind her.

He rushed toward her. She stumbled back as the euphoria lifted. Her hands went up in defense. "Don't touch me!"

He froze. Tears shimmered in his eyes to see her afraid of him.

"Let me explain, cara mia ?—”

"I don't want to hear it!"

"Please, Kat. Please." He dropped to his knees, prostrating himself. "I can't live without you. I'll die without you!"

"You're a liar! Just leave me be!”

"It was Mama's suicide, then the marriage—I can explain Maria." He remained on his knees in his nice tailored suit. "I slept on the floor, Kat. I was with you, not her. She says I got drunk, but I know it's a lie. I don't remember, but she had babies and I didn't know what to do?—"

She stared down at him, horrified by his complete dissolution.

"I'm begging you." His face lifted, ravaged by grief and sorrow. "Forgive me. Just this once. Forgive me! I’ll never lie to you again. Never! Can’t I get one more chance?”

"It’s too late, Carmelo. You had your chance. You had three years of chances. You left me to rot while you had another life, a wife, and kids. I had nothing. Not even my family.”

He sobbed.

“I was good to you, Melo. I gave you everything. I suffered for you. And you just took and took and took, leaving me behind,” she said.

“Nooo, no, no,” he wept.

“Do what you always do—leave me here to while you’re their champion. Get out of my life!"

He struggled to his feet, destroyed. “Take it back!”

“No!”

“Take it back!” He shouted at her, enraged. “Take it all back. You know I love you. I survived for you. I will die for you! Take it back!”

“No!”

Hyperventilating and horrified, he stumbled back from her. “Bonano's right. You're poison, Kathy. You're killing me for making one mistake! Just forgive me. I'm dying inside. Please!"

"The boy I loved is already dead. Or never existed." She forced the words past her tears. "So yes, I'm your poison. Now leave me alone!"

She turned to go. He rushed her, spinning her hard against the barn wall.

Her head swam as he trapped her there, his forehead pressed hard to hers.

His lips so close she feared he’d kiss her.

She froze, terrified of provoking worse.

What if she told him her truth? What if he knew about the baby in that moment? What would he do?

His eyes burned into hers with the first sign of rage directed at her that she truly feared for his mental state and her life. "I'll never let you go, Kathy Freeman. Hear me? Never. So bake me one of your killer cupcakes, because that's the only way you escape this."

She found her grandmother, Bessie, in her spine, just like Carmine had warned her to do.

"Come near me again," she said, voice deadly soft, "and I'll feed you the cupcake myself."

He kissed her, forced-kissed her, and to endure it, she had to respond.

She just let him have his goodbye. When he was done, he stroked the side of her face and looked at her with love as if the kiss was proof that nothing had changed.

Then a smile crossed his face as he stepped back, confident he could come for her again when it suited him.

She turned and shoved open the barn door, half expecting him to follow. He walked slowly, stalking her.

Outside, his men formed a loose circle—witnesses to the execution of their love. She stopped cold, looking back at Carmelo. The raw hurt in his eyes had hardened to something worse than hate. Something final and lethal.

Her fingers found the chain at her throat.

The one she'd worn hidden for two years in Butts, close to her heart like a secret prayer.

She yanked hard, the links biting into her neck before snapping free.

The ring—that cheap gold band he'd slipped on her finger in Mama Stewart’s, when they'd believed in forever—caught the late afternoon sun.

She held it up so he could see. So he could remember. Then she hurled it with all her strength toward the tree line, watching it disappear into tall grass and shadows.

"We're done!" The words tore from her throat. “ Capice ?”

He wiped his lips slowly, reminding her of his kiss. Then he winked at her.

She marched to the car, climbed in, and slammed the door. Through the window, she saw Matteo looking to his brother for orders. Carmelo just turned and walked back into the darkness of the barn. Alone.

The ride back was silent until she recognized the bend near Big Mama's road.

"Let me out here."

The car stopped. Matteo followed her out, desperation creasing his battered face. "Kathy! Why can't you forgive him?"

She gathered her things—purse, books, the ordinary pieces of a life he'd never be part of. "Let me ask you something, Matteo. If Debbie had run off with José, gotten pregnant, kept it secret—would you forgive her? Would you forgive me for helping her hide it?"

His head dropped. When he looked up, she saw the truth in his good eye.

"My father wins. You know that, right?" His voice was hollow. "Told Carmelo if he came down here and you wanted him, he was free. Could leave the marriage, the family, everything. But if you rejected him..." He spread his hands. "Then he belongs to the old man. Forever."

The weight of the news crushed what was left of her heart in her chest. Cosimo's final play—using her as the knife to cut his son's last thread of hope.

"There's no going back," Matteo continued softly. "But there's still time to go forward. You just have to forgive him."

Every cell in her body screamed to get back in that car. To run to the barn. To save him from what he'd become without her. But she was done letting her heart lead. Look where it had gotten them.

"It's over." Each word was a nail in a coffin. "Make sure he knows it. Don't come to Butts again. And I'll never go back to New York."

"Goodbye, Kathy,” said Matteo, sadly. “I tried.”

She turned and walked away, refusing to watch them leave. Only when the engine faded to nothing did she stop. Then, quietly, she turned back the way they'd come. She had another destination in mind.