Page 55 of The Temptation

“I’m lucky to have you too. And I’m serious, I’m here for you. I know you’ve got theFamiglia, but I’m gathering they don’t see the sides of you that I do. You’ve been handed a raw deal, Romeo. You deserve better.”

He gives me a quiet nod, then lets go of my head and shifts back to his side of the car.

“My mum deserved better too.”

“Your mother made her own choices. That’s not on you. You said it yourself, you didn’t ask to be born.”

“Yeah ... I guess.”

“It’s true. You’ve given that woman way more chances than she deserves. You’ve never mentioned your dad … is he still in your life?”

“He died before I was born. My mum didn’t like talkingabout it, but from the little I know, he crashed his motorbike with her on the back. She was pretty badly injured … her leg got fucked up. That’s how her addiction to pain meds started.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She found out she was pregnant with me when she was in the hospital. Her parents—my grandparents—wanted her to terminate me; when she didn’t, they disowned her.”

“How sad.”

“She once told me she only kept me because I was all she had left of him. Not because she wanted a kid or because she loved me. I was just a reminder of the man she lost. A souvenir.”

I swallow hard. “Oh, Romeo …”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but his eyes say otherwise. “It is what it is. She did what she could. But love and nurturing weren’t in the cards. She often referred to me as a ghost when she was high. I’m not even sure what she meant by that, but I can only assume it was because I reminded her of him.”

“Still,” I murmur. “No kid deserves to grow up like that.”

His jaw tightens as he gazes out the window. “She never really let me forget that I ruined her life. That if it weren’t for me, she could’ve moved on. Gotten clean. Been someone else.”

My throat tightens. “That’s not on you.”

“Maybe not. But when someone tells you something enough, it starts to sound like the truth.”

I reach out, my fingers wrapping around his. “That’s not your truth, Romeo. You didn’t ruin her life. She made her choices. You just survived them.”

He squeezes my hand, finally meeting my eyes. There’ssomething broken behind his calm. Not a crack, but a whole damn fracture that’s been there too long.

“She once said that every time she looked at me, she saw the wreck. The blood. The loss. She didn’t see a son, just a mistake that kept breathing.”

“You’re not a mistake,” I say quietly. “You’re the best thing to come out of her mess.”

He lets out a sharp breath, like he’s trying to laugh but can’t quite manage it. “Do you actually believe that?”

“I do,” I say, because it’s the truth.

His life could’ve turned out so differently, but he made the best of a bad situation and flourished.

A long silence stretches between us, heavy and bitter. Then he leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. “You keep saying shit like that,” he mutters in a rough voice, “and I might actually start believing you.”

His confession has me making a mental note to do just that. I’m going to make it my daily mission to remind this man just how wonderful he is.

Changing the subject, I say, “You messed up her boyfriend pretty bad; it was awesome.”

He chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you a priest taught me how to fight?”

“Really? A priest?”

“I went to a Catholic school. My uncle paid for my tuition because my mother sure as hell couldn’t. That’s where I met Dante. We went to the same school. I was the poor kid with a junkie mother, easy pickings for the stuck-up rich pricks who thought I didn’t belong. I got bullied. A lot.”