Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“The day they got murdered because of me, yes,” I said, pouring myself another glass. Emma watched but didn’t say anything.
“It’s okay to be sad, you know? Even as a Made Man, it’s okay to be sad to have lost someone.”
Sadness wasn’t at the forefront of my emotions anymore. It hadn’t been in a while. Now it was mainly guilt, regret, and bitterness.
“Mostly, I’m angry with the stupid Samuel of the past,” I admitted after another gulp. Heat spread in my insides, and the numbing effects of the alcohol were becoming apparent.
Emma moved even closer and touched the hand resting on the armrest. “He did what he thought was right. He wanted to protect someone he loved more than anything else.” Her voice vibrated with emotions.
I took a deep gulp, my heart clenching. “And she betrayed me for a man who is incapable of love, a man who kidnapped and brutalized her.” Emotions from the past came up, but I squashed them. Sofia wanted contact with Serafina. Maybe she hoped it would all make sense then, but over the years, every contact with my twin had made her decisions of the past make less sense to me, and it made me regret my own choice all the more.
“Do you want me to come with you when you visit their graves tomorrow? That’s what you’ll do, right?”
“In the afternoon. Their families will visit the graves in the morning. But I don’t think you should come.” It was a deeply personal moment.
Emma curled her fingers around mine. “I might not be able to walk, but I’ll carry your worries as if they’re mine, Samuel. You don’t have to shoulder all the problems by yourself. I’m your wife, and I’m here for you, always.”
I regarded my wife. She obviously wanted to help me. Maybe she needed this even more than I did. I had been pushing her away in the past few weeks—not that I’d allowed her a deep look into my heart before that. I emptied the glass and gave a terse nod. “Maybe then you’ll understand why I feel the way I do.”
Emma smiled, then pried my fingers off the armrest. “Will you come to bed? It’s late.” Her eyes flitted to the now almost empty bottle.
I nodded and got to my feet. I needed to feel and taste Emma to distract myself. The alcohol didn’t do the trick today. Sleep was out of the question anyway.
I returned home in the early afternoon to pick up Emma. She was dressed in a dark blue dress and a cardigan of the same color with very little makeup. Maybe this was her way to pay respects to the dead. I too had chosen a dark suit for once, though I doubted the dead cared what we wore.
We were silent on the ride to the graveyard, and I was glad Emma didn’t try to make small talk. I was on edge, had been all day, and the flask I’d emptied before I’d picked up Emma hadn’t helped in the slightest.
If she could smell the alcohol on me, she didn’t show it. I parked in my usual spot right in front of the south gate entrance. Emma and I followed the fine gravel path I always took, then stopped in front of Arlo’s light gray granite family crypt. It was close to the pathway, so Emma only had to cross a short distance of grass. However, the grass slope was bumpy, so I pushed her the rest of the way until we stood right in front of the pyramid-shaped crypt.
Over the years, the number of flowers put down on the anniversary of their deaths had become fewer, and as I stepped inside the narrow, dark crypt, I didn’t find a single flower on Arlo’s headstone. I put down the white carnations Emma had bought before I’d picked her up.
I shifted to the side so Emma could look inside. The space was too narrow for her. It was the smallest of the three crypts we’d visit today. Arlo’s father had died two years ago during a fight with the Bratva, and his mother had taken her life a few months ago. Now it seemed I was the only one still mourning him. I too only came once a year now.
“I’m sorry, my friend,” I murmured, then motioned for Emma to move back. Together, we left and traveled in silence toward Enea’s family crypt two graves down the aisle.
His grave had two bouquets on it. One from his younger sister and one from his parents. In the past, his fiancée had put flowers there too, but she was long married and had two children. Emma regarded me closely, but my expression was a cold mask. If she hoped to find a crack in it, then her chances were the best at Domenico’s grave.