The first few weeks in Italy passed in a blur. I really threw myself into every battle and job Alvize had for me, no matter how risky. Killing became an all-consuming job, one that filled me with excitement and fulfillment, but a nagging voice remained at the back of my head. A voice that called for Aurora’s closeness, for my family, even Battista.
Did I feel ready to return? No.
I had avoided all calls from my family, even Greta in the weeks since Dad had left. I needed this time to figure things out, to see if I could be someone worthy of Aurora and Battista.
Today, I decided to answer Greta’s call. She could be stubborn if she wanted to be, and she wouldn’t give up until I finally talked to her.
“Hey, Greta,” I said.
“Nevio.” The relief in her voice was unmistakable. “I’d given up hope you’d ever answer my calls.”
I didn’t say anything because I didn’t have a reason for avoiding her except fucking cowardice. Her disappointment always hit me hard. I had a feeling she knew about Battista by now, which made me even less eager to talk to her.
“I miss talking to you,” she said softly.
“You ran away first.”
“I didn’t run away. If anything, I ran toward Amo. What did you run from?”
“Myself,” I said with a dark chuckle.
“That’s impossible.”
“Maybe. But I ran from the part of me I was supposed to be.”
“Hmm,” Greta murmured. “You should be with our family.”
“You too.”
She sighed. “I love our family, but now Amo is my family too. And you have your own small family now too.”
“Battista?” I asked warily.
“Him and Aurora if you figure out a way to make her forgive you.”
“Any tips? Not that I’m returning anytime soon. I need more time here to get my shit together.”
“I know how it feels to succumb to darkness, but I also know it feels better to choose the light.”
“Comparing us doesn’t work, Greta. But I want to run toward the light, believe me.” Aurora was my light at the end of the tunnel, the one I was trying to run toward. If I didn’t make the walls collapse around me before.
“Maybe you don’t believe it, but I know you can be a good father. What distinguishes you from men like Luca, Dad, and Nino is simply that you haven’t made the choice to be a good father yet.”
Was I crazier than any of those three? Considering what Luca had done to the bikers, how Dad had slaughtered his enemies, and what Nino had done to Kiara’s abuser, it seemed unlikely.
“Have you talked to Aurora in the last few weeks?”
“Once. She seems really close to Battista. I could hear how much she cared about him.”
That was Rory for you, being a better mom than the actual mom and taking over my job as dad too.
“Did you talk about me?”
“We did, but that’s confidential. I don’t want to break her trust.”
I grimaced. “I’ll send her a beautiful present for Christmas.”
“I don’t think she wants presents from you. She wants you to be there for Battista and prove to her that you really care about her.”
“That’s what she said?”
“That’s what any woman would expect from a man.”
Aurora never reacted to the present I sent her. I had a feeling she’d either thrown it away unopened or pushed it to the back of her wardrobe.
Greta was probably right. What Aurora wanted from me couldn’t be paid with a black American Express.
Maybe a fucking idiotic part of me had even hoped she’d give me a call. Instead, Fabiano had. His words repeated in my head ever since.
“Don’t come back if you’re the same crazy, irresponsible motherfucker that you are now. Aurora doesn’t need you to ruin her life more than you already have. We all don’t need you to stir up shit like you used to do. The man you’re now is not worthy of becoming Capo of the Camorra, so unless you become a worthier man, which I fucking doubt, then stay there and don’t come back to Vegas. Your father fought the same, maybe even worse demons than you, but he fucking stepped up to the task of raising his brothers, to claiming his territory, and even becoming a better father than anyone could ever hope for. He’s Capo of the Camorra. You’re not, and I don’t see that changing. If you have a shred of decency, you’ll let her go.”
His words had hit their mark. He’d voiced some of my own thoughts of the last few months.
But letting Aurora go was simply not an option. Even from Italy, Alessio and Massimo kept me updated on her life despite their initial protests.
Aurora
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected when Nevio had left. That he’d be back by Christmas? But two months after he’d run off to Italy, he was still there. I made sure not to pay attention when Alessio and Massimo discussed what he was up to. I didn’t want to hear about possible female conquests or how he had the time of his life killing for the Camorra there.
On Christmas morning, I glared at the present that Massimo was holding out to me. He’d been clever enough to hand it over to me before my family and I met with the Falcones for our traditional gift exchange and breakfast. Though handing over wasn’t the right term as I refused to take the small parcel wrapped in expensive-looking blue gift wrap.
“It’s for you.” Massimo held it closer to me. Battista, who I was holding on my hip, made a move to snatch it up. He’d turned a year old a few weeks ago. I’d picked a date for him for lack of knowing his real birthday. Nevio had even sent him a present too. I bet Serafina had told him what to get, and Battista had been excited about the Ferrari ride-on car. But I definitely didn’t want a present from Nevio.
“I don’t want it,” I said. I could hear Mom and Dad talking upstairs, and it sounded as if they were about to come down. If Dad saw the present, his mood would go downhill. Just the mentioning of Nevio usually brought out his anger. “Shouldn’t he have bought something for his son?”
“That’s under the Christmas tree in the common room like all the other presents, but I thought it prudent to hide Nevio’s present for you from our families as it might cause some aggression.”
I snorted, which made Battista’s eyes light up, and he giggled.
Why did Nevio even think I wanted a gift from him? It only made me furious.
I was trying so hard not to think about him. A task which was made almost impossible by the small boy who resembled him more and more every day.
“I’m not taking it back,” Massimo said simply. “I can leave it here on the patio or I can give it to you.”
I ripped it from his hand. “All right. But I won’t look at it.”
“Can you give this to Carlotta? I can’t visit her in the hospital.” He held out another parcel to me.
“Sure,” I said in a less hostile tone. “She’ll be very happy about it.”
Carlotta had been struggling with her health in the past few days, and it had gotten so bad that she’d be spending Christmas in the hospital to keep a close eye on her oxygen saturation. Dad and Mom entered the kitchen at that moment.
“I hope that’s not a gift from Nevio,” Dad growled.
I gave him an annoyed look. “It’s from Massimo for Carlotta.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” Mom said with a smile at Massimo, who looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else.
Dad’s anger disappeared. Of course, he then spotted the other present. “And what about that one?”
“That’s from Nevio, but I won’t open it if that makes you happy.”
“Happy? No. I’d be happy if he stopped bothering you.” Dad stalked toward Massimo. “You shouldn’t support his bullshit. You should know better.”
Massimo cocked an eyebrow. “I’m doing a friend a favor. It’s not my place to judge the morality of it. And neither do I care, if I’m being honest.” He glanced at his watch. “Gift exchange starts in five minutes. The kids won’t be happy if we’re late.” He turned around and moved across the garden toward the Falcone mansion.
“Do you want me to throw it away?” Dad asked, picking up Nevio’s present. “I could burn it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I can handle it myself. Just leave it here.”
“Come on, Fabiano. Let’s not be late,” Mom said. She put her hand on his arm, and he finally put the present down. “It’s Christmas.”
Together, we moved toward the Falcone mansion. Mom and Dad chatted quietly and soon Dad’s face became less angry. Gemma opened the glass door to the common area for us. She wore an incredibly ugly Christmas sweater over workout tights. Huge red pom-poms were positioned right over her breasts and jiggled when she moved. Seeing my expression, she rolled her eyes. “Savio picked it for me. The girls wanted to make ugly sweaters a tradition for Christmas.” Her smile became wicked. “But I found a good sweater for him too.”
I glanced at Savio who watched as his daughters searched the presents for their name tags. His sweater showed the back of Santa Claus, who was pulling his pants down and flashing his very pale ass at everyone. “Good one,” I said. Gemma made faces at Battista which made him shake with laughter.
“Thinking of having another one?” Dad asked Gemma as we entered the house.
“I don’t think I want to give birth a third time,” she said with a grimace.
Kiara came toward me, beaming. She held out her arms and I handed her Battista. She had taken care of Battista often when I couldn’t, and Serafina was busy with Giulio. Now that Battista was being pampered by Kiara, I went over to Amo and Greta who were in conversation with Serafina.
Greta gave me a warm smile. I wasn’t sure when she’d last talked to Nevio and was half tempted to ask, but decided against it for my sanity. “He looks like Nevio,” she said with a nod toward Battista, whom Kiara was showing the red ornaments at the tree. Caterina and Luna soon joined her to entertain him too.
I tried to keep my face neutral. Christmas wasn’t the time to badmouth someone, and right now, I only had bad things to say about him.
“He should be here with us on Christmas,” Serafina said heavily. “He shouldn’t be spending that day alone.”
I wondered if he was alone. Maybe he’d found a girl to bang or was busy torturing a poor soul.
“Time to open the presents!” Kiara announced. Giulio and Roman, who had played chess with Nino, dashed toward the tree. Davide rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as if he was above such childish displays when he too had been like that a year or two before.
Caterina, Luna, Battista, Roman, and Giulio were the youngest Falcones, and all of them still believed in Santa Claus, though at almost nine, Giulio had started asking tough questions.
Serafina went over to Kiara, and they helped Battista unwrap his presents together.
“I think we should make ugly sweaters a Falcone Christmas tradition,” Savio said loudly, motioning at his sweater.
“Over my dead body,” Alessio said. He and Massimo lounged on the couch.
Savio shrugged. “That can be arranged.”
“It’s Christmas. No violent thoughts welcome,” Serafina said.
“Then you need to kick out your husband. I doubted he’s ever not felt violent in my presence,” Amo said.
Remo didn’t contradict him, only flashed a dark smile. Greta huffed.
Soon, we all settled around the dining table which was loaded with breakfast casseroles, charcuterie, cheese platters, panettone, and many more delicacies.
I caught Greta’s eyes across the table. In hers, I could see a hint of sadness. Nevio should have been here. Part of me was relieved he wasn’t.
