Page 43 of The Italian Obsession

Her eyes hold mine. “I’m just saying… be careful, that’s all.” She grabs my hand over the table. “I don’t want you to get all attached to and then hurt by a guy on the other side of the world who you think you know. Not all men are like your exboyfriends, Liv. This Enrico could be a huge player. Probably is if he looks like that.”

“I know.” I sigh, saddened by her reality check.

“Look.” She shrugs with a smile. “Actions speak louder than words, and I could be completely wrong. Maybe he’s great and this could work out.”

“I’m not getting excited. I know what you’re saying is right. I’m going back to Rome to spend the weekend with him before I fly home, so I’ll see what happens then.”

She smiles broadly. “Good, take it slow. There’s no rush.”

“I am.”

“Has he called you today?”

“He’s working.” I rearrange my napkin on my lap. “I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

I sip my wine as I try to act casual. Why hasn’t he called me back? An annoying little alarm bell goes off in the back of my brain. I was sure he would have called me back by now.

“So, what are we going to do tomorrow?” she asks.

I smile up at her. “Everything.”

ENRICO

The red embers glow in the dark and a sporadic crack signifies the wood’s demise. I stare at the flames of the fire with my two brothers beside me.

Shocked, that’s what we are.

We’re heartbroken that our father and grandfather have left us. We’re horrified at what we’ve found out about our family history. We don’t even know who we are anymore.

“Everything is a lie.” Matteo sighs sadly as he tips his head back and drains his beer.

“You must have known.” Andrea frowns as his eyes come to me accusingly. “How could you have not known? You’re a fucking cop, for Christ’s sake.”

“I heard whispers, but when I asked, I was told it was from jealousy—that people always think the worst of successful people. That all money must be bad, and the businesses were… are now all legitimate, except for a few gambling houses.”

We fall silent again, lost in our own thoughts.

I drag my hand down my face. I’m exhausted—too tired to think, and too tired to focus on anything other than how fucked up this all is.

Francesca, our sister, walks in and sits beside me. She’s beautiful, with long dark hair and porcelain skin. She’s much fairer than her brothers but with the same brown eyes.

I put my arm around her and pull her close. “You okay, baby?”

“Not really.” Her tear-filled gaze falls to the fire.

I hold her close. “Where’s Mamma?”

“Inside.” Her eyes find mine. “Are we going to be all right, Rico… without Dad?”

My heart sinks and I hold her closer. “Of course, angel. I’ll make sure of it. You’re safe, I’ll look after us now. I’m here. Lean on me.”

She holds me as she cries, and I close my eyes to my own pain.

The four of us, the Ferrara children, sit around the fire, and we weep.

________

I sit at the table wearing my black suit. I’m waiting for my mother to get ready for her husband’s funeral.