Page 38 of Second Chance

Tony feels, ridiculously, as if he’s being protected from something he doesn’t understand. “It’s okay. I didn’t know her, but you both did. I can be supportive.”

Under the table, Daniel rests a hand on Tony’s leg.

Tony presses into the touch, trying to communicate that a memorial won’t be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. He can handle a memorial. It might actually be a relief, to be there with Daniel and Gianna, to keep an eye on them. To make sure whoever did it isn’t getting close to them, making good on their threat.

Tony never told his family about that afternoon, he realizes. They know Daniel got shot. They know who did it. They don’t know about the part where Tony nearly got killed. He never thought it was worth mentioning until right this moment. Stacy never cared about him as a person; he just happened to be in her way. Now that Daniel has pointed out why it was so important that Tony was losing his shit because of it, Tony can’t understand why he ever thought it wasn’t.

For a moment, he considers reaching for Daniel’s hand resting on the tabletop, right where everyone can see it, and telling him he’d rather they stick together all the time. It’s what he’d do if they were at home, turn it into a romantic gestureinstead of an admission he feels most safe when they’re together, when he can keep Daniel in his line of sight.

But he’s never held Daniel’s hand in front of his parents. He’s never let himself need comfort so obviously in front of Gianna.

It’ll keep. Daniel will let him fall apart when it’s only the two of them, when Tony can find the words he needs to say, and that will need to be enough.

Chapter Six

The science building is an easy thirty years newer than every other building at Lobell Tony has been in. The sleek glass exterior and long, twisted shape, not conceived of until the 2000s, make it stand out on an otherwise cozy and overgrown campus. It’s very impressive, even if it lacks the antiquated charm of Daniel’s office.

Tony tugs at the top button of his black dress shirt, undoing it. The relentlessly muggy weather makes it too hot for long sleeves. He doesn’t own any short-sleeved button-ups, though; they look too much like something his dad would wear.

In front of him, Lia gurgles in her stroller, batting at the pacifier dangling from the top of it. She’s gotten really good at understanding cause and effect, and she follows the motion as the toy sways after she hits it.

After the noise and bustle inside got to be too much for her, Tony took her outside by the back entrance, away from the reception but still in the protective shade of the building. It does absolutely nothing to help with the humidity. The only thing worse than upstate New York this time of year is the city, where the air not only feels like soup, it smells of garbage.

Tony is maybe a little biased. He hates going to memorials for people he didn’t know. Which isn’t something he has to do often. Itisweird it’s happened twice in a year. Attending this one has been less painful than Mario’s, at least. That was a trial to sit through, from Gianna crying quietly next to him to Colette presenting the story of Mario’s life as if his death was a horrific tragedy. Retrospectively, Tony understands it was, but at the time, he was filled with so much rage toward Mario it was hard not to cheer when the students started asking questions about the rumors going around that he behaved inappropriately toward his students.

On the whole, this one has been much more bearable, not least because he’s spent most of it outside with Lia.

At least Tony managed to snag a champagne flute full of orange juice and a cup of olives from the servers setting out refreshments for after the speeches. He doesn’t remember Mario’s memorial being catered. On the other hand, if memory serves, that event was organized by his killer. It stands to reason she would cheap out on the amenities.

Then again, Tony doesn’t know who organized this shindig. It could easily be the killer, and it could easily be a ruse to get their next victim to the scene of the first crime. Daniel might be ignoring the letter threatening him, but Tony can’t forget about it.

When the noise level inside begins to rise, the speeches now replaced by the low hum of conversation, Lia starts to complain. Tony pushes her stroller back and forth slowly, trying to get her to relax.

“C’mon, little girl,” he mutters to her. “It’s only boring grown-up talk.”

She gurgles a little, squirming in place, one chubby little arm stretched, her tiny fingers spreading apart.

“You’re still so small.” It’s embarrassing how, despite his best intentions, Tony always starts baby-talking to her. “How are you so small, huh?”

She gurgles at him again, which is close enough to an answer for an eight-month-old.

“Oh, hey, man,” a voice says behind Tony.

Lia stills.

Tony flinches at being caught out in his sentimentality and turns around.

“Sean, right?” Tony plasters his customer service smile onto his face. “How’s that Camry doing?”

“Huh?” Sean frowns briefly. “Oh, the car. Yeah, it’s fine, good as new.”

“Great.”

Sean pulls out a pack of loose tobacco and cigarette papers and starts rolling. “You want?” he asks after he finishes making his own cigarette and sees Tony staring at him.

“No thanks.” What Tony wants is to take Lia and go for a long walk away from the secondhand smoke. Unfortunately, he promised Gianna he’d stay close. Also, this guy is her friend, and he’s probably going through some shit right now. Tony makes it a rule not to be rude to people whether or not they deserve it. Sean doesn’t deserve it.

“Yeah.” Sean lights up, takes a drag, and exhales a long breath of smoke. “Probably better. I’m not actually a smoker, y’know. Just, like, at parties and stuff.”

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