Page 128 of Mine Again
“Of course I did,” he says. “But it wasn’t worth the risk. If they suspected anything, they’d have questioned you… interrogated you.”
A shiver runs through me. We all know what Mafia interrogations really mean.
“I wanted you to be able to say you knew nothing. To tell the truth. I didn’t want you to have to lie, because they would have seen through it.”
He leans in closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Isa, staying out of your reach… it was the only way I could protect you.”
His words punch the air out of my lungs, and tears sting my eyes. I try to hold them in, blink them back, but the next second, they’re rolling freely down my cheeks.
He reaches out, wiping them away carefully, his fingers tremblingever so slightly.
His brow furrows, eyes locked on mine like he’s trying to say something he can’t. Like he’d undo the past if he could.
I stare at him, heart pounding. His touch is so tender, so familiar, it hurts.
But I don’t want his comfort. Not now.
As reasonable as his excuses sound, I didn’t want reason.
I wantedusto defy it all.
The rules. The laws. The fear.
I jerk to my feet, needing distance, needing to sever the pull between us.
“Farfalla,”he says, not happy I pulled away. “I suffered too. Every damn day. Being apart from you… it was torture. The only thing that kept me breathing was watching you through the camera. Knowing you were still there.”
The camera in my room…
How many times did I stare into it, silently begging him to be on the other side?
Hearing he actually was soothes something raw in me. And it pisses me off even more.
Because the comfort was only his.
“How nice for you to watch me from a distance,” I spit. “Ididn’t have that.”
My hand flies to the back of my neck, rubbing the tension coiled tight there. I flinch when my fingers brush a tender spot near my hairline. It’s sore, but I push past it. I’m too fired up to care right now.
My voice trembles. “I didn’t get to see you. I grieved you as if you were dead.”
He flinches, like the words cut straight through him.
“No,” he says quietly. “You didn’t have that comfort. ButIwaswith you. Every. Fucking. Day. Whether you knew it or not.”
I slowly set the thermos down, suddenly aware of how tightly I’ve been clutching it. My hands are shaking.
“So you kept your distance to keep me safe,” I say coldly. “But youstill sent me chocolates on my eighteenth birthday.”
I swallow hard. “The day that was supposed to be our wedding day.”
His eyes hold mine, but he doesn’t speak.
“And instead,” I go on, the words catching in my throat, “I had to get dolled up and was paraded around like some show pony. A prized mare trotted out on my father’s arm for all the eligiblela famigliabachelors to inspect.”
My voice breaks.
