Page 98 of Tormented Diamonds
In another life, Anton and my mother could’ve been happy. I’d like to believe we could all see each other again someday, but I know the place Anton and I are headed is nowhere near her. So, we’ll have to settle for memories and concrete.
“Anton says you always told him that ‘we don’t get to choose our beginnings or endings, only whathappens in between.’ I didn’t understand that until ‘what happens in between’ became worth fighting for. I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for saving my life that day. I won’t waste another minute of it.”
The wind picks up, and I’m hit with the scent of fruit, powder, and sunshine. Quickly tucking the note in my pocket, I quirk my lips. “How long have you been standing there?”
I hear light footsteps, then Becca appears beside me, her chin tipped up. “Long enough.”
She looks like a scholar trapped in a vixen’s skin. Her long blonde hair is pulled back in that low, no-nonsense ponytail I remember, and her new wire-frame glasses sit perfectly on her delicate nose. But that’s where the prim psychiatrist ends. From her red stilettos to her tight, low-cut dress, to her painted red lips, the rest of her is pure, will-testing mafia queen.
My fire queen.
“Are you following your husband,cara mia?”
She shrugs. “What? You’re the only one who can track people?”
I stare at her, but the corners of my mouth betray me and stretch into a smile.
Becca mirrors me, her pout tipping into the same unprompted grin. “Actually, I came to put flowers on Leo’s grave, and I saw your car.” She sobers, her gaze shifting toward the tombstone. “How long has it been since you’ve visited her?”
“Twenty-two years.”
“Sounds familiar.” She’s quiet for a moment, then lets out a dramatic exhale. “Well…?”
“Well, what?”
“This is my first time meeting my mother-in-law,” she says, gesturing toward my mother’s grave. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
It’s a ridiculous request.
Pointless and awkward.
And something I’ve waited two decades to do.
I slip my arm around her waist and pull her to me, my smile widening. “Ma, I’d like you to meet my wife, Rebecca.” Becca raises an eyebrow at my use of her full name but doesn’t say anything. “Becca, this is my mother, Rosalia Marchesi.”
Becca’s smile brightens. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Marchesi. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. I’m sorry we never got the chance to know each other, but I promise I love your son more than anything in the world.” Her gaze shifts back to me, my chest tightening at the devotion I see in it. “And nothing will ever change that. He’s my hero-laced devil.”
“I told you a long time ago I’m no one’s hero.”
“Tough shit. I’ve bestowed the title, and you’re stuck with it.”
I roll my eyes and glance down at my mother’s grave. “Youhadto pick Genesis.”
Becca tilts her head. “Huh?”
“Nothing.” I’m not being secretive or evasive. I just need some time alone with this … to process and come to terms with this new me … this newus. I’ll tell her about my mother’s note someday, just not today. “Just my mother playing matchmaker from the great beyond.”
“You think she would’ve approved of us?”
“More than you know. My mother believed love wasn’t something you fell into. It was a stain on your soul you couldn’t outrun.”
Becca stares down at her left hand, her eyebrows drawing together as she spins her wedding ring with the pad of her thumb. “L'amore è una macchia indelebile sull'anima.” Love is an irreversible stain on the soul.” She peers up at me. “This is her ring, isn’t it?”
I nod. “My father had it engraved as awarning. I guess I gave it to you as one, too.”
She’s silent for a moment, then cocks her chin and looks back up at me, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip like she did in Providence when she was about to twist something simple into something insanely abstract. “It depends on your interpretation. I think it’s an accurate reminder. Loveisan irreversible stain on the soul. But when you’ve lived without color for so long, sometimes a stain is the only thing that keeps it from fading away. You changed red for me, Gianni. It used to be the color of pain, hate, and suffering, the tint of all my nightmares.”
Damn. Will this woman ever fail to surprise me? I hope not.
