Page 67 of Burdens
Cousin?I didn’t bother correcting him and looked over at his wife with a courteous smile, giving her a small nod. “It’s nice to meet you, Daniela.”
“Same to you too,” she replied, reaching for her husband’s hand behind her and letting her hand rest over his. The small gesture sent a pang straight into my chest, wishing I could reach for Amalia that effortlessly. “Nassim told me you knew Reda.”An appreciative look washed over her features at the mention of my uncle’s name.
“Yeah, I did a long time ago,” I responded, my voice growing tight.
“He was a good man,” Daniela added, glancing up at her husband. Nassim placed a kiss on top of her head.
“He was,” I managed to get out despite the feeling of my throat swelling up from him being gone.
Amalia’s body grew closer to mine as if she was subconsciously trying to comfort me with her proximity, but I must have imagined it because the feel of her body against mine disappeared in the same instant.
“All right, let’s get to work,” Amalia said, breaking the growing silence.
Nassim gave a nod of agreement and led us farther back to a small table with leather poufs surrounding it. An older man, the merchant I presume, was sat there, cross-legged, amidst a sea of his products, working on them.
Nassim slipped a stack of bills in his hand and without another word, the man swiftly got up and left his store.
Without wasting any other time, we all settled around the table and got started.
The sun was setting by the time we were heading back to the safe house.
We’d spent the last few hours going over the layout of my father’s property while I added details about the surrounding grounds we could use to our advantage.
I hadn’t visited the place in a little over thirty years, but based on both what little I’d seen when we left the premises yesterdayand Amalia’s recollections of the house, I knew my father hadn’t changed much except for expanding the garage to host more cars and make his bedroom bigger at the request of his new wife.
I’d learned a few years ago that while he’d still been married to my mother, he’d had a whole other illegitimate family that we’d known nothing about.
Matheo had been born a few years after me, and when my mother and I had left, he’d moved them in like we’d never been there in the first place.
Amalia’s grip tightened around my middle as I turned the corner street that led to where we were staying. We’d abandoned her car behind to avoid being traceable and instead used Nassim’s motorcycle to get back home while his men took care of getting rid of the car we’d left behind.
Daniela had driven a separate motorcycle on their way to the market this morning, so they’d used that one to get back to their place where some of Nassim’s men were staying with them.
Amalia had initially refused to climb behind me, saying she’d rather walk, but eventually, she’d relented, knowing there were no other options.
The second her arms had wrapped around my waist, the oxygen in my lungs had stammered and for the rest of the ride, all I could focus on was memorizing the feeling of her against me because it might be the last time I’d have her this close no matter how hard I tried to win her back.
I’d never relent from trying, but in the very far back of my mind, there were whispers of there being a chance she wouldn’t take me back, but I didn’t want to think about the possibility.
I turned the corner of the alley that housed the place we were staying at and parked the motorbike in front of the building. I expected her to jump off the moment my feet landed on the pavement, but neither of us moved.
I closed my eyes and felt her chest rise up and down against my back. One of my hands traveled to rest against her thigh and I heard her breath hitch behind me at the gesture.
But the sound of a kid screaming as they ran out of the house in front of us had us breaking apart.
With the moment broken, she swung her leg over the seat and headed for the front door without sparing me another look.
With a sigh, I turned off the ignition and went to stand behind her as she unlocked the front door. She pushed it open and I braced my hands over the frame, watching her retreat inside.
I was trying to tell myself that I needed to leave her alone, to give her some time to adjust, but I was failing at it.
I was tired of having her walk away from me. Tired of her not talking to me. I was losing my fucking mind over the fact—albeit I’d deserved it.
“Amalia,” I called out, stepping under the mantle and into the house and closing the door behind me. To no one’s surprise, she didn’t give me her attention.
“Amalia,” I said louder this time, walking toward the living room to find her heading for the kitchen.
She peered at me over her shoulder, her hand on the refrigerator’s door handle. “What is it?” she asked, irritation flashing in her eyes. “What do you want?”
