Page 68 of His Captive
“Is it?” I chuckle. “Are there rules you have to follow on your last day?”
“No,” he admits. “I suppose there aren’t.”
“Then see if he has that year,” I suggest with some insistence in my voice. “Come on, if that’s something you wanted to do, let’s do it.”
“Alright,” Massimo relents. “Let me grab my phone.”
Poison, as Massimo would say. Delicious poison. Wine might be what we need to relax some. I’m not sure it’s genuinely possible, but it’ll be another distraction.
Minute by minute.
Hour by hour.
I have to findsomeway to get through today.
CHAPTER 29
Massimo
Lea’s trying to hide her pain.
Trying to do everything she can to avoid dwelling on it.
I understand it because I’m doing the exact same thing. The war I’m saving my family from is raging inside of me. I want to tear the world apart, if it means I get one more minute with Lea. But the price is simply too high. Too much blood will be shed. Too many lives will be lost.
“Well, we’re in luck,” I say, walking out of the bedroom and putting my phone in my pocket. “Theo has a bottle and he’s sending it up.”
“Good,” Lea says, forcing a smile that doesn’t look nearly as good as the natural one I’m practically obsessed with. “Then what’s next? We’ve covered tattoos and wine. What about food? Even death row inmates get to choose a last meal.”
“There are plenty of options here on the island,” I say, sitting down beside her. “It’s hard to choose.”
“I think I’d go with a big greasy cheeseburger and enough fries to make me question my life choices,” Lea says, her smile showing a hint of genuineness. “Maybe even a slice of apple pie, after I’m stuffed.”
“That does sound delicious,” I admit. “But I’d probably go with something from Bellissima’s. Maybe one of the dishes my grandmother used to make when I spent my summers in Italy.”
“Do you want to have dinner there tonight?” Lea asks.
“No,” I answer immediately. “I don’t want to be around other people today. Just you.”
“Then we can have it sent up, just like the wine,” she suggests.
“We’ll figure that out later.” I wave a hand. “We just had breakfast.”
The reality is that I don’t care about any of it. Not even the wine. I can leave this world happy, as long as I get to spend my last day with Lea.
Lea offers some other suggestions, but it’s meaningless conversation. Words for the sake of keeping the discussion going so silence doesn’t fill the air. Silence seems to be difficult for us both.
We’re finally interrupted by a knock at the door.
“That must be the wine,” I say, standing up and adjusting my shirt.
I give a generous tip to the young man who is delivering it. Might as well get rid of the cash in my pocket like I got rid of what I had sitting in the bank. The rest of it—my family can figure that out.
“Is there anything special about this wine other than it being made the year you were born?” Lea asks while I remove the cork and pour two glasses.
“There were a lot of storms that year,” I reply, inhaling the aroma as I walk over and give Lea her glass. I sit down beside her and motion for her to try it. “The grapes got riper than normal, because of all the rain, and that always makes the flavor sweeter than the years when irrigation is necessary.”
“Wow, it seems like everything impacts the flavor.” Lea sniffs the wine, then sips it. “It tastes similar to what we had on the boat.”
